Bad Boy, Dusty

This morning, I'm drinking my coffee through a straw!


I live in a house with two Alpha males. Crawfish Man and the Duster. As I've mentioned, Dusty has a little testosterone problem, too much of it. At six months, he's like a spoiled toddler when he doesn't get his way. Though the toddlers probably don't bite. We've had three female Pomeranians before Dusty, Brandy, Sunshine and Spider. They all came to us at just under a year. That means... that they are very hard to put up with until they are raised. I knew that but it still doesn't make it easy.

I've been working with treats, a leash, reverse psychology. But if he has a toy he doesn't want to give up or if it's time to do something he doesn't want to do, he will try to bite you to get his point across. Some of it is bluster, but he does have a problem. And he's marking his territory everywhere. This morning I turned my back and then felt a warm stream down my leg. That's not the first time. He's very intelligent and learns quickly but much of the fault lies in my not knowing how to train him out of these bad habits. I'd like to take him to an obedience class but they are 75 miles away.

Last week, we went to the vet to have his heartworm treatment, a new kind given every six months. (If you aren't giving your dog heartworm meds, you're signing his death warrant, especially in Louisiana.) I discussed neutering with the vet who said it might calm him down a little. After all, even though he has papers, I don't think I'd want to risk passing this bad temper on. Though they say it doesn't always. And you can't wake him up from a sound sleep, he comes out of it like he's in another world, barking and snapping.

Well, CFM said, we're not having him neutered. He'll calm down. I got the impression it was a man thing. You're not cutting the Dustyworks! I said, we're not giving him a lobotomy!

I've struggled with this because he is beautiful and smart and has a lot of personality and loves people but I think I've finally had enough. I have to pick him up from behind sometimes when he doesn't want to go out and last night he bit me - in the face. Tore my lip, left teeth marks on my skin above the lip. I love him and don't want to have to do something tragic in the future so we may have to neuter him. I know, I need to try the training first. Maybe two days of them teaching me what to do would help. I could afford that.

So, I'm standing there trying to piece the pieces of my lip back together, sorry, no pictures for a while, and CFM says, "Oh, you'll be okay. I've had mine split many times. You won't look like a monster or anything." He was a boxer and football player so I guess he knows. But his standards are a little different than mine.

It's all over but the crying

Literally. It hasn't been a great year but it's drawing to a close. The crawfish were
'off-cycle' apparently. More about that on my Everything you never wanted to know about crawfish blog on Tuesday (if we don't get severe weather) maybe Wednesday.

But CFM usually wants to quit the week before Memorial weekend. This year, because the crawfish are just now starting to get bigger and he's still feeling pretty good, he's thinking about going one more weekend. Depends on when we run out of freon. Yep, we have a big refrigerated trailer that runs on EXPENSIVE freon and we're having to fill it every five days to keep the crawfish cool. It won't be cost efficient to buy another $350 worth of it until we find the leaks and fix them.

We used to have good weekends almost all the way through April and May but this year even Mother's Day was way down. This area has always had high unemployment but when the oil field slowed down when the price of oil went down, it put a LOT of people out of work again. That and the economy and the excessive competition, the late season start, all contributed. It's a real test to counteract the differing challenges from year to year. As with the rest of LIFE, it's always something.

Spring Cleaning

I'm not going to show you what my office and storage closet looked like before my friend came to help me organize. It took a hard two and a half days to get things straight and behind me there are still bins to go through and a desk to clear but I'm happy with the results.

I seem to be able to come up with a plan but can't remember the plan &;-)). Ever since the Winter, I've wanted to get my house cleaned out, closets, cabinets, shelves stream-lined. Simplify. I know that's a Spring fever kinda deal, but it's been longer for us. It seems that after Christmas the tasks of gearing up for crawfish season take over and then before you know it, it's Summer and too hot to live.

I've still got painting and reorganizing in the bedroom, porch, kitchen, and living room to do but I have to get back to my synopsis on RC. AND of course I have to travel South tomorrow for crawfish. I can't wait til crawfish season is over. My Hero (CFM) WASN'T last weekend. I looked and him and said, "Come closer, dear, so I can wrap my fingers around your neck," just before I stomped off toward home. You know how they are. They want your opinion, want you around but won't take suggestions and won't accept any help. Sheesh.

