And cold for me, living here in Houston means 32 degrees or below when you get up. I live in far west Houston, about 6 blocks from Katy, a suburb where I used to live; so I still tell people that I live in Katy. It was 28 degrees in Katy Saturday morning.

Yeah, I know, poor me. But you mountain folk that are now starting to freeze your hoo-hoos and ta-tas off please remember something. That while you bask in wonderful weather in the summertime, we here in Houston are in the 7th circle of Hell, with God awful heat and humidity so high that you can wring sweat out of your undies after just a quick trip to the store.

I wouldn’t have even had to have heard that this morning to know it was cold Saturday morning.

I have a four-legged thermometer.

His name is Gizmo.

Doug let our pack out of their crates and everyone blasted out the dog door to greet the day and do their business- everyone but one, that is.

Gizmo.

Gizmo ran to the dog door, put his head out into the crisp morning air, and said “I don’t think so.” He ran, literally ran, back into his crate and burrowed under his blanket. If he could’ve slammed the door shut, he would’ve.

Doug said he reminded him of Punxatawny Phil, the famous groundhog of Pennsylvania.

Doug latched the door to Gizmo’s crate and it was another two hours before Giz barked to go outside. Eventually he went outside to do his thing but he didn’t dally. He went out and back in quickly, kinda like a SEAL mission, only this one was all about peeing.

What can I say, he’s a South Beach kinda guy.

I had known the cold front was coming for a day or two and had actually been looking for one of the jackets that Evelyn had made him last year. (She dotes on him because he’s so tiny.) Apparently when we moved in such a rush last May, I didn’t remember to write down where I packed them. Go figure.

I’m a bad mom. I blame it being hormonally challenged.

And since it was so close to Thanksgiving I couldn’t just ask Evelyn to whip up another one. She was crazy busy getting ready for the superfeast that was to be held at her house. I thought about making him a jacket out of a tube sock. (We’ve done that before in a pinch.)  In years past I wouldn’t have been quite so concerned, but since he was so sick a few months ago, I tend to worry more about him these days.

Gizmo is a Chorkie, Chihuahua/Yorkie mix; he’s not a big guy. And being half chihuahua fur is not really his thing. I mean he has some, but it’s thin- really thin. My plan was to go to Petsmart and get him something warm to wear til Evelyn had a new jacket ready for him. On the way there Doug stopped at the $0.99 only store. Of course that’s not an unusual occurrence.

It’s a daily pilgrimage for him. Apparently it calls to him, like the mermaids in mythology that lures unsuspecting sailors onto the rocks.

Some people go to Mecca, some go to Lourdes. Doug makes a daily pilgrimage to the $$ store. I’ve suggested having a pneumatic tube installed at our house. It would just suck him up and deposit him directly at the door of store. It would be so much more efficient and free up the car too.

I thought it was a great idea. Doug, not so much.

But yesterday, it was a fortuitous stop. They had dog clothes there for only $4.99! Who knew?

When I got home Gizmo saw me holding his new sweater and ran right over to me. He somehow knew that it was for him. How, I do not know, but he did. He actually barked at me til I go it on him.

So here in his new winter sweater is Gizmo, the alpha dog of our pack, all 7 lbs. of him.  Since it’s warming here over the next few days this little sweater will be just fine. He’ll keep some kind or sweater or coat on now until sometime in March at least.

Hopefully his fairy Godmother Evelyn will have a new jacket ready for him before the really cold weather sets in. I mean, he can’t reign with an iron paw if he’s cold after all.

Apparently another huge sports event was also this weekend, but was eclipsed by World Cup coverage. It was the 14th Annual Redneck Games.

Originally called the Bubba Games way back in 1995, the event has grown over the years. The events included Redneck Horseshoes (played with toilet seats), the ever-popular Bobbin for Pig’s Feet, Hubcap Hurling and the Armpit Serenade Contest. The day was jam packed action from start to finish.

Apparently the highlight of the day however was the Mud Pit Belly Flop contest. I’m happy to report that Redneck Grandma successfully defended her title this year.

Not to be outdone by the Olympics, the Redneck Games even have their own trophy- a crushed and mounted  Bud Light can.

The family in happier times

I find it odd however that there wasn’t a “Best Mullet” contest. I felt sure that would’ve been the most popular contest since no true physical prowess is involved, nor any training needed, other than keeping far away from anyone with taste or style.

Apparently I was not the only one both amazed and disheartened by the omission of the event. Mr. Billy Bob Jumpback, his wife Mrs. Billy and son Lil Billy traveled all night to get to the festival only to discover that tragically, there was no Best Mullet contest this year.

