Words Worked

Weird... I discovered an image being circulated that includes exact lines from one of my old poems that was published prior to Internet popularity. It's cool to be plagiarized, I guess -- though I certainly don't condone the act! However, if I didn't want to share then I wouldn't have published it later on the Net too. The thing is that very many of the comments posted along with the image include statements of how the poem (it's actually a prayer) has been going around for many years and that it's been read at many a funeral to ease the pain of loss while offering hope for the future. How lovely that words can touch so many hearts! It doesn't matter that someone used words that came out of my pen to enhance words that have indeed been in use for a long time. What matters is that the words worked! I feel so honored and thankful to have been used by Spirit in this way!

"The colors we brush upon this life remain bright long after the soul takes flight!" -- T.E. Pruitt

Settling Down

Tonight there are uncomforting thumps and bangs from downstairs as stuff settles with the withdrawing flood water. I know it's a good thing, but it still sounds scary. I've not seen any bubbles in the water that might lead me to suspect a gas leak, so I suppose we're doing alright. Though we still have many feet of water we never had to leave our home, so I KNOW we're alright. Since there's not much else I can do right now I'm heading up to my art studio room where it's warmer anyway and I have all sorts of lovely things to distract me from the yuck in the basement. :)


-- Tree

2013 Downtown Kokomo Indiana Flood

*UPDATE: The City of Kokomo has issued a press release declaring this the worst flood on record.
 Starting, at our home, somewhere around 4:00 AM April 19, 2013 the Wildcat Creek in Kokomo Indiana began to flood from recent heavy rainfall. By 5:00 AM many homes near the creek and in other low lying areas began to fill with water. At this time, 11:45 PM, the water in our basement continues to rise though the creek should be cresting its flood peak by now. The water inside and outside the house has turned to a slick looking shade of dark brown. Thankfully we do sit up a bit higher than most, and our damage isn't too extensive; We've watched neighbors floating past in boats to retrieve belongings, so we know we're lucky. Our hearts go out in thanks to the very nice people we encountered on our way to fetch drinking water and in sympathy to those in the flood effect areas!

Early afternoon, water main replacement work on East Walnut Street ceases as the flooding from natural causes worsens.

Low lying areas outside of downtown Kokomo are being hit the hardest.

An entrance gate and home rest beneath the flood water in Kokomo.

Longview Street in Kokomo mid-afternoon of the flood.

The water continues to rise here on East Sycamore Street, Kokomo IN.

A hopeful basket of Spring flowers bobbed past, riding the flood current in Kokomo. 

Longview Street in Kokomo mid-afternoon of the flood.

This old fence was soon covered by flood water.

Turbid flood water strains to fit through the historic district of downtown Kokomo Indiana.

The majority of this view normally doesn't have water covering it.

Rescue workers arrive and heavy vehicles seem to be moved onto overpass bridges to weigh them down against the bobbing flood currents in the City of Kokomo.

Kokomo Fire Department arrives with rafts to rescue water logged residents in need.

Kokomo Fire Department arrives at Union Street with rafts to rescue water logged residents in need.

Flood waters push through the City of Kokomo Riverfront District.

The Union Street bridge fights back the flood.

A house in the City of Kokomo Riverfront District under flood water.

The flooding begins to catch media attention by late afternoon.

Rows of trees lining the bank of the Wildcat Creek usually do not have water touching them.

Main Street, City of Kokomo Riverfront District

City of Kokomo Riverfront District in flood.

Flood water from the Wildcat Creek reaches close to the historic 1913 level under the old railroad trestle bridge.

Turbid water pushes under the closed Main Street bridge in Kokomo.

A haunting image from the flooding in Howard County.

Looking towards the rising flood water down Main Street in Kokomo.

An urban walking trail runs along the Wildcat Creek in Kokomo. By the afternoon of April 19, 2013 the path was nearly submerged in flood water.

This trestle bridge in Kokomo Indiana survived the great flood of 1913 due to railroads and residents having loaded the bridge with heavy cars of coal; Back then the water was lapping the base of the bridge -- not far from where it is in this photo!

