You Have Not Lived (the full country experience) Until ...

     One of your dogs ...
     Gets sprayed by a skunk.

     While this is definitely not my first rodeo, it is (by far) my WORST ...
     (That it takes place at 2AM only exacerbates the wound.)

     For the record, Pyrenees, world renown for protecting goats, sheep and wounded creatures everywhere a la St. Francis, would normally think nothing of having a cat in their mix. And at least 4 of my 5 do consider our cats family.

     But isn't it so life?

     There's always that one ...

     Rosebud (my wild child Pryenees) hates cats.

     What this means for us around here is that Boo, never knowing for sure which big white dog might make the occasional indoor visit, keeps an eye out. No biggie.
     The outside (so called feral) cats, are on super high alert now that wiley coyote here has found (more likely "created") a hole in the fence ...a hole I thought I had found/fixed/resolved; clearly I was mistaken.
     To her credit, Rosebud's very smart, and has (all by herself) figured out:
                           "Inside=AC -- Outside=Barn floor...Is this a trick question?"
While placating me come meal time, she has for the past two nights, shown up at my door when she's had enough...(leaving Hix and TJ at the gate ...blank stares and some version of "Dang. How'd she do that?" popping like a cartoon bubble over their big ol doggie heads)

     Until fence dude makes it this weekend,  it was easier just let her in...my thinking being -- if a dog is this smart, she deserves a little A/C for a day or a night...
     That was my thinking ...
                                                until last night.

     Hunkered down for the night, we were bolted from our sleep when Rosebud, out of nowhere, commences to barking (inside the house--just to be clear). With outside dogs prompting (or following ... hard to say) this leads me to conclude: "Must be a coyote, otherwise, why would she risk her cushy comforts after all this effort?"
   
     I stumble downstairs to let her do what we have Pyrs here to do in the first place, which is to say "Go Rosebud go. Protect your charge. Run that critter off."

     Five minutes later, after hearing an ever so slight skirmish (nothing huge) ~ I conclude: mission accomplished...  I open the door to let her back in...

     Only to find .......

                           OH DEAR LORD ROSEBUD ....WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??

                                               ~~~~~~~~WHEEEEEEWWW~~~~~~~

     Looking up at me with eyes swollen (rims, totally pink) and a stench that could knock down Manhattan,  she left me no choice: I quickly shut the door. Heading downstairs water bucket in tow, I open the garage door to a dog of mixed emotional facial expressions~ (Good news: Hey Mom~ Ran it off! Bad news~ Didn't win.)

     Rosebud sashays into the garage and with head hung low, she circles twice and plops~thoroughly understanding why she won't be in the big house tonight.

     I wash up/wrap up and make my way back to bed (now 3 am) when, thump! I feel a pounce. I flip on the light to find Roz (Rosebud's daughter...now 80 pounds herself, thankyouverymuch)...with her nose squarely positioned under my pillow as if to say, "First floor --too close to basement! You mind?"

     While not our habit to let dogs sleep on beds, I was too tired (and quite frankly too tickled) to care. I flip off the light, pet my therapeutically-inclined canine and say, "We'll deal with it tomorrow Roz...But she is still your mama."


     For the record, today's no better. Not enough tomato juice on the planet...Gonna have to ride this one out~

     Here's praying your weekend brings a lovelier bouquet ~

Rosebud wakes to greet the day... Hope springs eternal...
(for her at least...for the rest of us, jury's still out~)

Thank you Mr. Fence Dude for showing up early.

Got 4 More Just Like Her Back Home!

   
   

     To say the least, Roz is a show stopper...
     Take a big white dog sporting a bright pink vest down any hallway and in no time she's holding court, working to both protect total strangers (who don't know they're being herded) while learning to allow them to mussy-up her face in her "Pet Me I'm A Therapy Dog" career move...

     But the funniest (and most consistent) response is when we pull out the phone to start bragging on the others...

     Number 1 question asked:
     "What kind of dog IS she?"
    (Answer: Great Pyrenees)
     Second question: "How much does she weigh?" (Answer: 75 pounds as of her last vet visit; she's gained at least 5 since we've been here...)

     But the eyes really pop open when I say "But she's just a puppy...Just 8 months old...she's FAR from full grown~"

     And in our never-ending efforts to educate the world on matters of Pyrenees dogs with goat-herding talents while introducing one that leapt off the farm to start her own career as a therapy dog, we can't help but laugh
                                                     ..........at Hix's big head!