Festival organizers said they decided to omit the event this year since Dog, the Bounty Hunter, had one it for the last 5 years straight and there were rumors about the contest being rigged.

The Jumpback family vowed to be back next year after being reassured by the committee that the event would be included in next year’s festivities.

Also missing was Redneck Water Skiing. I feel sure though that as soon as the festival organizers see this video that they’ll be sure to include in next ear’s games.

I know those of you who are avid sports fans or married to one, will want this link so you can plan your next summer vacation accordingly.

Evelyn has four furry souls that reside with her right now- one dog and three cats. She has her #1 canine- Annie- her rescued American Cattle dog, Topaz, an ancient calico who is queen of all she surveys, Zoe, a Halloweenie ( all black) kitty who’s a real sweetie; and then there’s Buddy.

Buddy is a ginormous tuxedo cat. He weighs 15 lbs if he weighs an ounce. Buddy is on an extended visit at Evelyn’s. His owner is between apartments, so Evelyn said he could stay at her house for awhile- til August to be exact. As everyone knows I’m a dog person, so I don’t understand all the peccadilloes that cats have. But this is the most self-assured cat that I’ve ever encountered. He just oozes entitlement. Although Annie tries to herd everybody, she doesn’t try to herd Buddy. He just sits there and looks at her. It looks like he thinking “Bring it. Come on. Just try it”.

Evelyn has been the hostess with the mostest, Buddy-wise and how does he repay her? By trying to escape whenever he can. When she catches him outside is he remorseful and stricken with shame? Hell no. He’s a cat. The first time she retrieved him she came away from it bleeding on both arms and wound up covered with band-aids. He got out and was missing for 5 days recently. Evelyn went so far as to call as pet detective. (I was sure the next step was going to be a Ouija board). Thankfully, he came back, slipping in without being noticed, just like he had slipped out. Cats are sneaky.

Yesterday he ran out the back door when Annie pushed it in. I didn’t know he was out til I heard a big commotion. Buddy was out alright, but instead of the leisurely stroll I’m sure he had planned, he was greeted by my pack. Greeted might not actually be the correct word. Accosted might be more accurate. By the time I got there, Buddy was on his back being examined up close and personal by the pack. They’re not usually around a cat so to say they were interested would be a huge understatement. To their credit, they didn’t hurt him; not they should’ve have- but you know the whole dog/cat thing.

Buddy was on his back for just a few seconds. I started yelling to distract my group and when I did, Buddy ran up the tree like his tail was on fire.

Evelyn took this photo of Buddy atop the tree. We got all the dogs quieted and secured then Doug put a ladder next to the tree. As soon as he did that Buddy came down and his own and made a beeline for the back door. If he doesn’t try to escape out the back again, Evelyn’s thinking about having our pack wait for him just outside the front door. Aversion therapy in action I guess. BTW- Buddy is just fine and back to being his condescending self. Cats.

Annie at the puppy mill

Three months ago or so Evelyn adopted Annie, an Australian Cattle Dog. Annie was a rescue. She had endured a harsh existence prior to being rescued. It was thought that she’d had at least 10 litters of pups in her short life already. She had lived most of her life in a 55 gal.drum either in it, or chained to it, for 4 years. Her only protection from inclement weather was the barrel itself and if the storm happened to come from the direction in which the opening was facing that was just too bad for her. No one knows just what she went through- snow, sleet, rain. It was horrific. Initially Annie went to a foster home for ACDs (Australian Cattle Dogs) to be assessed and try to regain her health. Please read on, things get better.

Annie was kinda shy when she first arrived at Evelyn’s house. She wouldn’t go outside to potty alone, instead having to have someone next to her at all times. She didn’t know how to play, didn’t understand it. Annie couldn’t have gone to a better mom. Evelyn sat on the floor with her for extended periods teaching her to play and eventually Annie learned how. Now she loves it. Evelyn said she wanted a “velcro dog”. Well she got that in spades. Annie follows her everywhere she goes, even into the bathroom. If Evelyn had a pouch, Annie would happily climb in, all 45 lbs. of her.

Thanksgiving was Annie’s first big holiday. She really made the most of it. Tuesday afternoon I went over to Annie’s. Her mom and I started getting things ready for Thanksgiving. The first batch of zucchini bread was no bueno. The somewhat briquettish loaves were left out on the kitchen table while we were in the den. Thirty minutes later we didn’t see Annie. Where was she? She was hiding in the corner of the dining room eating overcooked zucchini bread like she was going to the chair. (She had downed two loaves before we found her). The next day I looked away for a second and she snitched a fry off my plate. A pattern was starting to emerge.

