Dog Bone Pouches

 I made these as a thank you to our vet and his staff in helping with our dog over the past few years.

They can use them as treat bags, or whatever bags.

I lined them with a laminate fabric from Ikea  - orange polka dots. Easy to wash.
The outer fabric will remind them they are from the lady at the airpark.

I used a selection of yellow and orange zippers from stash.
Now to fill them with some nice chocolates or something.

 I also mis-placed my template pattern from the last time I made these so my notes here include the dimensions;

From pattern file: cut bone out of printer paper. About 8" x 4" with four rounded knobs.
Fold pattern piece in half and cut  with 1/4" SA -  two linings, two outers. Cut two battings at actual size. Install zipper as per usual. Add pull tab.
Because of different zipper widths, Cut the backings after you finish the front. One back, One lining, one batting/wadding less SA.
Open zip, sew all the way around with 1/4" SA. Turn. Top-stitch.


My sixth one is not top-stitched. I literally ran out of thread - not only at the spool but also on the bobbin. I had about a yard left on the bobbin and six inches on the spool!

I took that as a sign that six is enough and no one will notice that one is not top-stitched around the edges.
Possibly I was tired of making six. Done.

Losing Our Dog Rusty

 Years ago, when I started the blog, I had been stymied for a blog name until my good friend, Pencil Girl, suggested Running With Rocket.

Rocket, our first Lab,  suffered from wanderlust - we were always running after him. My mind is always going a mile a minute, and the name seemed to fit my eclectic creativity. Not to mention the alliteration.

Rocket passed away a few years ago.  Rusty was given to us and for a while, we were a two dog family. They were very different yellow labrador retrievers. Rocket being so smart - he could learn new tricks, dress up, go visit his doggy friends - smart enough to look at that ball you just threw and roll his eyes.
Rusty, by comparison, was quite stupid, with only two thoughts in his brain: Fetch and Eating - in that order.

Rusty lived to fetch, but unfortunately he developed arthritis in his joints and he had to learn not to fetch. This was a pretty big blow to him and it took a few years. As he got older - around 9 yrs, he finally stopped being a high-energy puppy and started learning some tricks.


He learned to roll over but he couldn't do it both ways. He could only do it right to left, not left to right. His legs would flail and he'd get frustrated. Such a funny dog.

 Rocket and Rusty hung out together. The other great thing about Rusty was he wanted to stay home. He would go touring with Rocket, but an hour later he would come dashing home as if to say, "I don't know where Rocket was going, but I had to come home."

This is the picture I sent to have painted. I use this photo as my google id photo too.
The artist  is Sandra Spencer. Sandra is the sister of my friend in Kyoto.

 The Standard Poodle, Faux Pas, a couple of houses away, has 'rich' parents who splurge on these chuck-it balls. We're more of a used tennis ball type of doggie family. Anyway - Rusty would 'borrow' these and bring them home for extended vacations. Until the neighbor would stroll by and pick up three or four of them to take back home.  Rusty loved his Chuck -It, a molded plastic arm that will throw a tennis ball a long ways.

 This girl. Misses him terribly. I took this photo just before she headed off to Central America for a five month discovery journey a few years back. Now she is in Alaska.

 The last couple of years, Rusty developed Pancreatitis - the doggie version of diabetes. He's get into something outside (cat food, compost, etc)  and then he would be in stomach distress. We switched up his food to a non-fat one and he managed to almost get to 15 years old (October).

This is the longest I've ever had a large dog live. My other two suffered from seizures and we put them down around 11 years old. I had high hopes Rusty would die naturally but that last week, you could tell it was inevitable and why put him through the pain.

He suffered a huge pancreatic attack and lost the use of his limbs and stopped eating. Three days later, he stopped drinking water. We carried him outside on a board but he couldn't stand and he wasn't recovering like he did last February, when we thought we were losing him.

Up until that last week, he managed to get around. His muscles in his hind legs were atrophying, especially his left hind leg. He would pull himself up and wander behind us in our indoor/outdoor pursuits. You could always tell if he was having pancreatic attacks if he struggled more than usual to pull himself up.

I took this photo in August, when we had pulled the Stearman outside the hangar to have more room inside to work on the project Piper J-5 airplane.

