Blessed are the peacemakers ...

I know, I know, it's been over two weeks since my last post. Hey, man, I've been busy!

Pictured above is Ryan, aka Max, a sweeter-than-honey 70-lb. Greyhound / Great Dane cross. You're not going to believe this, but a week ago Saturday night Ryan showed up at our back door looking very hungry. I put some food out for him, then a while later I saw him still out in the front yard, and remembering that it was supposed to get below freezing that night and the next, I couldn't stand to leave him out there, so Paul and I invited him in and he made himself right at home. We didn't know his name then, so we started calling him Max.

Even though he didn't have a collar we could tell right away that he had to have been someone's pet, because he was so gentle and sweet natured, plus he had been neutered. All the other dogs were already nestled in their beds (Buster, Matilda, Blue and Sophie in the breakfast nook and Trixie and Henry in the living room) so we made a bed for Max in our room by throwing an old blanket over the love seat. (When we took him to the vet on Tuesday, all the techs were laughing about the new Schmidt dog. They said it's like we have a big flashing sign that says Welcome, Stray Dogs).

By Sunday afternoon we had discovered Max knew Sit, Stay, Shake, Lie Down and Ball. He knew how to play fetch with a tennis ball, he ignored the cats, and whenever we would offer him a treat he would take it ever so gently from our fingers. What a great dog! I knew we had to try to find his owners, because surely they were missing him terribly.

One by one we let the other dogs except Henry out to meet Max, and he integrated perfectly into the pack. But here's where the story gets complicated, so bear with me.

Now. About Henry.

One morning several months ago, Henry all of a sudden, out of the blue, took an intense dislike to Buster. I mean, one second everyone is getting along fine, and the next Henry attacks Buster in a fury. We were flabbergasted, and it surprised Buster, for sure. Then Matilda came to Buster's aid and Trixie started barking her head off and it was just a whole chaotic thing.


We finally got Buster and Henry apart and into separate quarters with no bloodshed, thank goodness. But ever since then Henry would only tolerate Trixie and Matilda, but since Matilda and Buster can hardly stand to be apart from each other, Trixie has been Henry's only canine company (whenever she's not out playing with the others).

So for the last few months, we've kept Henry apart from the Buster family, letting the two factions take turns spending time out in the yard. Occasionally we would try re-integrating Henry back into the pack, but he wasn't one bit tolerant. And now he was even starting to get willful with us, not wanting to stick to the rules. Even growling at us. NOT acceptable.

And now that the weather is getting nicer, I said to Paul that it sure would be nice if everyone could just spend all day outside together. It would make things so much easier. Plus I hated that we had to keep room doors shut all the time to make sure Henry and Buster didn't see each other. It was getting so bad that we even laughingly talked about calling the Dog Whisperer to help us get things back to normal.

Then along came Max, the gentle giant.


As I was saying, Max quickly became part of our happy little pack, including Trixie. Everyone wrestling and playing chase, racing around the yard, taking naps together in a big pile. Everyone but Henry.

THEN, sometime Monday afternoon, on Max's 2nd day with us, I accidently left the door open when I went out into the yard and Henry comes racing out, teeth bared, barking his head off, heading toward Buster. Well, Max wasn't going to have that. Like lightning he was all over Henry, pinning him down on his back, baring his teeth, snarling and barking furiously in Henry's face. Henry didn't know what hit him. He was like, what the heck??!!! He ran back in the house with his tail between his legs, and Max let him run away and became the gentle giant again. It all happened so fast, I was just standing there with my mouth open. I went into the house to see if Henry was ok, and he was just sitting in the hall, staring at the back door.

A few hours later he acted like he wanted to go out again, so I put him on a leash and went out with him. He started to growl at Buster, but Max trotted over and growled at Henry and he immediately backed down. Then after a few minutes everyone relaxed and I let Henry off the leash. He just stood there with his tail down and one by one all the others came to him, wagging their tails and tentatively touching noses to Henry. Very gradually Henry's tail unwound and he started sniffing around the yard, ignoring all the other dogs.

After this, Henry was a changed dog. He didn't go after the other dogs any more, he was relaxed, and he was even humbly obedient with Paul and me. Amazing.

Over the next few days we talked about how to go about trying to find Max's owners. We decided that on the following Monday (today) we'd put an ad in the paper for week. And put flyers up at the veterinarians and shelters. And even though he's a great dog, we said if we can't find his owners we'll try to find him a good home, because we just can't have seven dogs. Nope. Six is the limit.

Well, Saturday afternoon while my parents were visiting, we heard a knock at the back door. It turned to be one of our down-the-road neighbors, Chris, who had helped us rescue Buster and Matilda last year. He said, "Hi! One of our dogs has been missing since last Saturday, and I think he's in your back yard!" Boy was I glad to see him!

Chris was on his motorcycle, so he went home to get his truck and 12-year-old son, and they were back within 5 minutes. We found out Max's name is really Ryan, and he was as happy to see his owners as they were to see him. It was a great reunion. So we said a fond good-bye to Max/Ryan after having him as a member of our family for one week.

Afterwards, I wondered if Henry would remain the same with Max/Ryan gone.

And so far, so good. Henry still humbly gives Buster a wide berth when they're out in the yard together, and Buster is very relaxed with Henry around. Henry and Trixie still get to come inside to sleep, but during the day they get to spend most of the time outside in the beautiful spring weather with all the others. Our household is one big happy, peaceful family once again.

Thanks to Max. I mean Ryan.