(Seen here the day I left...Don't you KNOW these Shepherd people are grateful I didn't tote him in for training!)

     Nope. Some things are best left alone...
     Like Hix...back on the farm with the kids ...
     (After all, somebody's gotta watch out for those wiley coyotes!)

A Different Kind of Summer

   

      So the garden's not going to be what it was last year...But I'm happy to report I did make it back in time to enjoy my first fried green tomato of the season. On top of this my lavender (started last year) is triple what it was and the babies back home welcomed Roz and me with slurps and wags for our brief visit home. (They were a bit jealous of Roz at first, but she has now acclimated quite nicely and is enjoying just being a puppy for a few days. Everybody needs a breather...)
     My brother's progress is steady...No doubt, a long road ahead... But with each passing day we count our blessings and marvel at the new places, people and experiences that life's little curveballs have brought into our world ...
     Speaking of which, amidst walking the halls of Shepherd and meeting new people as she sports her classy pink therapy vest, Roz has become my focus, not only as we learn the ropes of therapy training, but as we talk with others likewise interested in knowing more about the benefits of therapy dogs (such as soldiers returning with PTSD, our new area of intense interest).

     In addition to the amazing folks at Shepherd Center, we have also met trainers and researchers alike in areas of both service and therapy training and are scarfing up every informational/educational morsel we can to continue not only training Roz in this field, but other dogs as well.

     As an aside, I just finished reading (and highly recommend) How Dogs Love Us by neuroscientist Gregory Berns (at Emory, no less...what are the odds?) His research of the canine brain is a must read for anyone who loves dogs...That he did it using a functioning MRI, (which is to say, he trained his dog to lie perfectly still in that tube of a machine long enough to photograph her brain) was as impressive as the research itself. (Roz hopes to meet Callie someday...She's our hero.)  

Hilarious or Pathetic--You Decide

     Lest this blog become all wheelchairs/all the time, I thought you might like an update on the world back at home as I remember it, because in truth, I could not be here were it not for the friends and neighbors who moved in like a swat team so that I could be here with my brother as he goes through rehab for his spinal cord injury...
     Never was a point more driven home than last night when I received this picture on my phone just about the time I was taking Roz for her last evening stroll...

     <----In case you can't tell, it's Hix (brother of Rosebud, uncle of Roz)...sitting high atop a couple of nailed-together worker staircases, once used by builders completing my barn loft, (and later removed and reassembled as a goat playground...thanks to Builder Eric who spotted: "Hey, I bet the kids'll love this!" (thus hammering two ratty-tatty sets of worker steps together as a climbing euphoria for my 18 pygmy kids) Leave it do Digital Dave to snap the pic end of week as Hix surveys his kingdom. (Clearly Hix ain't sharing his thrown with no stinkin' goats.)

     [For the record, people stop to pet Roz non-stop throughout the day here in Atlanta, whether we're in dog parks, restaurants or hospital corridors. Those very same people marvel when I tell them  a) she's only a puppy (7 months old),  hence half the size she's gonna be and b) we got 4 more just like her back home...First of many "hilarious or pathetic" options...We'll let you decide...]

     Funnier yet...our same Saturday night, with Roz as my dinner date...(she, having scarfed a bowl of puppy chow, me, sharing my pizza with the security guard who let our delivery driver in)--Ed's wife Kim had arrived earlier in the day, leaving me with a happy brother and a mutt to share my evening with...the ultimate girl's night in!) My last "to do" before pulling out the monkey jams and slathering a mud mask on my face while curling up to a mindless Lifetime Original) was to head out one last time with Roz, to the corner lot where they leave pink baggies for your doggie's poo...

