A Letter to PETA - about Pitbulls

A correspondence between PETA and a woman who had planned (that's past tense, thank goodness) to leave her fortune to them when she passed.

A Letter to PETA is a well-put answer to PETA's (imo) despicable treatment and villification of Pit Bulls and pitbull-like breeds.

Friends don't let friends support PETA.

NEW Pit Bull Links

Just added a page of Pit Bull Related links to our blog. If you know a website, rescue center, video news item or other positive pitbull related page that should be on our list, comment and let us know!

Quantum's Mom and Alzheimers

Thanks for taking a moment to find out about my mom. Over the last 10-12 weeks, she's been suddenly forgetting things even in mid-sentence. It's clear enough that this is some kind of mental deterioration, sadly not uncommon in folks her age (which is 86).

My wife and I moved to Colorado 2 years ago to build a new home away from the hurricanes and crime back in Florida. In the country outside this little town of 4,000 people.  As well as a place for my mom's latter years. I'm the only child, and I knew either I took care of her in her later years or nobody would.

Eight weeks after my wife and I moved here, we had an electrical fire that destroyed virtual every possession we had with us, which included all of our professional equipment, tools, and materials.  And there went our interim means of employment. (If you've been reading our blog, you probably know about fire.) Our only remaining resources all being tied up in our property in Colorado, and our old place back in Florida.

We've been renting the place through a management company for most of our monthly income, but these last couple months mom has been becoming confused, forgetful to an extreme, and afraid to even leave her condo back in Florida. She would get the rent check for our place mailed to her, then deposit it in our bank there in Florida. Our bank there is really good, and the ones here are lousy. But she's misplaced the rent check 2 months in a row, and now she's forgetting that she ever even received these checks. Which obviously really messed up our limited income. I've also received highly concerned emails from her financial advisor, and my 88 yr old aunt up in Montana, concerning mom's behavior and lack of communication.

Now, I need to fly back to Florida and sort out mom's affairs. And sell our property back there to pay for moving mom out with us. She is gonna need daily social contact and supervision, for her well being and health. She's been living alone for 2 years, and it's clearly not been good for her.

Herd Transitions

Sometimes things come along and make you readjust your attitude and your priorities. Ferdie's birth has been one of those. Not just for us, but for the yaks as well.

We've now spent two near-sleepless nights perking our ears for the stealthy approach of large critters. We live in cougar, bear and coyote territory, so that's not much of a surprise. Unfortunately, Ferdie has decided that her favorite space in the corral is right up against the edge of the fence, where she could be vulnerable. On the good side, the dogs are constantly alert for anything roaming in the night. Of course that includes racoons, possums and potentially mice. Welcome to being awakened at 2 a.m. Because the dogs smelled...something.

Quantum and I have spent the last two days with perma-grin. Watching Ferdie's antics has been...just blow-away. We are convinced that she is the cutest little animal since the gods first created cute little animals.

We spent the first dozen or so hours of her birth worried because she wasn't nursing. Within the first few hours, Zoozoo kicked (gently) at her. As a first time mommy heifer, she wasn't used to someone trying to nuzzle at her underparts. I'm sure her thoughts were something along the line of, "What the heck! That tickles." Just before Quantum was ready to go to the feed store next morning for colostrum formula, Zoozoo started letting her nurse without kicking her away. Gods, the relief!

The change in the herd dynamics has been profound. Before this, Yonkers was the undisputed Queen of the corral. Bitchy, defensive, and never having had a good relationship with humans, we've been challenged in dealing with her from the start. We got her at age nine, and it was clear that she'd never been tractable, and never liked people very much. We've got the impression that the folks we bought her from figured, "sell her to some schmuck or make her into hamburger." Her purpose, before we got her was breeding babies and more babies, without much care or interest in helping her to be gentle.

Quantum has done a world of work with her in the nearly two years that she's been ours. She went from, "approach at your peril" to a creature who though not easily handle-able was at least respectful when we entered the corral. And for the last 6 months she's been eating out of our hands, even though she will still charge the corral fence when I or strangers approach.

