Pain

My last post here was August.  A while ago....looking at how things change, eternity actually.  I have written about the dogs here numerous times and on that other site as well.  A brief update here.  Beulah, around Christmas time, began to drink copiously.  Being a former copious drinker myself, I didn't really pay attention to it, until two days in a row there was an accident in the house.  Unheard of for her.  A trip to the vet confirmed fears and she was diagnosed with diabetes.  In addition to this, a cataract was forming in one eye.  An injection daily of insulin would hopefully slow down progress, but within about 3 weeks, my best girl was completely blind.

If you have read my earlier stuff, you might assume that this would lead to her end.  It hasn't.  It may still, but not yet.  She has adapted unbelievably well.  She is still herself.  Happy, affectionate and smart.  My dad told me I should put her down.  I can't.  Not yet.  I told him that some people need seeing eye dogs.  Beulah needs seeing eye people.  She knows the house and only bumps into things when they are not as they were.  She finds her food and water.  She stands patiently for her daily shot and wags her tail when I praise her when it is complete.  She goes outside and follows me by listening for my footsteps.  She actually, to an extent, chases the ball still and will bring it back to my voice.  She finds it by ear and smell if I roll it past her not to far.  She wants to play with Karlie, but it ends up being too much for her.  That is the part that is heartbreaking.  She comes to my bedside and puts her paws up on the bed and licks my hand to go out in the night if she needs to.  I can't put her down yet.  She is still herself.  She loves us even if she can't see us and we still love her.

I put down Rascal two years ago in April.  It still bothers me, but she was 19 years old and could no longer walk.  I have put down many animals in my life and may be getting soft in my old age, but as long as Beulah is still there, I won't let an inconvenience to us be her end.

We rescued another dog, Brinley, from the shelter.  A three year old border collie mix who is very sweet and can play with Karlie and take the pressure off Beulah.  It has been working out well although some adaptation has been required.

Dogs are the best.  They give you everything unconditionally.  I know that the end will come for Beulah, as complications due to the diabetes go beyond the blindness.  I will be vigilant for her sake.  For now though I will be happy with what she can give.

Mark Twain wrote, "Heaven goes by favor.  If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in."

It's A Dog's Life

A Hole In The Water

Living on the water makes owning a boat, if not a necessity, then certainly an expected accessory.  My first boat was a 1953 Alumacraft that my grandfather bought new.   In the early 70’s he got distracted and did not pull the boat up high enough on the beach.  The wind came up, as it has a tendency to do here, and heavy seas drug the boat out and smashed it on the beach and filled it with stones.  I spent two days digging it out of the rocks and another day beating the dents out of it with a sledgehammer. After that I spent quite a bit of time pounding loose rivets, installing screws to replace the ones that popped out and putting silicone on all the seams.  I still needed to bring a coffee can with me every time I went out so that I could bail. I had been able to row the boat (I could not use Gramp’s motor and provided one I found in the local dump later – that I wrote about elsewhere) all I wanted prior to the mishap.  Afterwards, with all the effort, the boat became mine.  Can you imagine an eight or nine year old with his own boat? 

Fishing and general screwing around were what I used the boat for.  The boat was light enough to just pull up and down the beach and required no special equipment.  And I was sure to pull it up all the way whenever I was done using it.

Later, in my teens, I bought a 14ft Caddy, made by the Cadillac boat company in Michigan in the 50’s.  Having by this time a fairly extensive collection of old outboard motors scavenged or bartered from here or there, I was big time when I had two 4 hp Martin “40” outboards on the back of it.  We fished every species in the lake, including salmon and our primary leisure time activity in the summer was fishing.