When I go South tomorrow I'll pass this beautiful plantation style home. Having been exposed to many wonderful examples in nearby Natchez, Mississippi, I was quite impressed with this gorgeous home.

Easter in the Crawfish Business

Easter in the crawfish business is about suppliers waiting til the last minute to drop a price increase on you, not enough crawfish to go around cuz every one decides that crawfish is a great way to feed a lot of people on Easter weekend. It's about last minute issues caused by the 'Easter' snap - low harvest, high costs, short supply, lots of long hours on the road and at the shack, hauling, cleaning, toting, boiling crawfish. The stress of reinvesting everything you've made so far into one of the biggest crawfish weekends of the season. It's a tossup whether it beats Mother's Day or Memorial weekend.

Can you believe it? Crawfish for Mother's Day! Because Dad cooks, I'm thinkin'. And don't forget Valentine's. Um, is this about the givee, or the giver?

Anyway, the other day I mentioned that the crawfish harvest is way down. One supplier saying that he has plenty of crawfish but they aren't feeding which means they don't go into the net. Today at a restaurant in crawfish country (South Louisiana) someone speculated that it's the ECONOMY!!!

How interesting. What if our global collective consciousness was so negative that the vibes transmitted to the crustacean world and they are too depressed to eat! Come on, people, let's think positive.

Happy Easter!

Toxic environment?

FIGHTING DESTINY

Long day yesterday. I got lucky 'cause CFM needed help at the crawfish trailer and most of the mail carriers had from 17 to 72 certified letters. Each one has to be written up separately, sorted by order of the route, delivered and scanned or attempted delivered and scanned, in addition to all the regular mail and packages. It would have taken me forever! But I only had three. Whew! Of course CFM was too busy to answer his cell so the phone was ringing while I was trying to concentrate on the route. Ended up having to go back and rerun some of the route to deliver 5 packages I missed. But I was able to get done earlier than everyone else and get to the CF shack to help.



Not a great day sales wise and it should have been. Prices are too high yet, people want big crawfish(and we're lucky to get ANY) and many are out of work especially in the oilfield.

I found out later in the day from one of our local suppliers that most of the local crawfish growers are getting desperate. Some of them are getting barely enough crawfish to reseed their ponds much less to sell. And this is prime selling season. CFsupplier said he doesn't know what is going on. He really thought it was mostly because the babies were drowned when water came up after hurricanes. But CFM's thinking that possibly the hurricanes going back to 2005 pulled in toxic whatevers from the south and dropped them on the waters and land to the north. This map shows flooding from Gustav. It makes sense. I'm wondering if any environmentalists have looked into it.

Our garden since the hurricanes has not produced anything - not one tomato, not one squash. The greens barely broke through the ground. No one has caught any significant number of fish in the bayou in the last three years. Crawfish season was down in the south immediately after, many put it down to salt water invading the fresh. Surely that was part of it but there may be something much bigger going on.

This is particularly scary since many people are trying to supplement their food budget by growing their own gardens. And very few in Louisiana and Mississippi are having success. I'll have to see what I can find out.

Morning update: Man, CFM can't catch a break! It's Easter week, the biggest week of crawfish season and we have a freeze coming Tuesday morning. This is bound to affect the catch for the days following. Our supplier had said that he didn't think he'd have a problem with supplying what we asked for this year. Normally, there aren't enough to go around on Easter. But of course, purchases are way down too. Now, we'll have to see. At the very least it may throw the little buggers into a molt which means well, who knows. Lots of question marks this year!

Flying toward D.C.

As our plane left the tarmac one month ago today, and headed into the heavy clouds like a rocket, I could see container ships lined up, bumper to bumper rush hour traffic on the Mississippi. Much as I like to fly, I'm always uncomfortable on takeoffs into storm clouds until we break through to clearer sky.

Then the visual landscape changes into stark whites, darker grey shadows and muted pinks and blues of what looks like that other arctic landscape. If you didn't know you were in the sky 30000 feet above the earth, you'd think you could land, just over there on that flat stretch, or on that river running between those mountains of snow. I love the ever-changing panorama on display at that altitude and kick myself for not having my camera in my purse.