This winter when the girls escaped for the third time, Yonkers managed to put a huge gouge in our friend RY's butt. It wasn't her fault. He got tired of waiting for her to get in the trailer (he's impatient) and wacked her over the head with a metal pipe. So I thought Yonk was fully justified in turning around and burying one of her horns in his butt-cheek. Good thing he wasn't facing the other direction!

Knowing how nasty Yonkers can be, we thought we' d need to separate her from Zoozoo and the baby once it was born.

As part of her job as Corral Queen, Yonkers has the idea that her time should be spent convincing her two daughters that humans are evil and not to be trusted. However her yak-mommy instincts turned against her in a way. It's the natural instinct of most mommy animals to wean their older children in favor of their younger babies. That meant that Yazoo (the older daughter) was getting chased from the hay piles and the water bucket on a regular basis. Which left our Zoozoo open to the wiles of my husband, who would make sure that Zoo had her own special pile of hay when Yonkers tried to chase her away from the food. Despite that ZooZoo has been told by Momma that humans were evil, it was humans who were making sure she had enough to eat.

Meanwhile 2-yr old Yeti is just on the verge of being weaned. I saw her nursing only a few months ago, and that might still be going on when I'm not looking. Yeti has taken up her Mom's stance of "people are scary" and doesn't let us touch her.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, that all changed.

Within moments of Ferdie's birth, Zoozoo, who had been somewhat "on the fence" regarding human involvement in her life, has come a bare step away from total acceptance. We are both (and the both part is a surprise, since she likes Quantum a heck of a lot more than she likes me) allowed to touch and handle the baby, get in the corral and push the baby towards her. In fact, when baby Ferdie gets herself somewhere between the wood and the electric wiring (now turned off) of the corral, I get the feeling that she's actually happy that someone is there and ready to push her baby towards her.

Yeti has gone from shy sibling to doting aunt. She's fascinated by anything the baby does and posts herself in guard position near baby Ferdie.

But the biggest change has been with Yonkers. Suddenly she doesn't act like she's the biggest and most important yak in the corral. After a few times of pushing off Ferdie (who wanted to nurse and couldn't figure out who to turn to for that) Yonkers is now quietly following the other yaks around.

And being pleasant and gentle to the point where Quantum has crawled into the yak pen stark naked (hey it's hot here!) without the slightest worry or challenge to his various man-parts.

Less than 24 hours from the miracle birth of our grandbaby, and it's somehow changed the herd dynamics to allow us to be accepted.

It's a Baby Yak!

Ferdie

Born 7/2/2012 7:14pm

OMG it's happening!

We're trying to relax after a rough day in town and car breakdowns. I look over at Yazoo and notice that she's at the far side of the corral, lying flat on the ground in a rather unusual way. The baby bump is getting bigger every day.

"I think it's going to be soon," I tell Quantum. "Maybe in the next couple days." The other two girls are chowing down and I figure I should bring her some hay of her own. Yonkers chases her away from the food sometimes.

Just as I get back inside, Quantum looks out the window. "Oh my god! It's happening! It's happening NOW!"

Zoozoo (that's still Yazoo - our pet name for her) has her tail up and there's a pink bubble forming there.

I run for the camera. (Thanks again, Mom!) "Her water broke," Quantum says.

Absolute terror sets into both of our hearts. Neither of us has ever helped a critter give birth. We're miles from the nearest large animal vet, miles from town, and we're not even sure the truck will run. It had vapor-lock before, and we barely made it home. Besides that, even though Zoozoo has become relatively accepting of Quantum (and me to a lesser degree) we doubt she'll let us help if she needs it. She doesn't like to be touched. We've read that yaks are easy birthers, but as first time grandparents, we're trembling.

Yonkers and Yeti are curious, but Zoozoo makes it clear that she wants to be left alone, so Quantum climbs into the corral and keeps them away from her.