 A view of Washington Street bridge by Foster Park, behind the fire department in Kokomo.

The trestle bridge in Kokomo Indiana and the rising Wildcat Creek.

A resident surveys the water level at the old trestle bridge in Kokomo Indiana.

Throughout the afternoon many residents braved a walk over the old trestle bridge in Kokomo for a view of the flooding Wildcat Creek.

The Wildcat Creek enjoys a visit to Foster Park in downtown Kokomo.

The swing set, tall slide, and other playground equipment at Foster Park in Kokomo under flood water.

Through the trees the performance stage at Foster Park in Kokomo can be seen under flood water too.

The Wildcat Creek breeches its banks and leaves Foster Park in the City of Kokomo under flood water.

In the early evening it began to rain again. By the morning of April 20 the wheel tred on the machine and green grass pictured here was covered with even more water.

At the dip between sloping roads residents use a boat to get around near North Purdum Street in Kokomo.

By the early evening passersby must use a boat.

A flooded side yard on North Purdum Street.

END

 The photographs in this blog post were taken by both James and Tree Pruitt during a walk to the store one afternoon in Spring. Later in the morning hours of the next day the water began to rapidly pull back and sink away filling the town with gurgling bubbling sounds of relief!

-- Tree

Theft From Above

While walking the dog this evening my attention was caught by a feral cat on the other side of the street that had jumped on a dove. The bird hopped around squawking loudly while flapping its wings. Fat-cat took a big swipe with his paw, knocking the dove into a roll over the grass, and then jumped into the air after it. The cat was still airborne when he was passed by a Peregrine falcon that swooped in to grab the dove! The cat landed and tried to jump up after the thieving falcon but only knocked the dove slightly askew. Turning my direction the falcon struggled with its prey while flying right at me, screeching all the way! I ducked as it flew over my head close enough for me to focus for a second on the thrashing doves eyes that seemed to know only two streets over a nest in an empty field was waiting. 


-- Tree

Higgs boson in my lifetime is pretty darn cool

I remember laughing at the old movie "Parenthood" where the grandmother sucks in helium during a birthday party and says, "When I was a girl Grover Cleveland was president." My version might be, "When I was a girl the Mayan language and simple physics were still mysteries". What a world! :)
 I appreciate the reserve expressed in the link... be 100%. Still, Higgs boson in my lifetime is pretty darn cool to me! "It remains an open question whether this is the Higgs boson of the Standard Model ... or possibly the lightest of several bosons predicted in some theories that go beyond the Standard Model,"http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/03/14/us-science-higgs-idUSBRE9270XW20130314


-- Tree

Rockin With Mars

If there was or is life on Mars the evidence will be found in the rocks; stone doesn't lie! I think it's so cool that what is basically ichnology is being useful to outerspace programs! I spent every moment of my childhood that I could crawling an ancient streambed, wondering about the marks and how they were made... heck I still loose hours in wonder pouring over the specimens I collected; An entire scene can be recreated from just the information found in fossil imprints! Mars rocks! ;)

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/12/life-on-mars-evidence-nasa-curiosity_n_2861505.html?icid=maing-grid7%7Cmain5%7Cdl1%7Csec1_lnk1%26pLid%3D282730



-- Tree

G Loving Day

 I had a "G" day... glorious grey, though some would say gloomy, grateful, giggling, good, Gabby! It wasn't too long ago that I accidently sat on the new cat because Gabrielle had never lain on the sofa before; She'd not shown interest in sitting on the cushions until that day. Afterwards she was fine, and I healed, but today she took a new liberty by climbing up to lay on my chest when I sat down on the sofa! Being not quite two years old she's still more play than cuddle, so a purring curl-up was a shock that left me glowing (another "G" word).
 She can be grabbed for a hug anytime, but this was her choice and more intimate than holding her while standing. Her motion was slow, sweet, gentle, and she looked right into my eyes while searching for the perfect snuggle-in position. She purred while I rubbed her tummy until a bird landed in view outside a nearby window. Laying just an inch or two from my face Gabby chirped a cat song to the bird. I did my best to imitate the sound she'd made, and when I did her eyes widened in shock. She picked up one of her paws to gently stroke my face in the same manner that I do for her when showing that she's been a "good girl"! After that she twisted her head into a darling snuggle under my chin -- truly touching! Her purring deepened in tone. I sat there far longer than I'd intended but was left with a smile that has lasted longer still. It's a joy to watch this cat continue to develop and grow!