He liked eating raspberries and cherry tomatoes but not posing for photos.

My son took the top photo above when we were out taking photos of him for his graduation. Even though his hind legs didn't always work for him, he was such a people dog, wanting to be with us, even though we walked a fair piece to get photos with a tree background.

He always had to have his toys nearby just in case he could fetch. In his latter years, we would just roll it a few feet to put less strain on his shoulders and joints.

He died August 25th, 2016, nearly five years after Rocket passed. It is very sad here and it took me a while to figure out some of the emotions. This is the last bit of my children's childhood passing away. Both of my kids have lived away from home since they were 18 but a common thread in our conversations would be about the dogs. It has been very emotional here losing this last link.

I keep expecting Rusty to find me in the garden, or ask for a drink of water as I am watering my plants. Or stick his nose in the bathroom door (just like my kids); "why are you in there and I am out here?"

I don't know if we will get another pet. I am thinking about a parakeet/budgie bird. That way if hubs and I want to go away for a few days, we can carry the bird to the pet-sitting neighbor and just go. Right now, I can't imagine not having another dog, but hubs is another question.

Dogs make life worth living.

February Stuff

Rusty this morning. His hind legs won't bend anymore.

 Hibernation at this time of year seems to fit the bill.  I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now.

Books I have read or am reading? I couldn't put Magic Hour by Kristin Hannah down. This one is set in the Olympic forest on the Washington State coast.  This winter, I've been gravitating to Pacific Northwest writers.

Teresa got me started on Sara Donati - ordering me to read her books in order. I've checked out all of them except the pesky first one which is checked out by someone else. Shhh....don't tell Teresa, but I started in on her Queen of Swords.
Bill Brysons' new book came up in my library queue so I switched over to Road To Little Dribbling which re-visits his treks around Britain. I'm at the part where he mentions Chertsey and I suck at geography anymore but I'm wondering if that's near  where Benta lives?

It's gray and rainy and windy right now. I brought the sunny weather back to Oregon when we got home from Oahu in January but it only lasted a week. At least we aren't buried alive in frigid snow drifts like the midwest and the east coast. I love Oregon and it's soft seasons. However, dreary takes it's toll.

My 14 year old yellow lab, Rusty, is dying. I've always had to put my other big dogs to sleep because of pain, seizures, and incontinence. I am hoping Rusty will die naturally. It's a delicate balance to watch this which is more difficult than I thought it would be. 

Balancing how much pain he is in, making comfort care  as good as I can make it in his last days with the possibility of too much pain, nausea, not being able to take care of his business. Being humane.

My snowdrops last week

His hind legs don't much work - we have to help him get up. He is able to manage his business by himself. But he isn't eating as much, or when the nausea is a bit too much, not at all.

I've stuck another balance point by giving him one pain pill every 8 hours - which  means they overlap a bit in dulling the pain. He's been eating a bit more and walking a bit more but his care is using a lot of my brain right now - thinking of ways to make him more comfortable.

Valentine plant from my Mom & Dad

I can usually create and sew despite living in my typical chaos. UFO's are UnFinshed Objects. WIPs are Works In Progress. I think I've reached my personal limit because I walk into my sewing room and walk right back out.

Today, I walked in, walked back out, but came back with several ziploc bags. I proceeded to bag up five projects from my sewing table where my machines are.

I hid them in a corner.

I dusted down my table and instantly came up with a pillow project that I finished. Mostly. 

 Rusty always has his ball nearby. 

The ball he 'borrows' from FauxPas - the poodle, three houses away.

After I finished two pillow covers, I found some small stains on the upcycled hobnail bedspread that I had not noticed when cutting them out. I had been focusing on the hobnail pattern and didn't think to look on the other side.

So - a little soaking in the washer was in order. I'll see if the stains 'disappear' or are at least more faint and then pronounce them done.

Back to work tomorrow plus a lovely doctor visit to discuss what else I can be doing for my SIBO auto-immune.

Last summer on the patio

Happy Halloween!

http://dachshundfanclub.com/wiener-airplane/

Airplane Halloween

Just google Airplane Costume Images.

 

Desert Chica Ramblings put together several airplanes made out of cardboard boxes and duct tape.

Oh Happy Day put this spin on an airplane costume.