Once I was an adult (or at least thought I was), I bought a 1967 Cruisers 21 ft boat with a 350 Chevy and Mercruiser stern drive.  We had loads of fun in the boat, but it required more space, more maintenance and more equipment to maintain.  It was not easy to put in and out of the water and required a vehicle and a trip to one of the local launch ramps.  Extensive winterization and summerization was required and you could not store it by simply flipping it upside down and putting the outboard on a rack in the garage.  Because it was over 16 ft long, the Coast Guard had additional safety equipment requirements along with navigational lights etc.  Don’t get me wrong, we had lots of fun in the boat.  The kids tubed behind it, we caught lots of salmon and other fish, but it just wasn’t convenient and leaving it in the water over the summer would mean paying for dock space.  When the kids stopped showing interest in fishing with Dad, I parked it and didn’t register it any more.  I swore off bigger boats and returned to the convenience and ease of a small aluminum boat that could be easily slid up and down the beach.  My wife and I enjoy an occasional (if not often enough) troll for bass.  Life was good.  Boating was easy.  I was finally smart.....at least until...

Against my better judgement, last fall I purchased a 1975 Slickcraft ss240 sport sedan boat.  24 ft of luxury that was sitting on a trailer along the side of the road begging for me to dicker on it.  A solid boat, well-constructed, with a nice cabin and a 233hp Mercruiser stern drive, it was in need of a bit of TLC due to having sat for the last 6 years and some minor damage to the outdrive.

I dickered back and forth with the owner and after not reaching an agreement, walked away.  Two days later, he looked me up and accepted what was my final offer from the dickering session.  Like a damn fool, I figured I got a good deal.  What I should have realized is that I got a “good deal” of work.

I started last fall with the initial cleanup and assessment and continued this spring/early summer in my spare moments.  I pumped 80 gallons of stale, yellow turpentine smelling gasoline from the 100 gallon tank.  I fabricated and installed a “prosthetic” cavitation plate out of stainless steel to repair the one that had been broken when the previous owner had backed it into a post in the shed he stored it in.  I changed all the fluids, repaired the hydraulics on the power trim, replaced some wiring that the mice had enjoyed at some point and between my wife and myself, scrubbed 6 years of grime off the boat.  I installed a new bilge pump and spent a number of hours rebuilding the carburetor and getting the engine running.  I put $300 worth of premium fuel and additive in the tank.  I ran the engine on land with a garden hose for almost two hours.  I verified the operation of all the electronics.  I installed a 9.9hp “kicker” outboard and I broke down and made arrangements for dock space so I could leave the boat in the water and thereby have some reasonable hope of actually using it this year.

The time was here!  Time to put it back in the water!  Early Saturday morning and my wife and I went to the launch ramp.  In the water it went.  Not as easy as I would like, but who cares?  It’s going to stay in the water for the rest of the summer, right?  Engine starts right up and runs pretty good although because of some missed grime in the carb, it wants to die every time I shift into gear.  I turn the idle speed up and plan to take it out and run the hell out of it to hopefully dislodge whatever varnish is causing my idling issue.  Out on the lake I go, planning to make a couple of loops of the harbor and then bringing it into the dock where my wife will be waiting to help me tie up.  No sooner do I get out of the harbor and on the open lake, and I am going in circles as the steering has failed.  The engine is running nice, but I am stuck.  The wind is blowing out of the south and I am drifting further out into the lake.  I drop an anchor to assess the situation and determine the problem is in the gimble ring of the stern drive and I have no way of fixing it where I am (in spite of a toolbox full of tools).  The kicker motor steering is accomplished through a linkage to the stern drive, so in order to use it to get back would mean dangling over the stern and hoping I was steering in the right direction.  I have paddles on board, but with the wind, that would be a losing battle in a boat this size.  What the fuck was I thinking when I bought this monstrosity that has now left me sitting?  Did I mention too that Beulah was along for the ride, now drift?

I am anchored in about 70 ft of water about ½ mile off shore, still scratching my head and coming to the conclusion that the best solution is to simply swim in to shore, walk to the truck go home and get my aluminum boat and outboard and tow myself in.  This is not such a dire situation; thank God, that I need to use the radio to call for help.  I have called my wife’s cell a number of times, but she does not answer and I am guessing that she has probably left it on the kitchen table and is at this moment standing on the dock wondering just what the fuck I am doing.