You'd never suspect this sweetie likes to pretend the dog is a wildebeest and she's a lioness!

-- Tree

Metaphorically Yours

A ball got thrown into the air, and there it stayed while with bat in hand I waited on the ground for my chance at a hit, until at last I decided to jump up and fly after it.


-- Tree

Goodbye Shoe String Rule

Our ragdoll cat Lily has always had a fetish for shoe strings, tearing them to pieces, so the rule has been no playing with them. Now though, I think that after 15 years of holding back she deserves to play with whatever the heck she likes! We can buy more strings, but we only get one Lily! :)

Lily in action with the laces of my boots, March 2013.

-- Tree

A week Ends

Endings can be sad but the passing of this last week brings no sorrow. It did however bring lots of love, things to be grateful for, things that we didn't know, reminded us of things that we'd forgotten, and gave opportunities for more love to grow. It almost feels like Spring. :)

-- Tree

My Wolverine Summer

"I marvelled again at my once-in-a-lifetime experience that -- for a moment -- I thought was going to end my life and at the amazing creature that had shared small parts of its own life with me."

The topic of wolverines was brought to my attention today and that reminded me of my only encounter with this elusive creature. According to Defenders of Wildlife there are only about 300 in the U.S., so it’s rare to catch a glimpse of one. That blog posed the question, "if you did see a wolverine or its tracks, would you know it?" When faced with the tracks I'd discovered one day it was the fact that I did not recognize the maker of the marks that caused me to suspect a wolverine. My sketchbooks and journals have been lost over the years, so I thought this a good opportunity to relive the experience; We certainly can't live in the past, but holding the good times keeps us connected to the memories that define our inner selves.

 Many years ago while I lived in coastal Washington State we experienced a bout of weather that was very hot and dry up in the higher elevations, so more wildlife than usual began to appear around the outer edges of town. A small herd of elk had set claim to the scrubby logging field where I usually enjoyed walking with my dogs, so I moved us to a field on the other side of the road to avoid the inevitable chase scenes. The elk field side was wet with marsh-like conditions, but the other field seemed high and dry. Though the soil was perfect for leaving tracks I saw no signs of elk or deer. We'd not walked there before, and it looked as if no one had stepped foot beyond the rusted barricade in years, but it was a wide clearing that seemed safe. I later learned this type of area is indeed often left for years without a human visitor because it's part of the timber industry. A clearing was made in the alder grove where leaves and small branches -- debris of trimming -- had been dumped into shallow pits, covered lightly, and left to compost naturally. Bulldozers had scrapped away the top layers creating a couple of mounded berms at the far side of the clearing which attracted my attention right away, being the only real feature of the lightly grassed clearing.

My dogs happily ran off leash while I wandered over to the smaller dirt pile out of two; It seemed flattened on the top so my curiosity was roused. My young bullmastiff suddenly dashed past me in a daring maneuver than nearly took me off of my feet. I laughed, and as I stood up I marvelled at how big his footprint was in the soft soil... feeling proud of my growing boy, but my eye was caught by another footprint the same size that clearly wasn't made by a dog; The claws seemed sharp and the center pad was too curved (see the print in mud at the tracks link above). The hair on the back of my neck raised as my body comprehended a predator before my mind fully processed the information. I yelled across the field to the oldest dog of my three saying, "hey Gypsy, come here and take a look at this will you!" My brave black and tan boucheron came happily dashing over to me, but slid to a stop before the mystery print. She hadn't even slid fully into place before the hair down her spine began to raise. She sniffed the track while growling softly. She followed the tracks to the top of the smaller berm. The soil was free of greenery, and since it hadn't rained in days the dry top was like powder. I could see an impression where something about the size of a medium dog had laid its body sideways and also an area of swirled dirt. The same strange footprints were everywhere. I thought to myself that it looked like a dirt wallow. Something had been comfortable enough to roll around while perched on a look-out tower, and that immediately implied to me that there could be a den or a feed carcass nearby... something worth protecting from invaders like us! As if Gypsy read my mind she jumped down to head back towards home. She looked over her shoulder at me as if to hurry me along. Neither I nor the other dogs disagreed with her opinion. When I got home I quickly grabbed at my Pacific Northwest wildlife books to identify the footprints. Without a doubt in my mind the loping dog-like tracks were made by a wolverine -- right off of the bay near town!