Rusty

 
I'm down to one dog now, Rusty is his name.
For over  ten years now, he's been an energetic puppy.
He's got some arthritis in his right shoulder that gives him trouble.

Fetching - his main thought (some may say his only thought) in his brain - puts strain on that shoulder when he reaches or pounces for his ball. We've had to put him on a fetching diet. Three slow rolls of less than 10 feet and that's it.

In the  morning, I let him out to do his business and then we have a quiet-time routine.
He comes back into the garage and I cover him with an old quilt, give him a treat and he sleeps for another hour.

This is a dog who was too hyper to dress-up and would eat any clothes we tried to put him in.
By comparison, his buddy, Rocket, adored dressing up.

So odd to see him snuggling under the covers now.

Blogs About Dogs

My hairdresser's dog died this morning.

We have daughter's the same age so we have bonded over the years with some common interests. This is a hairdresser with long hair which is my number one requirement for someone to get near me with scissors. She understands my wavy and mostly unruly hair. She gets the cut right about 9 out of 10 times which is better than any other hairdresser I have used previously.

She once gave me straight hair for my 40th birthday. It was amazing until about 5pm when it all poofed back out.

We both have had more than our fair share of drama this summer. --Ongoing family drama, work drama, wedding drama next door and now our individual dog dramas.  Her dog died as she was leaving this morning for work. He's an outdoor dog so since it wasn't that hot today, she left him where he died until she could take care of him once she finished work.  Somehow the neighbors found the dead dog and called the police. Her daughter answered the door and they asked her some big questions about how the dog died. Since he was 12, it was fairly apparent what he died of.

My dog drama is my younger lab, Rusty. We took him to the vet for a  continuing gimpy shoulder which was getting worse. Lying on the rug, he would suddenly start shrieking, holding his left foreleg off the ground.  The x-ray results are either a bone cyst or a bone tumor. Some of the internet sites explaining these diagnoses are pretty saddening. And it is sad to know that quite possibly, this 7-yr.old dog will die before Rocket, who is ten years old.

Anyway, quite possibly not the best day to get my hair highlighted, I ended up a bit brighter than when I walked in. 

Planting Peas. uh huh.

Nearly the same photo of Rusty. The dog is 7 and look how well he minds me!  (Bribed with a tennis ball!)

The crocuses are gone now. The stella d'oro day lilies are lusher. The fringe Tulips have not bloomed yet (May). The weeping Jap. maple is unfurling its  bloodred leaves. Right behind the maple is a varigated weigelia. The tree in this bed is a Coral Bark Maple (Sangu Kaku).  Way behind all that is one of two Star Magnolias blooming (white)- planted in honor of my kidlets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garden: Got to plant those peas. Just as soon as I finish turning over the soil.  The fenced area is not a deterrent to the dogs, but it does keep them from running pellmell through all the vegetables,  chasing imaginary trespassers, and indiscriminately pruning. They like to graze at the peas, not to mention the strawberries, and don't even attempt to keep blueberries for yourself.

Come to think about it, they adore the raspberries too. Am I growing all these vegy's and fruits for the dogs?

Ramblin' Rocket

Did I mention that Rocket likes to visit his friends every so often?
Did I mention his entire brain is encased in his big lab nose?
Did I mention he's a male dog and really enjoys the marking of his territory.

He has a route.

All the dogs on the street have to sniff and pee on a spot that I call the library. The library is a huge crabgrass circle about two feet in diameter halfway down the street.

My dogs spend a lot of time reading this spot.
And - after they are satisfied with the reading, they lift their leg and pee on top of everyone else.

Last night, Rocket took off after dinner as if he had an appointment or another dinner party to attend. He stumbled in hours later, tired out, barely able to manage the one step into the house. Obviously, a hard nights work for this nine year old dog.

He maintains friendships at the trailer park beyond the pond, behind the Christmas tree farm where the renters live, and likes to sashay by Mabel's house just to see if she'll get hoppin' mad that he is outside and she is trapped inside.

He's always been a wandering dog. He has houdinied himself off the chain using his thumbs to unscrew the chain lock mechanism. He can slip a collar every time and we have never been able to make him carry his id.

Next time -- I am so getting a female dog.