Not to self: Never try to save $100 again if it means having CFM deliver me to the airport in a CITY. He's okay on interstates on long stretches or around our rural community but when you get on a highway with more than one lane, 4 GET IT. I thought we were both going to have heart attacks before I could get me to the airport.

He jerks the steering wheel instead of turning it, passes cars and pulls in so close a couple times I thought we were going to hit them. He totally panics to the point of wrecking in an otherwise safe situation.

But he's nearly home and I'm 35000 feet up on my way to Orlando to change planes so we're both happy. Live and Learn.

Morning Romp

I got up a little later this morning, 6:30, and surprisingly, Dusty was being quiet. But as soon as I tiptoed out of the bedroom the sound of the fan tipped him off to my presence. He began yipping and jumping against the side of the playpen in his usual unrestrained fervor.

I called to him soothingly, "Is Momma's baby awake. Come here, Sweetie." And as usual for the first full minute of momma-loving, he's sweet and gives good puppy kisses. Then things turn to non-momma-loving activities. Peeing, Eating, Playing and Biting.

But this morning, he wasn't too unruly so I decided to get down to his level - quite a task for an adult to get to eye-and-cuddle level with a six inch tall dog - and slip his collar on.

Let me digress a second. As you may know, Dusty has been showing extreme aggression when we try to slip a collar over his head. Yesterday - I hesitate to mention this but here goes - CFM was babysitting and took the little boy outside. Tiger, the maniacal cat has decided she likes playing with Dusty, or else she's trying to get rid of him.

She leads him down the steep hill to the bayou, around the lot, playfully batting and teasing him. She won't even climb a tree unless absolutely necessary and then only to say, Naa Naa Naa NaNa Na, see what I can do!

So CFM followed them around the yard, down the hill, over limbs and never could catch him. He told me on the phone that he'd finally had to resort to extreme measures to catch the boy. He found a lightweight fishing net that he uses to seine bait fish in the bayou and tossed it over Dusty as he made a pass. Sheesh!

He said, "You'd have thought I was killing him. He screamed and whimpered and cried."

Well, duh. No use wasting a lot of words. I simply said, don't do that again.

So this morning I told him I've been getting Dusty used to treats. I used one to get his collar on yesterday and figured he could tempt him with it and get him in the house. After I got his collar on, I tucked a treat into my pocket, took my camera and with just my slippers on, let him outside.

WHAT was I thinking? Tiger was waiting for him. She ignored the food I uncovered for her to lure him into play. It started innocently enough, a romp near the back door, then they Tiger ran down the hill by the boat.Snugging my sweater around me, I hollered at CFM to throw me my sandals. ( I didn't know it was 30 degress outside, the coolness hadn't seeped into the house.)


Then I took off after them. Up and down the hill, over tree branches and dead limbs, through the wet gumbo (louisiana mud) up the hill and over concrete steps and old bricks. Tiger stopped and climbed a tree just out of Dusty's reach and I thought, oh good, I've got him.

The the cat jumped over him and he took off. I was stepping gingerly on the steep hill which was getting steeper and brushier, the closer they got to the Wildlife refuge. Ironic huh? The wild cat taking wild pup into the refuge to lose him.

I was getting desperate to catch him, the leaves and briars were getting thicker, the palmettos slapping my sides as I tried to run after them, yelling toward the house, Hey, and Help, hoping CFM would hear me. Then the maniac twins were entering the refuge about a quarter mile from the house. My sweater got hung on a thorn tree and I began to fear that would not catch my crazy little dog. When the terrain got more difficult for his short legs Tiger sat just out of reach and waited on him to catch up.

I was out of reach and sound of the house, my only hold card - the little treat that was still in my pocket. I pushed branches and palmettos aside and kept telling him to come. Yeah right. Once he actually looked at me and I said, "Dusty, Treat," and held it out.

The cat moved away grabbing his attention. Cat 10, Marley 0.

My hands and feet felt like they were getting frostbitten, my nose was running, and I was getting scared that I wasn't going to catch Dusty in this trashy, rough terrain. I kept thinking, thank God it's not hot, because it's rattlesnake territory.