 The location seemed improbable to me based upon what I'd read about wolverine, but I'd had other unlikely in-town wildlife encounters, so being a hobby biologist I had to go back for personal confirmation. I chose the hottest part of a sunny day to venture back to the field alone in the hopes that anything large enough to eat me would be napping. This was just prior to the digital camera age so I only carried a notebook... the paper kind. I'd already been observing that elk group I mentioned, and had stood right amongst them without incident, so I was feeling confident in my wildlife safety skills. The visual evidence seemed to show that a wolverine was using the smaller mound of dirt, which was positioned further into the field than the larger one, as a watchtower of sorts. Two areas were greatly worn where the dirt was packed down firmly, indicating frequent body positions, that faced different directions. One area seemed to be made by the body having lain down, facing the driveway like entrance and the main portion of the field. The other impression in the dirt seemed to indicate a sitting posture facing towards the surrounding tree line. This line was less scrubby, with older alder trees, and stretched for quite a distance up the edge of the bay uninterrupted by human structures. The soil at this impression didn't seem as hard packed as where the animal had been laying down, so I wondered if this direction was a newer area of concern for the wolverine. I jumped down and followed the trajectory of what might be the wolverine's gaze.

I reached the tree line just beyond the second berm and braved a few steps into the dim light. The smell quickly gave me the impression that I'd walked into a wolverine toilet! There were large piles of feces scattered about totally uncovered. Areas of foliate growth had withered to yellow patches from repetitive urination, a heady scent close to that of a skunk pierced my sinuses, and tree trunks were covered in gashing claw marks about four feet above the ground. Small bundles of skunk cabbage had been ripped up from the soil. All of this was located very near to where the animal seemed to be spending most of its time, whereas most animals relieve themselves away from sleeping and eating spots. I felt that even though this was already an unusual situation for a wolverine there was something even more out of sorts with this behavior. I stood there for a moment looking at the scene; It seemed frantically yet intentionally made. The gashes in the trees reflected light so that they seemed like beacons through the dark trunks. I wondered why a wolverine would show signs of territorial intimidation, if that's what this was -- what scares a tough-guy? Another tough-guy, that's what!

In the wetter soil of the underbrush I found signs that the wolverine had kicked at a set of larger prints, but I couldn't see them clearly. I followed those muddy tracks deeper into the trees until I found some that had not been marred. Then I swiftly turned back as I recognized the shape of a bear print! It wasn't a tiny print either, which told me that this was possibly the small grizzly bear that I'd begun to call Nosey because we'd encountered each other before. He wasn't terribly afraid of humans so would dash out onto the paths used by locals to walk to the grocery store. They'd drop the bags and run in fear. Then Nosey would stick his face into the bags in search of booty! I have no clue how often this happened, but thankfully no one was ever injured! I DID notify the police, as I'm sure others did too, but no one at the time believed that such wildlife was creeping right into town without making for an animal attack program. Anyway, based upon past experience I guessed that Nosey was elsewhere right now, searching for salmon poaching scraps or more scented candles from someones drugstore journey gone wild.

I crept out of the trees and inspected the larger dirt pile in the field. For a moment I wished for one of Nosey's nibbled scented candles; the smell was making my head ache! There were many, many wolverine tracks around this berm -- both old and very recently made. The portion that faced away from the human entrance point of the field contained a large dug-out hole! I decided to make my observations fast lest a sleeping occupant jump out at my face. It was like no other borrow opening I'd seen before, and may have initially been created by some other animal, but a wolverine had certainly taken up residence. It was flat on the bottom and arched at the top like a human doorway might be shaped, or perhaps one of Tolkien's Hobbit holes -- indeed it was nearly large enough for a Frodo to comfortably pass through. A shadowed tunnel sloped into the center of the berm. It takes a creature more confident than a Hobbit to make a home with such a vulnerable opening, and being that I myself am closer to a Hobbit than a wolverine I decided not to explore any deeper but to observe from afar.

