Binky Wanna Go Boom

The SUV with the most heart, that has gone to Maine for us, 5800 miles in 2 weeks for our NW trip, the dogmobile, my farm car, yeah that one, well, she's got some quirks.

Binky in Nevada 

Binky has been displaying passive aggressive signs of resentment for over a year.  Each time I bring her to a dealership, they give her a clean bill of health.

At times, her systems ignore me and refuse to acknowledge that she's supposed to have a touch screen.  That was especially fun during the NW trip when knowing where you are is half the fun!
This past Winter, she registered her mutiny by overruling my demand for heat and only providing AC, full blast, thank you very much.
For her final act of defiance, a few weeks ago, she chose this:

Coupled with a strong, I mean strong smell of campfire in the cabin of the car.
Another trip, this time to a different dealership had me filled with hope.  Yet, once again, she failed to replicate the problem under a mechanic's stare. They tried to tell me that my 2015 Santa Fe was three electronic updates behind.  I'm sorry, but my laptop doesn't start to smell like it's on fire when I've been willfully ignoring its demands to update Windows.  Nice try.

I'll be ready when she decides to create her own funeral pyre.
Until then, she is no longer welcome to be parked anywhere near my house or the barn... I have toyed with leaving her alongside a Walmart though, but treading onto Walmart property would render null my ongoing boycott against them.  Any suggestion on overnight parking?  Dirty deeds done dirt cheap and toasty!

Peter's Big Adventure

On my day off, I decided the tribe had time for a big adventure. Peter was coming to the boonies with us.

Over a mile of trails with some impressive hills, Dax tethered to the bicycle helping to pull his old Pops, Peter.
On our return leg, Garrett loped past a big stick that moved.  I screamed to him to whoa, he turned and ran past it again.  This time it got into strike position. I left the crew up on the trail and went to investigate if it was friend or foe.

Definitely friend, but big and in the way.

Little road block cleared, we could continue our journey.

Guess who decided he wasn't into being head sled dog anymore? Just about gave myself a coronary pulling Peter in sand and up hills.  Thanks Dax!

At least it tuckered him out for the rest of the day!

Garrett enjoyed being off in the lead, which is rare as he starts off strong and ends up at the back of the pack.

Peter had the look of: "why is everyone so winded?".

My Tribe

Three years ago today, Garrett left behind a life of vagrancy and eating frogs.

After a long recovery from heartworms and pneumonia, the approx 3 year old dog went about his business more than doubling his weight.
The responsibilities of being a Smith tribesman involve a lot of pack traveling. Couch potatoes need not apply.

In 3 years, he's been from Maine to Oregon.

And a bunch of states in between.

Thousands of trail miles under his belt. 
It should be on our family crest: "Never Leave A Man Behind".
So, when Peter was recently diagnosed with a tick borne disease and one of his joints began to swell (stay tuned, he's been referred to Auburn University for evaluation next week), I had to consider leaving him behind every day when we go out to do our tribe thing.

Some days he waved me on from his perch on the couch, other days, he chews on the door trim if he deems himself abandoned, and then one morning, he leaped out the window to follow us. His eyes were glaring: "You promised you'd never, ever, ever leave me...traitor!".
Plan B:

His first time in the wagon:

He was such a good passenger that I used Dax to pull us to work the next day.

I threw a handful of treats in there and told Dax: "let 'er rip, Tater Chip!".

Peter may be about to embark on a difficult stage of his life, but he won't be alone, the Tribe has got his back.

Tempestuous

Tempestuous, adjective /tem'pesCH(oo)es/: characterized by strong, turbulent and conflicting emotions.

Layman's terms:  love-hate relationship.
Dax turned 11 months old May 1st... amazingly, in spite of various suicide attempts and incidents causing near infanticide.
The No-Longer-So-Tiny Terrorist's new game is to run far away and not come back for at least 45 minutes.  This can take the form of swimming from one side of the lake to the other to avoid capture; evading me until shy of midnight, when I lose my composure and fetch him by wading, fully dressed, into the lake; or my all-time favorite, after exiting the Boonies at dusk, pretending to load into the car and taking off into the woods instead.  The last one was his coup de grace. 
X-rays had shown fractures in my foot and I was 'supposed' to be off from running. Tell that to the genius who was yipping after a herd of deer he was chasing well off the property onto neighbors' lands.  I left the car running with the AC and windows down for Peter and Garrett, taking off without phone or flashlight...using his barks as my beacons. I love adventure, but galloping like a moose through underbrush by moonlight, isn't quite it.  I found him exhausted and unable to run, two farms away, I could hear the cars on the highway, we were that far from home.  I carried him back, 45 minutes to the property line, using Venus as my guide (thank goodness I've been trying to teach myself some star navigation basics).  I soon find the car and we actually make it home before midnight.
Next Bonehead maneuver: playing with snakes.

One innocent rat snake trying to wolf down a lizard.  A certain maleficent is caught harassing it.  
Next, we're out running in the Boonies, yes running, albeit slowly.
Quick aside to explain:  MRI showed three fractured bones.

Both sesamoids.

And this phalange.  Plus a hideous amount of arthritis.  6 weeks in the Frankenstein boot is the doctor's order.

Been there, done that, bopping around 18 hours a day with an uneven gait makes my opposite hip's arthritis so angry I can't sleep at night. My solution:

New Hoka trail running shoes with oodles of cushioning and a third of the price of the Frankie boot.