I sit down on the cushioned engine hatch and begin to take off my shoes.  I will have to lock Beulah in the cabin so she does not attempt to swim in with me.  As I am removing my socks, and talking to Beulah, I hear an approaching boat that is slowing down.  I look up and see the familiar stance of my Dad in the boat.  He and an old buddy have gone out fishing and luckily and coincidentally his buddy needed the use of shore facilities and had gone into the harbor where I had launched and were coming back out to return to fishing.  They towed me in.

There is a saying that a boat is simply a hole in the water that an idiot throws money into.  This is a completely accurate and true statement.  I will be paying for the tow for a long time to come.

Incidentally, I repaired the gimble ring and put the boat back in the water the next day and my wife and I enjoyed a nice cruise and it is now sitting at the dock as originally intended.  All is well…..for now.

I keep eyeing my aluminum boat and thinking to myself how foolish I actually am.

Karlie's First Snake

 

 

Not particularly interesting to you and me, but Karlie found it fascinating.

 

 

 

and of course Beulah shows interest too, although she has seen plenty of snakes.

Spring Renewal Continues

With the snow mostly gone and the ice likely to go out any day with the right wind, it is starting to feel more and more like spring.

This little guy makes it a sure thing.  He arrived sometime Friday night and while still a bit wobbly, is doing great. Now that he is finally here, I might actually be able to get Hannah, his mother, to stand still long enough to trim her hooves and brush the winter matted mess that is her coat.

We have yet to name him, but are seriously considering Matthew.  You can vote in the comments.

Some of you have asked how Karlie is doing.  She has become a very normal puppy with the exception of a few unreasonable fears that she may never get over.  Only time will tell.  She is definitely a happy dog now as opposed to the frightened timid little girl she was a couple months ago.  When we first got her, kicking the ball would have sent her to hide under the truck.  This video from a couple weeks ago when we still had snow illustrates that she is over that fear......thanks largely to Beulah.

Spring Renewal

Easter Sunday.  It is bright and sunny, but cold.  Real spring, although already here based on the calendar, seems miles and miles away.  As I am feeding round bales to the animals, I am thinking of Easters past.  The time my sister came home with her family and my niece and nephew skipped Easter services to watch a calf being born.  Sort of the ultimate renewal if you think about it and honestly, as fitting as any service for the day.  That was years ago, but still brings a smile to my face as I remember my sister thinking that the cow would be considerate enough to hurry things along so that the kids would not miss church.  She did not cooperate.  My dad and I laughed at my sister's frustration.

This year, with our slow spring, I am behind schedule.  Actually, I can't remember a time that I was not behind schedule.  Frost still in the ground is good for getting in the woods, but my roads get greasy as the temperature gets above freezing.  I can't even begin to think about plowing, let alone picking stone (the best crop I raise is stone).  I have fence to repair and several sections to rebuild and the frost is making it impossible to auger in the holes for the corner posts that I need to install.  I have hooves to trim and that always seems to be a struggle in the spring due to mud.  My draft horses will not want to go into the stock (a device that contains and supports them during trimming - with hooves like 5 gallon buckets, I need all the help I can get).  I have a bull calf that I need to catch and turn into a steer and although I don't blame the sassy little bastard for not working with me, I have never been good at roping! I have a well going in at my shop within the month and the frost is keeping my trenching activities curtailed.  I have equipment to repair and service in preparation for hay season, which will be upon me before I know it and the cold weather lulls one into thinking it is still long away. 

We are taking a year off from hogs this year because of too many other projects.  That will reduce the work load, but it seems that it did not add the available hours I expected. I had hoped to go wild turkey hunting this year, but it doesn't look like I will have the time.

I am getting too damned old for all this, but I can't seem to stop.  Spring is a time of hope and plans.  Plans that will never quite work out the way I expected, but work out just the same. If you ever have been involved in butchering chickens, Spring in our world seems to be the definition of "running around like a chicken with their head cut off."

Chesterton was both right and wrong when he said, "True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and it is rare."

Love and Tolerance

 

 

Karlie Loves, Beulah Tolerates