 For months I returned to the field at various times of day in the hope of catching visual confirmation of the existence of my new curiosity. When I chanced a close peek I found drops of blood trailing into the den and scraps of rabbit or possum fur on occasion; it was definitely being used by a carnivore! One time I found a rat skull that had been perched atop a huge cone shaped pile of feces under the trees like a jungle headhunters warning or prize (again facing the direction of those bear tracks) -- it was very creepy! The wolverine used the same paths over and over, and I noted one coming from the trees had footprints only facing towards the den berm... never facing away. One path led to the toilet dump, and another to the small berm for watching. I tried not to give human traits to this critter but it wasn't easy as it seemed so ritualistic and aware! Though we hadn't seen each other yet, I started to see signs that the wolverine was aware of my visits.

After another rare set of hot days on the rainy side of Washington I went out to look for tracks, this time hoping to get a good plaster cast. The field was dry all of the way across it. I'd been stopping near the center to watch the den berm with binoculars. I'd felt this was a good spot because few mammals under the size of a large German shepherd ventured into any open clearing for long without being hunted or hassled by a bold pair of bald eagles that nested nearby or the large ravens that prowled the sky looking for trouble. This day though, when I reached my spot there were footprints there already! It seemed that the wolverine had made numerous trips to and from its den to my observation spot -- who was watching who here? There were no poo or claw marking signs so I wasn't deemed as a big threat I supposed. Alright big fellow, I thought to myself, why don't you show me that you know I'm here.

There was no activity that day, but three days later I noticed a difference in the slightly grassy spot where I'd sit with the binoculars; I'd begun to leave a visibly worn patch where I'd sit, write in my journal, and sketch notes. Around this patch had now been worn a circle of paw prints. It was harder to be sure in this portion of the field because tracks didn't impress so well, but it certainly looked as if the wolverine had been walking around and around where I'd been sitting. Again a little creepy, but perhaps it was wondering about MY creeping habits -- afterall I wasn't stopping here to eat, or sleep, nor had I "marked" it as my territory (uh-hem, not that I literally do that). I'd only been watching, and watching makes smart creatures worry what the watcher wants!

I plopped down into the grass and settled in for the sunburn I was sure to get without sunscreen; I would always rinse off in the morning before going out to follow wildlife and avoided smelly human hygiene products like perfume and sunscreen. I wasn't there for long before I thought I heard a slight sound of pebbles rolling... mounded dirt shifting! The binoculars were still in my bag, but I could see what looked like a fair sized dog with shaggy dark fur step up onto the look-out berm. A cream colored head turned to look at me, and I could see rounded over ears held high in attention! For a few moments we were both frozen stiff in staring. I came out of my shock to realize that direct stares are generally taken as aggression by any mammal, so I turned my head like a cat licking its shoulder. I pretended to groom myself for several minutes while being sure to keep a sideways eye on the wolverine. It cocked its head to the left in a curious manner and sat down as a well behaved dog might sit. The lightly painted sides of the animal gleamed in the sunlight, and all the tips of its fur sparkled like jewels! Its dark face seemed to disappear under the reflection of the creamy brow making the entire head look twice the size it should be. My bag was sitting off to my side so I slowly stretched out my arm as if I were licking it clean while I reached for the binoculars.

 Everything was going all Jane Goodall until the lenses reached my eyes, then action changed swiftly. I don't know if there was a reflection caught by the wolverine -- perhaps the silver metal binoculars reminded it of a previous experience with a gun, it may have been startled by something it had never seen before, or perhaps it simply had enough of this creepy human watching it -- but I got definite confirmation of the species as it leaped off of the berm right towards me! My mind rushed to figure the length of the wolverine in comparison to the diameter of the field that had seemed so big just a moment ago. There was no time for calculations of running to safety or even standing upright as the animal rushed straight at me! One single word -- of a befouled nature -- screamed in my mind, and I may have even cussed it out-loud as well!