And I even follow recuperation protocol of elevating my foot every few hours.
Happy?

As long as I run flat footed instead of my preferred ball strike, I'm OK.

Don't argue with me, it's futile.  Running is what we do. Even Peter, mostly. Peter has been diagnosed with erlichiosis (tick borne disease), so he's off the hook while undergoing treatment for the next month.

A day without an explosive bloodletting of exercise makes for a life not worth living. Preach moderation all you want, I'm too old to figure it out.  I'll be the 85 year old kicked out of the nursing home for running down the halls and choking out other residents in wrestling holds.

Wiser people meditate, I have to sweat.
A little danger never hurts either. Here I am reenacting how (thanks to Dax of course) I tripped over a rattlesnake this week.

While running in the Boonies, Dax ran up and down past me three times, I was staring at that moron's antics when...

I step on something soft and feel a slap on my calf.

... the oh sh&%t moment.  My theory is that the snake was preparing to strike at the annoying puppy who'd leaped over him three times and was making a fourth approach when Mama Moose dropped over 140 lbs on him from behind. Very quickly Dax is swooped up in my arms and rushed to the utility vehicle. Garrett trotting behind us. No one bitten!

...too much in panic mode once at vehicle when I realize that I have been caught at the 1% of the time that I am without fire power.  I call in the cavalry and return to hunt down the snake that did NOT have the courtesy to remain at the same place. During the 10 minutes it took Flynn to get to the Boonies, I made a concentric search pattern to reacquire said snake.  You know they have great camouflage... just about stepped on it again.

All non venomous snakes are welcomed, but vipers have no place in our horse pastures.  Sorry Charlie.  The deceased snake currently resides in my fridge, being used a training tool to snake proof Dax.  Quick guess... he's not a great pupil.
But, can he play...for hours.

For that, he does have the attention span.

Don't believe that Peter is an innocent bystander--he seeks out his puppy's company.

As aggravating as he is, I suppose we're stuck with him.

This is how he fell asleep on my lap last week during work trips to Lake Wedowee 100 miles away.
The reward for being such a good traveler:

His first kayaking lesson.  Do note that he is not in the kayak-- suffice it to say the water isn't as cold as you'd expect it to be on May 3rd!

Tirelessly  little tugboat!

Loch Ness of the South.
And to cap of our evenings, we've gotten into the habit of watching nature shows.

He's one of a kind, my Dax!

Axel Update

Three weeks ago, Axel underwent eye surgery.

Since then, I've been eroding at the bond of trust we built over 20 years by subjecting him to drops three times a day, initially three separate prescriptions.  That's 9 applications daily.  Which really had me wondering if the vet school lead me down the wrong path instead of enucleation (removing the eyeball completely).
Our Dr. Brown had been coming to recheck him, but his major reevaluation was Tuesday.

I sandwich my nearly 20 year old truck and 55 year old trailer between a 40k truck and 20k trailer and an even more impressive 50k trailer and new F-550 (a rig worth more than the median Alabama home).

More posh rigs from Ocala, Florida were taking up space in front of reception.

Then there was the lone dinky little 2 horse bumper pull towed by an SUV parked in the bottom of the lot.  Instead of the perfunctory "isn't that cute" thought, I got ill (to clear things up for you Canadians, I was not puking in the bushes, I was mad). The driver probably parked it off on its own for the quiet, but I imagined it was because he felt less worthy,  He obviously wasn't cramming a 16 hand Warmblood into that cubicle, but the clothes do not make the emperor.  

Behind in their appointments, Axel waited an hour for his turn in the opthalmology exam room. No better time to practice the massage techniques I've been studying in Linda Tellington-Jones's book. Two groups of students were sent during the interim to listen to his cardiac problem.  Due to the more gentle ride in his 1960's school bus versus the borrowed ride from the time before, and perhaps the massage, only a handful of the students could identify the premature heartbeat. This dude was too chill! The cardiologist was even summoned and she had to wait 4 minutes before a single anomaly occurred. Am I peeved at the hefty cardio exams from the initial exam?  No. Now I know that stress can actually kill him, I call that preemptive knowledge.  

Axel undergoes an hour of exams while standing sedated.  I even get to look through the lighted head microscope.  I peered into my boy's soul and saw a cloud of golden asteroids.  His geriatric eyes are being assaulted by numerous chronic diseases, but considering he's 75 years old in human years, the opthalmologists tout his youthful eyes.  

I cherish each farrier, vet and vet school visit.  I always learn so much.  Here, a student poses in the new eye medicine dispensing technique that I was taught.  They were alerted to my poor technique by my request to double the prescriptions...

My little old man leaves the vet school with an A+.  

Understandably unenthused.

We glide back to the farm by 8 PM.  Ten years ago, while I was building my house, before I had time to renovate the horse trailer to the moving violation it is now, I lived in it for 9 months.  No electricity, no water, no fans, broken windows and holes in the roof.  She was my home and now she is the rolling fortress that keeps my most precious loves safe.  

I believe everything has a form of spirit.  I collect rocks from places Cole and I have run in order to bring home some of the energy we all shared.  I equally have great respect for the machines and equipment that allow me follow my passions.

This year, I've dropped a small fortune into body work and refurbishing my old truck.  Boss is her name, she's about to crest 200k miles, she made me oodles of money in my landscaping business... dammit, she's earned every penny.