I roasted acorn squash for Thanksgiving dinner and Annie really enjoyed it when I offered her a little. She was on her best behaviour that day. However, she made up for it yesterday. After turkey dinner all the desserts were put on the kitchen table. It was quite a spread with three pies, brownies, vanilla ice cream and some of my coconut cupcakes from the day before. People were in the living room, the craft room, the bathroom. No one was still in the kitchen, or so we thought. A sneaky Australian cattle dog named Annie had quietly gone back to the kitchen. The next thing I heard was “ANNIE!- GET DOWN”! When I got to the kitchen I discovered that Annie had wolfed down two of the Barefoot Contessa’s coconut cupcakes and also had sunk her choppers into the apple-cranberry pie.

Annie was stricken with remorse after being chastised; or so we thought. We were wrong. Annie should go to Hollywood. That girl dog can act! She waited til the house was quiet with everyone in bed, then commando Annie sneaked back into the kitchen for one last mission. This time she went for the big score, raiding the overstuffed trash can itself. Now in all the time prior to Thanksgiving week, Annie had been really good, never filching food she wasn’t given or raiding the trash. Evelyn couldn’t be exactly sure of everything that Annie actually ate last night in her midnight raid. However one thing she knows for sure. A picked-clean turkey carcass was on the couch this morning and Evelyn was sure she didn’t leave one there before going to bed.

She can't believe she ate the whole thing.

What else did Evelyn find this morning? A very happy, but very bloated, Australian cattle dog named Annie laying on the couch. Annie hadn’t thrown up.  I found that amazing. What was also amazing what the prodigious amount of poop left in the den by only one dog.  Rememebr the old Alka-Seltzer ad- I can’t believe I ate the whole thing? I betcha Annie felt just like that late last night. Evelyn and I are taking Annie to dog park today so we can all start working off some of our holiday calories. We may be there an incredibly long time.

The good news is Annie doesn’t seem to have suffered any dire consequences from her excesses. The bad news is (for her) is that from now on the louvered doors to the kitchen will be kept closed. All good things come to an end eventually.

One day Major Dennis received orders that his unit was to relocate. According to regs the Marines would not be able to keep Nubs so they watched as he ran alongside the Hummers as they pulled away. Two days later, in 18 degree weather, Nubs showed up at their new camp.  They said he looked as if he’d been in a war. Nubs had traveled 70 miles through the desert to find his old friends. The Marines then decided that Nubs deserved to stay and have a better life, even building him a doghouse. Eventually the Benita of the unit ratted them out and the M.P.’s showed up saying that Nubs had to go within four days or be shot. Brian Dennis and his friends launched an internet campaign and raised the money needed to get Nubs to the U.S.

Skip to the happy ending- Nubs now lives in Southern California with Brian Dennis. The story of their friendship and unique bond is documented in the book Nubs: The true story of a Mutt, a Marine & a Miracle.

Two and a half years ago at Evelyn’s house one afternoon when her garage door had been left open. She went back out to close it what was there? a puppy! Evelyn wasn’t looking to get another dog, much less a puppy. However Amanda and Nate were living with her at the time and decided that the puppy would stay and become theirs unless his owner could be found. He was a small, cute, round, bundle of fur of about 6 lbs.. A week later with no owner to be found, the vet predicted he would grow to be about 35 lbs- a nice, manageable size.  (I wondered about that estimate since his paws were huge.)

Charlie Brown and his folks moved into our garage apartment when he was about 1 yr. old. By then, he’d graduated from obedience school. (Not that I could tell much of a difference.) When he came to live here he was a big, oafy little kid of a dog whose four legs seemed to have a mind of their own with no two ever going the same direction. By now he’d been nicknamed “The Beast.” Nothing in the house was safe. Every time I looked around, he’d grown bigger.  He’s so tall by now that he can rest his chin on the dining room table; his body so long he looks like one of those city buses that has a pleated extension in the middle.

A few months ago Nate and Amanda moved into their own home. One day they made the mistake of  underestimating just how tall  he was. Charlie Brown got an entire bottle of fish oil capsules off the counter while his parents were out. Apparently he had quite the picnic eating all 150 capsules. (Thankfully, they weren’t toxic.) However, that’s not to say there were no consequences. Big hound dog+150 fish oil capsules+white carpeting=an ugly situation. As bad as the carpet situation was, there was something worse to come. The smell of fish oil emanated from Charlie Brown for weeks. That smell permeated everything he came into contact with. They had to clean, then re-clean everything. Then do it all again. When he entered the room, you knew it. I still gave him hugs. (However, the days when I couldn’t get right home to change clothes I regretted it). Since he doesn’t live with me anymore though I could just sit back and laugh. I did that a lot. Sometimes being grandma is fun. today’s trivia answer- 1/2 oz.