Though they may plop a bit in their running style wolverines seem to be surprisingly fast! It stopped more than three-fourths of the way to my face across that field and skidded to a stop with a huffy stomp. Arching its back slightly sideways it raised its tail high and lowered its head while showing me teeth. It made a sound like an overweight person carrying something heavy up steps, and as it grunted saliva dripped from the ends of its mouth spritzing with every other huff of breath. It was so close that I could smell the stank muskiness of its moistening fur! Thankfully wild animals often recognize the stupidity of innocence, and the wolverine soon determined that I was nothing more than a pest. I had pulled my knees up to my chest with my arms locked under my legs in preparation for a be-clawed blow that never came. It sniffed towards the bundle of me, then turned its body away. I braced myself convinced that I was about to be urinated upon at the very least, because my precocious habits had in the past gotten me soaked by everything from cute little dogs to Sumatran rhino (burns the eyes). The wolverine only watched me suspiciously over its shoulder while lurching back to the berm. This all happened in what was certainly only a few seconds, but it felt much longer as I sat there trying to breath and mentally replaying every wildlife show that ever featured a wolverine kicking the butt of a cougar or bear -- the toughest woodland tough-guys!

 When the wolverine next laid down atop the berm my insides were torn -- I still wanted to jump up and run for my life, but it seemed as if my presence was going to be tolerated. Do I stay or should I go? I had a few moments to weigh out the factors before deciding. No one knew where I was, cell phones weren't common yet, and I had no weapon; because I wasn't going to be gathering herbs that day I didn't even have my dagger at my side -- not that I'd want to use it on an animal anyway. My husband loved me, my dogs needed me, and a curious adventure wasn't worth continuing to be so openly risky... I decided to leave. As I slowly stood up the wolverine did too. It watched me as I picked up my things and took a few steps backwards. Nothing happened so I turned to go as adrenaline began to pump through my small body -- that thing was nearly as big as I was! I smiled and thought a great big WOW!

Rule number one is don't turn your back on an animal. I spun round in time to see the wolverine dashing back towards me! I planted my feet firmly and shouted, "NO!" while pointing an index finger at it. It slid to a stop without arching its back; It seemed dumbfounded by my action. I spoke to it saying, "we've already done this part. Now I'm leaving!" In a less firm tone I thanked it verbally and spiritually for allowing me to see it. I told it how magnificent, powerful, and lovely it was as I BACKED away towards the entrance gate; I was projecting as much non-threatening confident energy as I could muster! The wolverine stayed put until I reached the paved road beyond the entrance, all the while seeming perplexed. It stared for a while longer before turning its back to me to return to its outpost. I walked home beaming -- thrilled with having survived my adventure!

Since the wolverine had decided to let me live I decided to do the same. I only entered the field once more, though I frequently walked past the entrance with my dogs. I was left with the impression that the weather, or other conditions, that Summer had forced a lot of different species into unusual situations of survival that required small territories and a greater tolerance of each other. I had many wildlife encounters over nearly two years of hotter-than-usual weather. I never spotted my shaggy pal again though. The following year weather conditions returned to the normal daily drip, and the wildlife signs near town lessened as the critters returned to the mountains. One day near Winter I noticed that the wolverine's den berm had debris scattered over it. I ventured a close enough look to see that the tidy arched doorway was beginning to cave-in and forest litter was filling it, indicating that it had been quite some time since anything had passed through. The air smelled sweetly clean. The wolverine was gone. I marvelled again at my once-in-a-lifetime experience that -- for a moment -- I thought was going to end my life and at the amazing creature that had shared small parts of its own life with me for a time.