     The night is still young....a perfect sunset (they come later here). The sky was this hazy, pastel pallet of pinks and blues. As it turns out, Roz was in no mood for pooping (no good way to paint that picture...sometimes she's in the zone...other times not...This time, there was too much to distract her...from trains on trestles, trafficky street noises and a karaoke bar just across the way...)
     I check in with home, prompted by the hilarious Hix picture on my phone...just as Roz decides to become part of the perfectly manicured horticulture surrounding the statue in front of our rehab place. "No Roz...Not there!" I'm whispering loud enough for fellow passersby to laugh...(She's not pooping, mind you...She's plopped herself smack dab in a sea of ground cover and begins to wallow as if swimming...Something about the ivy tickling her butt, I guess...Now I'm tickled.)
     "You gotta see this dog" I say to the other end of the line. (Being inept at the techy stuff, my counter, staying with Rosebud (Roz's mama) et al, will have to FaceTime me, lest we get disconnected.)
     As I reverse the camera, so Rosebud can see what her silly girl is doing, Rosebud (on her end of the line) flips upside down and sideways, (I guess thinking belly rubs come with the voice...how to do that via phone lines, we're still working on) ... A second couple passes by.... (Are you getting this picture? It's not me doing FaceTime...It's Rosebud and Roz...one wallowing, one belly up... The humans holding the phones, are the pathetic idiots here..albeit it, laughing ones)
     Hilarious or pathetic? Will let you decide...As for me and my fam, thank God for technology...And thank God for people who are as nuts about animals as I am....Though perhaps not as good as a real-time hug, "I'll hug mine on this end...You hug all the rest..." is our last communique with the family back home.
     Another day in paradise...(be it farm...be it rehab center)
     We do what we do... The conversation may be virtual, but the love is for real and streaming in spades as are the tears of laughter rolling down my face...
                                 To the right----->
is Roz, after her walk and before final goodnights.  (The duties never end.) Ever ready for the hugging, she scarfs up her Aunt Kim's hugs just before calling it a day/a week. (Everybody needs a battery recharge. Pretty sure that's why God made dogs...and the hilarious/pathetic people like us who are nuts about 'em...)
   
   

Life's Curveballs

   

     No sooner do I commit to resuming the blog, do I find myself committing to 2 blogs...One for life as I'm living it (NOT on the farm, as anticipated); one as my brother undergoes rehab for a spinal cord injury that happened 4 weeks ago...(As a friend pointed out yesterday, "Time flies whether we're having fun or not!") Fortunately, while I would not call this "fun" per se, it is engaging ...requiring of us a new level of focus, so to me, living life fully is a worthy aspiration.
     In a nutshell, I got the tomatoes, peas and peppers planted. And then I got a call. (Came as a bunch of texts first; you never want to wake up to that many messages as a certain foreboding comes over you in an instant that "No one's texting me at 3 in the morning with good news.")
     In fact, the news wasn't good, but it could've been worse. Amazing how in an instant, your ways of prioritizing things can get instantly rearranged.
     My brother was in an automobile accident. (This I have written about; we're keeping a CaringBridge page for him, so if you know him and care to follow the more technical side of his rehab journey feel free to bookmark it; it's at https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/edevins) As for me (and in large part, Roz) we'll be sticking to the karlensgarden blog here as how this plays out is becoming a garden unto itself, albeit a different kind of garden for sure.
     For sure life CAN change on a dime. And best I can tell, you can either spazz over it, or you can roll... In this case, we're rolling. (In Ed's case, we're literally rolling as wheelchairs have become a big part of where we're living now, but you can read about that on his page.)
     Once past the trauma of it all, we were encouraged to come to this place called Shepherd Center...one of the nation's leading spinal cord injury rehab facilities, located in Atlanta, GA. My brother (full confession here)... preferred Nashville, as seeing his friends and family on a regular basis he felt would keep his spirits higher than moving 4 hours away where drop ins would not be quite as frequent. (Smart of him to know what lifts him up; meanwhile, everyone, and I do mean EVERYone handling his case back at Vandy said "For the most thorough rehab in your specific situation, Shepherd's is the recommendation.")
     Given the company factor was a big consideration, I offered freely "I'll go!" not knowing in that instant just HOW I'd go or who'd take care of things...but I knew having someone there with him in the early stages in particular, was going to be key, so in my "Commit now/Figure it out later" style I was (and am) happy to be here, though I must say, first time off the farm in 5 years, it's been a bit of a culture shock.
     This is my version of seek ye first the kingdom (not to spin scripture on you) but I'm convinced that if we start with what we feel in our hearts is the highest and most giving thing to do, the rest will be added unto...taken care of by our creator. It's worked for me this far in life. Why stop believing now?
     That said, as with gardens, so with life and in particular, the curveballs such as that we're living today: it takes a village. Not only does Ed have a beautiful support network of family and friends pulling him through, but my own is making this possible for me, so many thanks are due all the way around, both directly and indirectly.  In short, we are both living in a state of perpetual gratitude these days. I'm finding it helps.