Finally, the cat perched on the end of a log that Dusty couldn't jump over without extra effort. He turned and I offered the treat. He came over and sniffed, then stole the treat and ran off. Talk about panic! Now I'm screaming at him. Dusty. Dusty, drop it. Uh huh, he understands, drop it, right? But I got lucky.

He always drops it to get a good bite on it so as I came closer, I noticed it was a foot away from him. I reached for it and this time I held it firmly in my hand. "Come here, sweetie," I said aloud, thinking, you crazy little fart, wait til I get my hands on you. As he reached me I grabbed him, holding tight as he wiggled. And started back toward the house, knowing I'd have to be double careful getting there. If I dropped him and he took off again, I wouldn't be catching him this time.

Okay, so why didn't I take his picture as he stood on the other side of the thorn trees, briars, downed limbs and foot deep leaves of the wildlife refuge. The little bugger's eyes gleamed with maniacal intent. The cat sitting nearby, non-chalant, as if this wasn't all her fault.

I was too damn cold.

Never again..

New motherhood

"Mine. It's Mine."


Though I love the little lovable, too smart for his own good or mine puppy, he is playing havoc with my life. Writing-sleeping-housecleaning-interruptus. This boy has taught me the meaning of being a new mother. And at my age. Well, it will be great fodder for a book.

I kept thinking about what Leah told me about being in charge. I'm determined that I will be the boss.

Today, we tried to overcome Dusty's bad behavior to get his collar on him. CFM, big guy that he is, succumbed to Dusty's flailing by letting go and getting bitten. So after he left, Dusty and I had a talk. I managed to get the collar on him but it wasn't tight enough and of course, he ended up in a bind with it locked in his jaws.

Then we had to work through that crisis which seems to have given him some faith in my handling him. Each time he got through the traumatic process he got a treat. Maybe we're building a little respect between us. I hope so. That's one of my goals today. To get a leash on him so I don't have to chase him into the night, down the muddy hill to the bayou, or off into the Wildlife refuge where the night predators can get him.

It gives me nightmares just thinking about it.

Its official

Belieeeeve me, it isn't often you see him like this. He's too big for his Daddy's hat but he loves trying to curl up in it.

CFM has been telling me all along that his name was Dusty but I've been trying to come up with something more - oh, I don't know - special. I mean really, you can't look at him and not say Awwww! But he doesn't respond to any of the names but Dusty, so I finally broke down and let these men have their way. Of course he has to have THREE names so Now the search is on for the last two.

Dusty Maximillian? Dusty Sebastian? Dusty Bear? Dusty MacTavish of Boggy Bayou. SHeesh!

Today CFM and I rigged up his playpen. I bought one of those old timey playpens with the rungs 5 inches apart so we had to figure out a way to board up the sides to make him a bigger play area. He loves it. Today he got his foot caught in a glue trap and screamed for me. I had to just apply a steady pressure to get it loose. He did not like it. So I went around the living room blocking off every path available to a four inch pup, hopefully.

I'm trying to make things as easy as possible for CFM when I go out of town for two weeks and he's left with the baby, literally. He didn't realize how much work a puppy would be, just wanted to do something nice for me for Christmas. Poor thing, he will have his hands full.

Puppy talk

Last week I introduced the newest member of the family, er, whatshisname? No, I haven't made the decision. I've called him Max, and Dusty, and Too Cute, and MiniBear, Meekins, Cujo, Simba, Smokey, and Dusty (which is CFMs choice). Then at Cadence's dress shop a lady bent down to get puppy love and said he looks like Sebastien to me. Hmm, I'd wanted a literary name of some kind and he has turned around when I called him Sebastien, but it's a lot of name for 1 lb dog. Speaking of a lot of name, while we were at the vets they reminded me that since he's registered he will need three names. So here's the latest attempt
Prince Sebastien Maximillian von Boggy Bayou, And we'd call him Dusty?
Then the girl at the pizza shop mentioned Oliver. I really like Oliver for him, but as soon as I mentioned calling him Oliver, CFM started bringing up those stupid names - Bob, Tony, Coty. The finalists are Sebastien, Bear, Oliver, Dusty, Smoky, Mac, Wolfy, and Prince.





Hey, kid, you're not supposed to lift your leg for months!