We watch, helpless, as Zoozoo grunts and strains and the bubble gets bigger and bigger. We can see tiny white hooves inside the veil of the birth sack. And then it slips out, landing on the ground, a tiny, motionless form of black and white.

Moments after birth.

"It's alive! It's breathing!" Quantum says. Both of us slump with relief.

Zoozoo starts licking the baby and eating the birth sack away. It's already clear she's going to be a doting mother. We watch, enthralled, as the baby makes several attempts to get to her (at least it might be a her, we're still not positive) feet.

"You can do it, Ferdie," Quantum says.

This morning. 10 hours old.

"You do realize that whether it's a boy or a girl, that's it's name." I say

He smiles over at me, his face alight.

We'd actually hoped for a bull-calf, because we had considered studding him out. We'd like to get the local ranchers interested in cow-yak hybrids. So if it was a boy, we planned on naming it Ferdinand. We hadn't picked a girl name yet.

It's so tiny and perfect and fragile. We don't care what its sex is. We're already deeply in love.Zoozoo keeps licking away and Ferdie struggles to rise and plops back down in the dirt several times.

Then she's up, tottering on the very tips of her hooves. She can't seem to figure out how to use them yet. She falls down again then finally rises and take a few wobbly steps forward. Straight towards me. Zoozoo stands alongside her, but doesn't protest Ferdie's interest in me.

Still a little wobbly.

I put my hand through the fence and she comes over to me, her pink nose just inches from my hand. She sniffs and gives a little baby yak grunt.

The two of us are stuck halfway between laughter and tears.

The other yaks are very curious, especially Yeti, but Quantum and Zoozoo make sure they keep their distance.

We're surprised by her coloring. Both of her parents are black Imperials with a white patch on their foreheads and white socks. Ferdie is a Royal, like her grandfather Sherpa, black in the front, white in the back, with spots and patches, here and there, white legs and a wide blaze down her nose.

We go inside, and let them be, feeling high and exhausted. It's going to be a long night, because neither of us are going to get much sleep, especially with the coyotes living so close.

Our “Vicious” Pit Bulls Get Visitors

So my Mom, Aunt K, Aunt D and Uncle J came to visit.

The first day was a little challenging because to get to our land, folks (with normal cars) need to dump their cars far down the road and ride in our truck. Which would have been fine if our Blazer (which can easily carry our crowd) hadn't dropped dead. Instead, we had to use the pickup. Me, Quantum and 4 other adults plus two decent sized pits. Can we say crowded?

We let the dogs run alongside the truck. There was just no way to fit everyone in. Besides it was only 2 miles on a dirt road with no traffic other than us. I was worried they'd run off and get in trouble, but nope, they followed the truck with no problem. By the time we were 3/4 of the way there, I could see Zen tiring. (Black dog on a hot day.) Bushi, on the other hand was darting off to explore things (flushed birds, squirrels and rabbits) and circling back to the truck. She didn't even look like she was breaking a sweat.

It was great! By the time we got home, the dogs were nicely tuckered out and we didn't have to worry about the dogs being so “bunctious” that they'd misbehave. They don't mean to be bratty, but we don't get many visitors out here, and both of them usually get keyed up when someone comes out here, and they often want to jump. (And the challenge is that we don't get enough visitors to effectively train them not to jump.) Plus Zen hasn't figured out that he isn't a lap dog, and thinks that EVERYBODY wants kisses.

Then, a day or two ago, Aunt K decided she wanted to take a walk in the woods. She asked Quantum if Zen could come along (seemed like he wanted to) and he said sure.

Zen has been growing out of his boisterousness slowly. As a puppy he was rather much of a brat at times, and NEVER calm and relaxed when friends came over.

Understand too, that Zen has only recently started following me around. Oh of course, when we were in the house, he wanted to be near us. But outside? In the past he was just so thrilled to be outside and off leash (since he grew up in a condo and couldn't run wild) that if the two of us were outside together, it was unpredictable whether he'd stay near me or not. He might follow me for a while but going off exploring was what he considered fun.