     Next blog: The Roz Report. (Learning to play with others that don't look a thing like her (as she is used to back home)...well, that's been a learning curve unto itself... Pictured above is Roz...at the local dog park...n o t  q u i e t sure she's game for playing with Ludwig, the German Shepherd she just met... ("Think I'll just stand up here on the picnic table above the fray," says Roz.) At this stage, she's more familiar with people than dogs, but this too, is a learning curve and a big part of her therapy training.
     Meanwhile, if one of us is stepping out of his comfort zone, we're ALL gonna step out our comfort zones, after all, we're in this together. And as we all know, nothing new gets learned in the comfort zone.

And Then There Was Roz

   

     So lest you tire of all this talk of tubes and toilet habits...liquids coming and going...figure if I'm gonna write a blog called Karlen's Garden it seems a good time to get back to "how this all affects the care-takers" and "wonder just what happens when you watch someone you love's life turn on a dime, which makes you scramble not just to BE there, but be there constantly, consistently, forever uplifting, positive, supportive...
    (This blog is not about me, btw... It's about my sweet Roz.)
     For starters, Roz, (along with my other 4 Pyrs, 18 goats, and 3 cats)...has been amazingly patient...amazingly supportive. Somedays lunch is breakfast. Somedays breakfast is dinner. Somedays, (always fresh water) but no sign of "When she's coming back next?" then suddenly "poof"... oodles of hugs...(Thank you God for making them so unconditional...)
     But Roz -- is my topic of conversation today. And lest this come across as my one snarky post, well, my heart's in the right place. I just find it ironic the rules as we're told them.
     Herein lies the story:
     So my brother, ("Thank You Ed") gets to leave in the next 48 -72 hours for the next chapter of this journey (namely rehab at a place in Atlanta, which shall remain nameless, but they say it's the best in the country).  Known not only for helping those dealing in life-changing injuries, (and specializing in spinal) they also boast encouragement of the support networks (meaning family members)...Though the support network of the support network...? Well...maybe...not so much.
     I begin by saying, I know there are rules. And asking if I might bring Roz (now a registered therapy dog, btw) to be there a) for me (I confess, she's my family representative and being gone from all my family above, I inhaled great energy thinking of Roz making the trek) b) for my brother, (who will, spend time in a wheelchair, if not for therapy alone...wheelchairs being the next round of service training for a Pyr like Roz, aiming for her own great heights to be representative of the breed now highly recommended for returning vets. It's a no-brainer, right? My brother's in rehab; I'll be by his side, but only for the 5 hours a day that they let me...The other 19 ...(when normally I'd be putting out a garden or a cookbook or tending to goats or building a barn), I began making plans to take Roz in for training...(There's a great organization just miles up the road who trains all sorts of breeds for all sorts of things; in short, Roz and I would spend our time in school until available for Ed, where we hoped (wishful thinking) maybe she could practice her skills with the uncle she knows and loves...No brainer, right?)
     But no, no...nay, nay...
     Despite what the website says about the value of canine companions...
          Despite the plethora of people hugging dogs in official looking vests (which Roz now has)
               Despite their own statistic of 87% of participants here benefit from canine therapy...
Don't ask to bring in your own...that might want to learn as her family learns...That might have a mom wanting to work with her while her own brother is working on the very same things in the very same area. The rules say no. No room in the inn...(kinda ironic, now that I think about it given Roz's last 5 months spent volunteering with homeless)

     To be sure, this journey began with my brother...and my focus is seeing him through.
     But as everyone tells me, I'm only as good as my own ability not to 'give out' along the way... I'll gladly give all. (But seriously folks, would it kill you to allow me my own support network at the end of the day?)

     Not giving up hope. There've been gracious offers from friends who'd gladly house Roz. (It just means lots of extra driving, when we could be training...to help people learning to cope with new skills often using (wait for it...wait for it) registered canine companions. Oh the humanity!)

     I just find it funny (if not slightly hypocritical), but in the words of Forrest Gump:
    That's all I have to say about that.

    (Since clearly the prayer thing worked for my brother, maybe this time you pray for Roz...if not her, then please pray for me.)

     Here's embracing this new chapter in Ed's life for sure, but in my own life as well, which is, after all,  the only one I have a say in.  Please pray not only for his strength, but also each and every other family member, likewise juggling new hours, new rules....learning how best to support this guy we all love.

     They say we are tough... Us Evinses, survivors...
     (But Roz is an Evins too.)