Make it go away now kthanxbai

Who wants me to list Pfeifer for adoption?

I do please.  Rightnow.

Whyever for, TWooie?

Cuz she gived me an owie and I almost died.  Make it go away now kthanxbai.

Oh TWooie.  Such a funny little beast.  I came home from work the other day and 6 dogs greeted me at the door instead of 7.  I counted them off through the doorway and realized we were missing one TWoo (ha ha.  one two).  Found him reclining on a puffy dog pillow with – no lie – one arm draped across his eyes.  “What’s up Scarlett?” is what I asked him.  He threw his head back further and wagged his Flambe™ in the sad way (half wag half wag half wag) and whimpered.

Oh clearly TWooie was dying.  Dying.  His life force was draining out of him before my very eyes, trickling down his forearm out of a puncture wound left by somedog who had clearly tired of his badassery at some point in the day and let him know it.  Probably Pfeifer is my guess, finally grown weary of being pursued around the house by the crotchety old landshark and not being allowed to have any fun.

Go away.  I HATE you.

 I guess this must be the first time TWooie’s ever really been hurt.  Or maybe he was just jealous about being left off of last week’s The Year Of The Pain Dogs list (don’t tell him, but he still hasn’t made the list).  Either way, the DRAMA of it all was pretty intense.  First of all, he was absolutely unable to walk.  Not a chance.  His injured limb was paralyzed and the rest of him was rapidly running out of power as well.  He so valiantly tried to hobble across the lawn to join the rest of us (and made Tweed’s limp virtually vanish in a side-by-side comparison) but the effort was just too great, and he collapsed in a heap-o-TWoo in the grass and cried.  He may even have wept actual tears.

It went on in this vein for the entire evening.  So on death’s door was TWooie that he couldn’t even get up for dinner – he could only bravely masticate that chicken to make The Food Lady happy when she carried it to him where he lay gasping out his last in his dog bed.  So weak was he that he couldn’t even stir when I vacuumed around him.  As he was not going to make it through the night, he dragged himself under the bed to save me the trauma of finding him dead on my pillow in the morning, and he moaned all.night.long.

Who thinks maybe TWooie was being a tad over-dramatic?

I do.

By morning, TWoo was fine.  He had a momentary set back the following evening when I changed his bandage and cleaned his wound, but he was cured (instantly and with some comedy) when I showed him the nail clippers.

However, my dreams of having The WooTWooThree have clearly been dashed.

So Miss Pfeifer is ready to find a home of her very own, sans TWooie.  She is an absolutely delightful little critter and TWoo not withstanding quite lovely with other dogs.  I did a home visit for another rescue group and brought her along to see how friendly their dog was, and she was great.  She can be a little irritating with the drivey ones and likes to chase them down when they are playing ball, but she calls off really easily.  She’s never had an accident in the house, sleeps in her crate without a peep (even puts herself in there when it’s getting close to bed time!) and comes every time she’s called, with total glee.  She’s snuggly and sweet, has never met a stranger, and other than the sheep thing, is perfect with everyone.  I am going to miss her a lot!

Am I missing?

It’s too bad, as she makes a nice bookend along with her doppelganger.

In other news, my step dad and I built a new hen house for the chickens.  By which I mean I designed it, and my stepdad did all the grunt work while I lounged around with a cocktail (not really – my mum and I fenced in the entire enclosure while stepdad built the house).

The result is a perfectly inoffensive A-Frame style hen house that fits all of my chickens and will keep them safe and dry all winter long.

Unlike the old hen house, this one has roosts for all.  And a skylight in the roof to let the dawn in, so the stupid rooster knows when to start yelling.

The back unhinges to I can get in there and clean it out, and collect eggs.  Eventually, the milk crates will be replaced with custom nest boxes, but we haven’t built those yet.

It’s also waiting for a dry spell so I can put the roofing tiles on over the roofing paper, but all in all I am quite pleased with how it turned out.  And the chickens are pleased with the yard, which more than twice the size of their old one, and has a giant woodchip pile in the middle of it for them to root through.

Tweed and I thank you for all your well wishes and insightful replies to my post last week.  I’ve thought it over carefully and decided that we’ll try the off-the-rack splint for the time being and see how it goes.  In part because in the last week or so, Tweed has been feeling a lot better and his limp has diminished quite a bit.  He still gets the owies when he does a sudden twist or sharp turn, but he’s using the bad leg regularly, and running around quite happily. If Tweed’s happy, so am I!

Also, this photo makes me happy:

I’ll be happy if you rehome Pfeifer.  Deal?

If you want to make TWooie’s day and give Pfeifer an awesome home, shoot me an email!

Comments

  1. Awesome chook house. It gives me an idea. Thanks for posting. ;-)

  2. This post made me laugh so loud! Thank you. I needed that this week. Twooie, you and your drama just crack me up! :)

  3. Love the TWoo drama! Glad Tweedles is feeling a bit better.

  4. Yay for Mr Tweed! And TWooie, I’m SO glad you have come back from the dead! ;-)

  5. The best thing at our henhouse is the nest boxes are built on the outside (accessed from the inside, of course, with a hinged roof flap so you can gather the eggs without going in the chook house.
    Pfeiffer is lovely. If I didn’t have sheep (and a dominant bitch) I would be seriously interested.

  6. Food Lady says:

    yes, the old henhouse has exterior nest boxes just like that; however, the design of this one does not allow for that as attaching them would interfere with the number of roosts inside and/or prevent me from opening the door to clean it. For a while they were laying their eggs underneath this house, which would be fine as it’s dry under there, but I don’t like crawling under it on my hands and knees to collect the eggs :)

  7. Dry spell? Hahahahaha! You mean April? LIke 2013? Will the tar paper hold out that long?
    Oh, Pfeifer sounds tempting, but we do not need another dog. Want! not equal need, Carol! Want!!!!! not equal should have, Carol. ARE YOU LISTENING, Carol????????

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