Part of that's our fault. For the first 9 months we were here, I'd only let him outside if we had him on a leash. Even here in the middle of nowhere. Rattlesnakes were my primary fear, but (knock on wood) we haven't seen any yet, and when we got Bushi last year we finally started getting up the bravery to let the two of them run together.

A couple months ago he totally changed his tune about this. Any time I walk out the door now, he has to be next to me. Three years old and his “guard mode” has kicked in with a vengeance. What I really didn't expect was that this would transfer over to other people.

Well not only did he follow Aunt K up the mountain, he stayed within a few yards of her, and when he finally gave her the signal that he really wanted to go home (and wise woman that she is, she got it) he'd run a few yards ahead then come back and wait for her. She could tell that he really wanted to be back at the house, but he wasn't willing to leave her alone.

The Aunts and Uncle have gone home (wish they could have stayed longer!) however Mom's still here. Rather than staying in a hotel alone, Mom decided she'd stay in our ex-roommie's trailer. That means no running water and all the attendant challenges. She's a rugged woman!

Quantum walked her over to the trailer, and Zen followed. And stood in front of her trailer. Quantum called him back towards our own trailer and Zen came to him then walked back to stand in front of the trailer Mom was in. It took him a good fifteen minutes to decide she was safe until he came back to us.

Today he's been following her all over the place as she wanders around our property. He stays about a half step behind her, and has only come in when she does, or when (as right now) she's sitting in the shade reading a book and he's decided she's safe for now. (And it's afternoon now, and way hot for a black dog, again.)

Bushi's always been more independent. Growing up as a stray dog means she loves to be outside and loves to roam. She's happy when she's inside with us, but she likes her alone time. She was also walking with Mom, though she'd take off from time to time. And Bushi is nearly always super good and obedient, so forgive me if I'm talking about Zen (my problem child) being good more than her.

What I noticed is that the two of them were taking turns. When Zen got too hot, or wanted to check something out, Bushi would stay with Mom, and vice versa.

I've always known that pit bulls were called “the Nanny Dog”. Now I get why. Having decided that she is for some reason his “charge” Zen is totally devoted to her. We never trained him for this. He just figured it out on his own, and Quant and I are proud as heck to be his parents.

So our first experiment with having visitors is a resounding success. I'm thrilled. We have good dogs. We always knew it, but now it's been proven. Yep, our “vicious pit bulls” immediately welcomed people into the pack and not only were polite, but made it their job to ensure that the new members of their pack were safe and watched over.

The Week the Generator Died 3

Now it's Monday. Last night we were actually warm and comfortable. But we still need to get out and get the generator going and/or get the truck going. Quantum talks me into going to M's to call CK. Once we get an ETA on CK arriving with supplies, Quantum will go out to the road and meet him to drag the stuff back.

We put together a minimal list of what we need. Something that won't tax CK's energy or brain - it is CK after all!  A new battery. (Quant's a little ticked that instead of getting us a new one as he requested on Saturday, RY gave us one that he had around (allegedly charging) and seemingly not up to the job.) A box of wooden matches. (We need them to start the cook stove and the propane heater M lent us. We have about 3 matches left.) A plastic or metal snow skid. (Something like a kid's toy sled, to carry things. Quant saw them in the Dollar Store the other day, right up front and real cheap, but didn't think to buy one. Quantum realizes there's no way he can carry another battery across the local tundra without a sled.) A package of tube socks. (At this point all our socks are soaking wet.) If possible, a bale of hay. The yaks are nearly out, though we have a tiny bit of grain they're still eating. (We've had a deal with RY for quite some time, and have been buying hay from him in advance. At the moment he owes us about $200-500 worth of hay. Why Quant didn't get 5 or more bales when he was last in town is beyond me.)