-- Tree Pruitt

Stuck On Tapes

Going through 'em - heartless trash can; anyone else still have tapes? If you think that's something sticky then you're too darned young to continue reading. ;) I wanted James to put them on disk for me, but for some it's far too late. "My" Air Supply greatest hits sounds like it ran out of oxygen and the Nakai sounds like he fell off of that canyon wall with his flute! We've re-purchased all of the Nakai on disk already, but somehow I doubt that James will cry over the total loss of Air Supply unless something happens to the planetary atmosphere, LOL! Guys. ;)


-- Tree

Love Rocks

This year Valentine's Day had been dominated by a different kind of love... my love of rocks! I've been following the path of comet DA14 Lemmon and other astral bodies. An object unrelated to DA14 did indeed impact in Russia today; I'm very sorry to read that people were hurt and damage incurred. These comets and asteroids are a seriously cool event though, and this armchair scientist is going to revel in the luck of the passing. I think that this is a bigger event for me than the passing of Halley's Comet.
I enjoyed the computer animations shown on and ABC News web page, here. Off to look, watch, and read more.


-- Tree

Dogs World

Hey Jo, Banana Joe is America's top dog! Westminster Dog Show was great! A tough job for the judge this year! Glad to hear more talk about the handlers, and Sparky is grateful for his annual post-West potty walk. I simply adore that my husband turns on the show without being asked -- b/c he loves it too -- and my personal dog sat on my lap while that historic program played. Of course, every year Lily cat feels the energy and has to join in the love too. Great night for pets across the globe! :)
-- Tree

Dog Sneak

Sneaker...No Sparky it's not working. I can tell you ate that Milkbone on the sofa BECAUSE of the huge wet spot where you're rushing to lick away the evidence of your social crime. People use eyes more than noses buddy, so you're busted, but thanks for trying to clean up anyway. You get to lay on your blankie only for the evening. I'll get the Woolite. :)


-- Tree

Suspected Respect

When Gabby was a kitten she'd stand on the plastic pet food container to wait for canned goodies so that she didn't cross the older cats path (paw). She sat there until I set her in front of her own dish. I think it's cute that even though they're friends now Gabby still does this out of habit or... respect?


Lily on the left & Gabby's on the right hand side.


-- Tree

A Mutt No More

We found our Gypsy... AKA Super Dog! Have you ever had that perfect dog and thought to yourself it's a shame they can't breed more mutts like that, or wish you could find another dog that thinks in a similar way as your beloved departed? It would be a miracle to find that again, but we did. This picture is NOT my dog; If you knew her you'd swear this is a photo of a young Gypsy Rose Pruitt!

THIS is Gypsy at 14 years old after a good run in a field.

 A recent post on a Facebook page I follow led me to wonder if I know all of the AKC dog breeds, so I browsed to check, here. I did notice a breed that I couldn't picture in my mind, but the name seemed as if I should know it. Off to Google images where my jaw quickly dropped when photos that looked JUST like our old Gypsy Rose began to show! Was I insane!? HOW could I have missed this breed over the whopping 15 years we enjoyed with Gypsy, and how did we come to think of her as a mix? Breed names got mixed up. Gypsy was a lovely Beauceron... NOT a Belgian Malinois Doberman mix! A really stupid mistake for a person "into" dogs her whole life to make. Maybe Gypsy cast a spell over us so we wouldn't look at Beauceron's, being a French breed, because we're of German decent! LOL! I would tell her that she was better than a pure-bred to me, and I swear she'd get a different sort of smile as if she knew a secret! No wonder the poster at the vet's office always had a Gypsy-dog on it -- duh! In defense of our vet not seeing her breed he was a mastiff type specialist, and Beauceron were not common in the 1990's.

Dogster's dog breed info

Get dog answers and help

We're stunned -- though NO dog will ever be Gypsy -- that so many of the qualities that we loved ABOUT Gypsy could be had again. Details like "the look" in her eyes, fluffy neck, drape of the tail (Gypsy had a stunning tail), weird double fur with mouse grey under the thick rich black, quirky set to the ears... things that you say to yourself, "That's MY dog"... and the personality traits of the Beauceron are spot on to Gypsy's keen mind and big heart; hence her title as Super Dog.



A collage of Gypsy at 14 & 15 years old.