Missed Photo Op

OK. So I walk in the kitchen the other day and Henry is standing on the stove.

All four feet. On top of the stove. Licking out the frying pan.

Later on, when I told my husband about it, he said, "Did you get a picture? That would be great on your blog!"

I just looked at him.

Somehow, when I feel like I need a little break and I get up and go to the kitchen to freshen my coffee and get a muffin or maybe a bagel and the sight that greets me when I walk through the door is sixty pounds of bluetick coonhound on top of my stove licking out the frying pan, running to fetch the camera is not exactly the first thing that crosses my mind.

Although now that I think of it, that WOULD have been great on my blog.

So.

Here's the stove:




And here's the dog:


Use your imaginations.

Wouldn’t it be lovely?

Antique ©2008 Karen Mathison Schmidt
5x7 • acrylic on Gessobord
Sold • private collection, Poway, California

Here’s good ol’ Henry, our bluetick coonhound, engaged in his favorite activity, except for eating and playing.

Oh, and barking and chasing squirrels. And going through our neighbors’ garbage.

And oh yeah, rolling around in cow manure or anything else really stinky he can find out in the pasture. You can rest assured that he always has to have a bath after this last one, before he’s allowed to plop down in his favorite napping spot, above.

As far as the composition of this one is concerned, you may notice that I added a throw that wasn't in the original sketch, draped over the back of the sofa. After I started painting the picture, I realized it really needed something there to break up that big space, and to repeat the color of the rug in that opposite corner.

I think it’s pretty cool that as an artist I can create a blue throw out of thin air right where I need it in a painting. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do that in real life?

”Hmmm ... I think I’d like a little antique blue finished table right here in this corner, with an old lace tablecloth and a pitcher of hydrangea blossoms and wisteria on it.” Et voila! There it would be, right where you wanted it. Or better yet, "I think I'd like a chocolate éclair on a little antique china plate with yellow roses right here on my desk, to go along with my afternoon coffee.” And there it would be, right there next to your keyboard.

Yep. That would be nice.

Anyway, here are some close-up details of the painting:

Waiting for Gretchen

So a long-time friend calls me the other day and says there’s a beautiful little stray kitten/cat that just showed up at her apartment building a couple of weeks ago. She has been hanging around trying to get in my friend’s apartment, and my friend has been feeding this little cat, but trying not to get too attached, because both she and her brother, who shares the apartment with her, have a cat each already, and they really can’t take in another one. They’ve been asking around and putting up flyers with a picture, trying to find out if this little one belongs to anyone around their neighborhood, but no response.

So, bottom line is: my friend offered to pay for spaying and shots if we would adopt the cat. We have plenty of room, and our 3 spend a lot of their time outside anyway, so we said ok. This new little one is solid gray, and we’ve decided to call her Gretchen. She’ll be “going on a visit” to the vet tomorrow, and will stay there to recuperate until Saturday, when she’ll come out here to join our family.

I’ve been trying to prepare everyone (i.e., the canine and feline members of the family). Yeah, I told them this afternoon that they will be having a new little sister move in on Saturday.

Here are their comments:

Trixie: A new playmate!! um, how long till Saturday?

Annie: Oh, great.

Ray: A new chick? Awesome.

Bailey: I'm sorry, did you say something?

Henry: When are we gonna eat? Is it dinner time? I think it's dinner time. Hey, is that a milk bone under there?

One dog’s life.

800 Miles to Long Beach work in progress.

It’s occurred to me that I’ve never introduced Henry, our Bluetick Coonhound rescue, here in my blog. He’s the newest member of our little menagerie, but as it turns out, he’s probably the eldest.


Last year around Thankgiving, he showed up one Saturday while we were down here working at the house. He was literally nothing but skin and bones, painful to look at; I almost cried when I saw him. He had a wound on his right hindquarter and he stank to high heaven, so we covered the back seat of the car, coaxed him in and took him to our veterinarian to see if he could be saved. It turned out he had heartworms, but other than that nothing wrong with him except starvation ... because Paul and I were still in our apartment at the time, my parents graciously offered to let Henry stay in their back yard temporarily (even though they have three Australian shepherds of their own). It didn’t take him long to work his way up to “inside dog” – my Dad is a soft touch when it comes to canine family members!

The vet guessed Henry is about 10 years old, but he’s very high energy, which I learned is typical of the breed – a bit much for a quiet suburban neighborhood. Henry made a quick recovery and soon was jumping the fence on a regular basis. When we moved out here to the country in July, we brought him with us, and he’s doing great. There’s plenty of room for him to run for miles and miles to wear himself out, and he always returns home after his rounds and hangs out on the back porch most of the time.

Because Blueticks are born hunters, I was a little apprehensive about how he would behave around the cats, but he’s never tried to chase them or eat them. Actually, I think he’s kind of scared of them ... he gives them a wide berth when they’re around and when one of them is standing a little too close to the doorway he’ll wait until they move before he comes in. He steers clear of Dawson, the dachshund next door, too. Pretty funny.

He and Trixie are best buds; they love to play together outside and in the living room. When I take Trixie for our twice daily walk (on a leash, because she absolutely cannot be trusted not to run up to the highway and race with passing cars and trucks, or the train!) Henry trots right along with us, occasionally taking off through the pasture or the woods, baying at the top of his lungs, and usually returning to join us a little way down the road. At night he and Trixie sleep together in the living room, Trixie on her blanket on the sofa and Henry on his blanket on the loveseat.

Not a bad life for an old hound dog!