Quant already has an idea that RY is miffed (the fact that RY didn't check up on us after the cop/ambulance fiasco is a small clue) and figures it'd be easier just dealing with CK. There's a local guy who does taxi service and Quant figures if CK can hire him for the ride it'll be easier than asking RY to drive him. "But if," Quantum says, as I'm heading out, "RY will drive him out, then he can probably grab the bale of hay."

I slog over to M's again. Naturally the phone wants to mess me around and I'm having trouble extracting CK's phone number from it. I finally get through to him and he says he'll call me back in 10 minutes to confirm when he can make it there.

Now lest you think I'm being overly presumptive with RY or CK, understand this: 1) Yes, I realize these are kind favors that you shouldn't ask anyone unless you're desperate. 2) Yes, by now we're desperate. 3) Despite the fact that CK and I don't get along worth a darn, CK and Quantum are basically like brothers. They lived together for more than a decade before Quant and I even met. For that matter, despite the fact that CK and I don't get along well when we live together, we still love each other. I've ferried his ass to Chemo for months on end, and spent long nights at his bedside back when he had leukemia. We're family even if we don't always like it. 4) Over the past few months RY has borrowed a crapload of money from Quantum. In fact I only found out how much it added up to this week. Certainly enough to allow Quant to feel that he could ask for a favor of this nature.

So I hang out with M for a while and wait for CK to call back. He doesn't call back. I call him again and he says, "RY and Sue just got home, I'll call you back." I get a sinking feeling in my stomach again. From the tone of his voice, something is wrong.

Now I should probably say something about Sue. I love her to death but she's challenging. She's in her 70's (I was astonished when I learned that RY her hubby is 6 months younger than my 48!) and rules the place with an iron fist. She's a super-heavy born again Christian (I don't have a problem with Christians - Quantum is even semi-Christian - but she's the wacky fundie kind. Pretty much nobody at her house does anything without her say-so. Which is a problem because her say-so varies to her moods, which are up, down, red and purple. She's in early-mid stage Alzheimers. She MAY also have cancer. So some of the moody shit that happens may be folks reacting to her. Or reacting to the exhaustion that happens with dealing with her every day. Or it may totally have nothing to do with her.

Anyhow. a few minutes later I get a call from RY and he's fuming. "I'm only doing this because I love you like a brother," he says. "Ummm...what are you upset about RY?" Naturally he points to the other night with the cop. I've "embarassed" him somehow. "I swear, RY, he was vomiting, he was sick and yes, he seemed to be passing out. Quantum will swear he wasn't but that's not what I observed. I told you he wouldn't leave the house and we just needed some way of getting heat started."

 He'll meet Quant in an hour with a new battery. Okay fine. "Tell him to bring me my battery back," he says. "Look, RY, I told you, Quant nearly passed out trying to carry that battery over to our place. He doesn't have a way to carry it back, and I'm afraid he'd kill himself if he tried. That's why we want CK to get us a sled." We say a few more things and then he repeats "Tell Quant to bring my battery back."

Wha? "I told you. He can't carry it. It's not happening." Once again I don't think he hears a word I'm saying. No go. Not happening. Quantum is not dragging that thing across the snow without a sled.

I get home, Quantum goes out. An hour or two later Quantum returns. And he's highly ticked. "They went out and got the cheapest-ass battery they could find," he says. "But I told CK to get the right battery for the truck," I say. And seeing that we already know a charge is the problem, and CK does come from a cold weather place, he should know that the teeniest battery isn't going to have the cranking power to get the truck going. On top of that, no sled, no matches, no socks, and worst, no hay. The yaks still have a few crumbs of oats, but they are not happy.

At this point more of the story comes out. Unbeknowst to me, RY has borrowed nearly a thousand dollars from Quantum over the past few months. That doesn't even include the money we've given him towards hay. That may not be a lot of money, but for us it's quite a bit - if we had it we could have fixed the truck, bought a new generator, etc. For RY it's probably even a harder number. Now I really hope it isn't the deal, but I've been in situations before where people borrow money and then pick a fight so they don't have to pay you back.  I think this is why my grandparents became communists. *Giant sigh.* I really don't want to lose a friendship over this garbage.