GOT MILK?

I've been following him around this morning with a camera to see what it's like at his level. At one point I caught him in his Daddy's shoe and when I started taking his picture he backup at warp speed dragging his shoe and his Christmas toy into his lair beneath the coffee table.




I was telling Leah about his temper tantrums. If I pick him up outside and try to bring him inside before he's ready, he throws a fit, knashing his teeth like the little werewolf lookalike he is. I've started carrying him to his box and ignoring him when he does that, but he's so pitiful and looks so hurt that I can't leave him for long.

He has his own brand of perfect communication, besides the tantrums, which every mother understands. "I want my way, now!" CFM says if he's whining he wants one of four things, to pee, to poop, to eat, to sleep. Sound like any little humans you know?

And after only a week of being weened he's using the newspaper 80% of the time, at 6 1/2 weeks old! I'm so impressed.

Unfortunately, after working next week and my trip to D.C. next month when he's in CFM's hands he'll probably have to be retrained. I doubt that he is going to be chasing him around and catching him in the act to redefine his habits.

Hey I'll settle for just making sure he doesn't eat a rock or catch some dread disease.

Vertigo

Things can turn on a dime. Friday morning I got up and went to the kitchen to get coffee and I heard a crash in the living room. "Did you drop something?" i asked CFM.

"No, I fell down," he yelled.

Turns out he lost his balance, actually didn't have any. I managed to get him to his recliner - he was so dizzy he couldn't even sit it in unless he was absolutely still.

For a man who's never been sick I'm sure this was terrifying or, knowing him, just terribly inconvenient to have to rely on someone else and not be able to go hunting. (Thank God he wasn't up a tree when the dizziness hit.) Anyway, by the time I got him loaded into the car for the trip to the ER he'd selfdiagnosed his malady as an eye nerve problem affecting his brain, brain cancer, or worse. He said, "I'm not going to handle being an invalid well."

My brain is of course spinning on all this. What will I do if there's something seriously wrong? How could I afford to work and take care of him? How can I pay the bills if I can't work?

For the last ten years or so, CFM has had to take motion sickness pills before getting up under one of our vehicles to change the oil. Otherwise he gets a severe headache and nausea. So when he got dizzy I gave him a couple of of those pills. By the time we got to the hospital he could at least walk with assistance.

Long story short, they did a CT scan and blood work and found out that other than the vertigo, he's still healthy as a horse. The doctor said many people get vertigo this time of year. They come in because they are unable to drive or walk down a hallway without holding onto the wall. "It just wears off eventually," she said. In the meantime, she put him on anti-vert and antibiotics incase it was an ear infection.

While we were waiting on the doctor, they took his blood pressure. It was high. Not surprising, he said, given the situation and his anxiety. I said, "Mine's probably up as well."

CFM says, "Why would yours be up? You're not sick."

IS THAT A TYPICAL MALE OUTLOOK OR WHAT!

The nature of the beast

You have to remember - originally they lived in caves and had us fetching stuff and cooking. Procreating and hunting for food was pretty much all they were interested in.

WAIT A MINUTE! Has anything changed?

CFM: Hey, where are you going?
Me: To the bathroom
CFM: Get me a cookie. (in the kitchen not the bathroom)
Me: Allright. So I go the extra mile to get him some cookies and when I get back to the living room -
CFM: Those are just those sugar cookies.
(I point out that they are the ONLY cookies.)
CFM: I wanted a Twinkie or a candy bar or something.
Me: Well, you should have said so. These are cookies and you asked for cookies.
(He's sitting in his recliner (his stone throne) with the 'gizmo' watching a western I taped for him.)

I believe underneath the sophisticated (wrong choice of words) veneer, he's still a caveman at heart. Me, caveman, you my woman. Retrieve.

It will be interesting to see how much is swept under the rug when I return from my trip to SC.

Honey, Hold That Tree

This week I read a couple blog posts, one by Robin Rotham from April 27 and Danielle Baer's that reminded me about the differences in the way men and women think. I thought of an experience that gets a new life everytime my husband wants help doing some task that's a little out of his league. His adventures would have made a great TV series like the one with Tim Allen.