Charlie Brown is ginormous

A volunteer from Texas Cattle Dog Rescue brought Annie to her new home last Sunday. Annie and 507 other dogs were rescued from a puppy mill that was closed down. According to the vet, Annie had two litters of puppies a year for the last five years. Annie could use a boob lift. Something I an relate to. (Perhaps I can find a BOGO for us). She had been living in a plastic 55 gal. drum that had a hole cut in the side of it. (She couldn’t even completely stretch out her legs while she was in the drum). There was a 3′ rope attached so she could get out to potty but couldn’t run away. She had mange and had to have 80 stitches when she was rescued. I think people who run puppy mills should just be shot- no trial, no nothing.

Evelyn kept Annie to herself the whole first day, just wanting time alone to bond with her. Annie was friendly but not playful. She didn’t know how to play- She’d never been allowed to play. Yesterday, we all went over to Evelyn’s for dinner- but I went mainly to meet Annie. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d never really been around a dog that had come from such horrific circumstances.  When I entered the house Annie came to greet me. I called her Annie and Sweet Pea. She came to the couch with me and lifted her paw so I could rub her tummy.

After dinner, Evelyn got down on the floor with her to try to teach her to play. Within 10 minutes Annie was racing around the room. She ran over the top of all of everybody on the couch to get back to her mom more quickly.  Annie and Evelyn played hard for at least 10 minutes. Then Annie laid down near Evelyn’s feet and zonked out. (I think I saw a smile on Annie’s face while she slept). She’s going to be just fine, better than fine actually. She’s a very lucky girl dog now. If you’re going to get a new pet, please think about a rescue. They are great; I have 6 now, and they’re always grateful for a second chance at life. Today’s trivia answer: 3,000

Here are two great links to help animals, and it doesn’t cost you a thing. All you have to do is click on them each day and food is provided to an animal in a shelter. You can click to help cats too. http://www.freekibble.com and http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com

We were going to be with Swirley. Time to be with her before and then while she was “put to sleep.” When we got there Evelyn was in bad shape. She said Swirley had had a good day before but the night was just awful. This was not a total surprise. Swirley had been diagnosed with Cushing’s about a month ago and the bad times were now more frequent than the good ones. She had developed diabetes about a year ago. That had been under control. It was hard the past year not to give her sweet treats, but we did it. We wanted her around.

She was a great girl dog. She was extremely timid when I met her the first time. She had been rescued from an area that had been hit by a tornado. Evelyn told me before I met her that Swirley didn’t like men very much. When Doug first came into the house Swirley stayed far away and wouldn’t come anywhere near him. Over time she warmed to him and they became close. When she was happy she’d make these yipping sounds. Evelyn called it “monkey talk.”

Since I do dog rescue I have known a lot of dogs.  However, I had never known an Australian Cattle Dog before. They are really cool. Sometimes in the yard she would look like she was just waiting for the photographer to snap her photo for a calender. “Is this my best side?”

By the time we got to the house yesterday her bad episode from the night before had finally stopped.  When we got there I sat on the floor and gave her a big hug then sat and stroked her back for a few minutes. Then her feast began. Swirley had 2 sausage kohlaches, lots of Pupperonis and two doughnuts. (The last one she got out of the box herself- it had cherry icing and sprinkles.) How good can it get? To finish her feast she had a bowl of beef bourginon.

Everyone enjoyed seeing her eat with such gusto all the foods that had been forbidden. Then Evelyn said it was time to go. The trip to the vet was quiet. After arriving  all the necessary papers were signed and Swirley was taken to the back. Then we were taken back to be with her. She loved her vet and had been there many times before so she wasn’t stressed at all. Dr. Slomer came with the injection. She was crying as well. I’ve never seen that in my life. It was touching.

In just over a minute it was over. Swirley was gone and on to the Rainbow Bridge. I hated to see her go. I understand it was time but I hated it none the less. I spent the rest of the day with Evelyn trying to keep her propped up, so to speak, and not to cry again myself.

Thinking about it now I realize that yesterday went about as well as it could have. The last hour before she was surrounded by everyone who loved her. We got to say goodbye and she had the feast of her life. Her last minutes were peaceful with her loved ones hands on her. We should all be so lucky. She was one fantastic girl dog and will never be forgotten.