Monday night the propane runs out in the heater. An entire cannister of gas has lasted us only about 30 hours. So much for the high efficiency boasted of on the packaging. We spend another night huddled together under the blankets, cramped and freezing.

Tuesday. Quantum gets M to give him a ride into town. He buys yet another battery, another canister of propane, a replacement propane heater (just like the one M lent us but smaller and hopefully more efficient) and a few small supplies. Not hay though. He gets a $8 plastic sled to drag the stuff back. Despite CK's avowal that he couldn't find them, the sleds were right in front of the Dollar Store. I somehow doubt CK even tried looking.

Wednesday. Once again we struggle to figure out what to do. Truck, no. Generator, no. Battery, no. Nothing is working.

We have a friend who is an electrician, but...gods, he's a friend we know through RY. And RY recently had a fall out with him. And RY seeems to hate us now. So how do we ask for his number? Naturally we don't know his last name even.

We realize that the other day I'd been talking to a friend and she mentioned Mercury was in retrograde. If you don't know, Mercury is the planet that rules communication and short-term travel. Both of those are screwed for us. According to astrology, when Mercury is in retrograde, those things screw up. We laugh. And shudder.

Thursday. I slog over to M's again and return his propane heater. This time we're going to get a tow truck to jump start our car. Can we afford it? Not really. Do we seem to have a choice? Not really. As I'm waiting at the bottom of M's driveway for the tow guy to come, I hear a woman's voice. "I ran the car off the road," she says. "It skidded on the ice." She's talking to someone on a cell phone. Now I'm not a big woman and I don't know how much strength I'll have to help someone get back on the road, but I feel incumbent to at least try helping. My legs and back are screaming, but I hike up the road, towards the sounds. Funny as heck, it's G, M's wife. He actually makes it down the driveway to her before I do. Well, at least I tried.

The tow truck guy comes. Except he doesn't have a tow truck, just a small pickup. He takes me home. I'm amazed his truck makes it up our road. On the way we see a huge elk bounding through the woods. He stays much longer than I'd thought and keeps trying to help get the truck started. The battery is drained, yes, but he and Quantum also discover that the negative terminal to the battery is cracked - part of the problem. Also something's wrong with the fuel line. And maybe the starter. The bill is only $83. Which is a lot for what we can afford, but totally reasonable for his time. He doesn't have the parts or knowledge to fix the situation but says he'll bring out a friend tomorrow if we wish.

Friday. Well we wish we can get him to bring out a friend to fix our car, but first we need to check our bank balance which we're sure is low. Quantum walks back to M's but M looks busy and can't give him a ride into town to check our balance or do desperately needed shopping. The yaks are now completely out of hay and Yeti spent the night tossing the now empty barrel that held the oats. The local taxi guy doesn't want to drive out. Finally Quantum calls P, the tow guy and offers to pay him to take Quant shopping. Just before dusk Quantum returns with yet more propane and some more supplies. Matches! Yay! Dog and cat crunchies (they were almost out of food too)! Hay! Hurrah! No more ticked off yaks!

Today was Saturday. P the tow guy was supposed to come out with his mechanic buddy around 2, but they never showed. Finally Quantum "remembered" something I'd suggested several days ago that got dismissed.

Or previous truck is a Blazer that's sitting in our driveway. Last May we were driving home and the darn thing threw a wheel. Like the wheel actually FELL off. Something with the front end cracked. But it was the wheel that failed, not the motor. Two days ago Quantum actually tried opening the motor, but the rod that opens the hood was broken. Today however, he tried again. The hood opened. Anything could have gone wrong with the motor by now. The gas in the tank could have been bad. The radiator could have frozen. The engine could have frozen.

But no. The baby started right up! Right now I'm typing thanks to energy powered by it attached to the inverter. Because of that we may be able to get our electrician buddy and the mechanic over tomorrow.

Please, I hope this saga is nearly over.