 I think this is what happened to cause us to not know we had a rare breed dog for 15 years... I was excited at the time to be getting a dog and didn't listen really. Her newspaper ad read as, "GermShep/Dob mix like dog". When talking to the owner I caught that it was a French breed name and nothing else mattered after I'd looked into her eyes for the first time. Now, when I think about it, I can tell Gypsy's pre-us story the same way, but it all has different meaning.
 There was a kennel accident where dogs that weren't supposed to be bred at the time were bred. A family on vacation was visiting the kennel where, at the time, the unwanted puppies were being destroyed, (though already a couple of months old). I don't know if that still goes on, but it used to be a way of breeders to be responsible for puppies that were born out of season or had unwanted features; I know it seems awful, but they can't keep and feed every dog. Anyway, a very cute little girl from the family persuaded daddy and the kennel owner friend to let her save the last puppy. They took it home with them and totally lost control of the dog, which had no experience with people. They lived in the country so the dog just ran. She'd come back, but never inside. They got fed up with her special needs, because really she was just unsocialized, and put an advert in the newspaper. We drove out and paid a whole ten dollars for her, even though the man said she'd cost him a LOT more. At the time I thought he meant in the context of stress, LOL. Later when I was asked what kind of dog she was I'd said to someone that it was something French, Malinois came up and our vet never disagreed; She must then be a Doberman mix because, of course, Malinois aren't short coated black and tans like that. Thus Gypsy was branded a mutt and had to stay home when we took our Bullmastiff, Harvey (short for Harvest) to shows, but we always spoiled her like crazy when we got home! We didn't show for long though because it seemed to stress the dogs, and enjoying them at home was more important.


My old pack wearing their best "stay" faces.

Gypsy's story is a long one -- she had over 15 years and 4000 miles under her bucket when she kicked it. I can't count the number of lives she touched with her love of my extended family and various neighbors, her work with the elderly, and assistance to law enforcement. I knew she was a Working Class dog, so I always found her "jobs" to do, and she did them with pride. 

I can't just not mention Deyanna, and since this is a blog of personal memories I'll not think twice then about typing too much. Deyanna was Gypsy's baby; This whole thing is coming out to sound very irresponsible, but we're really not people like that. We had a moment of weakness that allowed us to be persuaded to breed with a very fine AKC papered German Shepherd -- papered, so perhaps they were the irresponsible ones, but either way I DO NOT condone random breeding of pets! But I'd do it again in a heartbeat knowing that it gave us Deyanna, my sister her Aggie, and others who said they'd gotten the best dogs of their lives; All of her pups went to loving homes for life. Gypsy was my best friend, but Deyanna (and Harvey too) was my baby... she was my only Punkin. The two of them were amazing together and filled all my desires from a dog overall. I trained Deyanna to respond to peeps and whistles... left, right, lay, run, sit -- it was glorious! And Deyanna was just as lovely with her silver grey and tan coat, though bigger and chunkier than her mother; She was my 75 lbs lap dog. Excellent at search and retrieve, but Deyanna never warmed up to strangers like Gypsy did so Therapy Dog work was out for her. She was so smart that as a puppy she figured out how to slide open the pen door, sneak out, AND close it behind her! She'd sneak away from the other puppies to cry at our bed side at night until she got big enough to climb up (a keeper)!


Deyanna Lynn Pruitt, Beauceron German Shepherd mix at 8 years old.

When walking the wildness in the Pacific Northwest the girls were essential extra eyes and ears! Though we had encounters with cougar and bear it always turned out well because the dogs listened to us, and they were a true extension of my self. When sitting in the home they were valiant protectors and wonderful companions. I worked with them every moment I was awake and Deyanna watched over me as I slept. Together my "Girls" would walk one on either side of me, off leash even when possible, and made me feel like a goddess. I'm stunned to imagine that kind of connection could be out there again! I wouldn't give up my current Tibbie, Sparky, for anything but he's a totally different kind of dog -- perfect for my life right now. Someday though, I'd like to again have the kind of lifestyle for wilderness treks, Agility courses and Therapy Dog visits. Now I know the Beauceron is waiting... new possibilities are waiting. Hey... a dog is a lot more than just a dog!
-- Tree



This Beauceron reminds me a lot of my sisters "Aggie".