He was cutting down some small pine trees near the house. He...misjudged the direction it would fall. Hint: NOT away from the house. So his solution was to put a rope around the tree and hand it to me, all 5'2" 120 lbs of me, and say, "Here, hold that tree!"

It doesn't take a very astute person to know what would happen next. And he has returned to this methodology many times. The reason?

Ever tried to interrupt a man while he's working on a household project? I get, "I can't talk to you right now" or "What! I'm busy." Guys are TOTALLY in the moment.

Next time you hear a meditation guru say something like 'be present' or 'be in the moment' just think like your man. They have it down pat.

Here's your sign

I purchased one of those gag signs with CFMan in mind. It said:

Please observe the following rules:
1. If you open it, shut it.
2. If you turn it on, turn it off.
3. If it's trash, throw it out.
4. If you take it out, put it back.
5. If you make a mess, clean it up.
...that's the gist of it.

CFman took one look at it and said, "That's a great sign. I need one of those to put up at the CF trailer. It says it all in a nutshell." (This from the man who leaves used paper towels lying on the counter, the air conditioner running, the refrigerator door open, and on...)

I just laughed and said, "Happy Father's Day!"

Clueless

Surprise!



I know what you're thinking - that my husband brought me flowers.

Well, he came home this afternoon with these gorgeous pink roses. My first thought was "whoa, what occasion is this? How sweet." (It would only be the second time he's ever brought me flowers.)

But no worries. He didn't break pattern.

He said, "They're from" (um, we'll call him) "Roy." A friend of ours who grew the roses and asked Joe to bring them to me. Roy and I became friends 20 years ago when I was singing around Natchez and he came to see me perform. We discovered we were both from Maryland. He'd moved to Natchez after he married.

I made him some fishing jigs when he and Joe started trading fishing tales. He said he "wanted to give me something he'd made."

So they will sit here on the table next to my recliner until they dry up. No chance Crawfish Man will get jealous. He's got the 'good feeling' - like HE bought the flowers. All he did was deliver. Clueless.

Thanks, Roy. You made my day.

Crawfish Time Brrrr

It's crawfish season again and as usual it starts off slow because of the cold weather. These ugly little mudbugs don't like to crawl out unless it's a pretty sunny day and they had a warm night's sleep. The thirties we've experienced since the first of the year are playing havoc with their routine.

Last year the farmers nearly went out of business with the high cost of diesel so they tried to wait on rain this year instead of pumping water with diesel run pumps. Unfortunately in the areas where the rain was needed it didn't show up, so between the cold and farmers getting a late start, the crawfish have been small, expensive, and immature.

As the season moves along and the crawfish get warmth and sunshine, they grow and their shells harden, making them more durable and more desirable. Neither the farmer nor the retailer has as much trouble with loss due to weak dying crawfish. (Late in the season, they are so hard you'll tear your fingernails trying to eat them.)

Since I wasn't raised here, it always surprises me the lengths people will go to for their favorite food. As a matter of fact, it seems like they are getting more and more addicted to crawdads.

Last week the weather was unseasonably cold for Central Louisiana so we anticipated slow sales, but late on Friday afternoon, with a driving wind, rain, then sleet mixed with snow, customers lined up fighting the elements to purchase crawfish.

I tried to capture the snow blowing with the sleet but all you can really see is the flag whipping in the 40 mph wind. Crawfish man is pretty rugged. He cleaned the crawfish, stood out by that cooker in the driving sleet, stirring the pot, then all the maintenance and cleanup. Whew!

Does it make you wonder what you're missing?

Who wrote this? oh yeah - I did

Good weather for writing today. Cold, high's in the 30s. Crawfish Man couldn't get crawfish so he thrummed about the house until he finally decided to go hunting. Whew.

I expected yesterday to get 2000 words written and again today. However, I've been working on a different project for the last month and when I returned to MOL yesterday, I had to completely re-read it. I just kept hitting chapter after chapter of new material, as if someone else had written it.

It's disconcerting when you wrote the story and it's completely new to you a month later. In some cases, that's a good thing, you're pleasantly surprised. 'Wow, I don't remember writing this, but I like it'. OR you're ready to ditch the whole mess.

Anyway, I've missed two days of writing forward, but hopefully tomorrow will be different.