Not as creepy a post as the title indicates, promise.

So, thanks to Nicole's shout out on facebook, both Archie and Whiskey are involved with the research project about genomes and whatnot.  I only read a little bit of the packet.  The form says that they'll pay for the vet to pull blood, but wtf for?  To quote my vet, it's like stabbing a garden hose.  Anyone can do it!

After a little ride Sunday, both boys gave donations.  I was interested to see how Whiskey would do, but he stood perfectly in the cross ties and let me pull the full 10ml.  He got Nicker Makers afterwards, which I'm going to have to invest in.  He was even more nuts for those treats than normal.

Hair donations.  Look at the variance in drugs!

All the foam coolers I found were ginormous and I knew the blood would rattle around in there.  So I got creative.

First coat.

I used a jewelry resin because it's what I had.

Edges a little rough, but so were hers.

I'm going to try to make a more concerted effort to write consistently, now that I have two ponies and a weekly jump lesson on Ox to record.  Fingers crossed.

In this theme, I'm going to recap every fucking thing.

Dogs:
Birgette has been with us for six months and is amazing... except she has allergies and eats poop, but she still gives the best cuddles.

Scarlette's tumor has at least doubled in size in two months, and she's ripped it open, and it's infected.  So she'll have surgery next week.  Between the time of writing and posting this, Scarlette crashed.  This very second, she's at my vet's office, on fluids.  We don't know if she suffered heat stroke or if her cancer has become systemic.  I feel like life is really just various depths of hell.

Savannah is still my heart and still a fucking saint.  Go Banana.

Yes, that is a crib mattress.  No, it wasn't meant for my baby.  It got really good reviews for dogs!

My friend teaching me to flag/sack a horse.

He'll stand right there all day, until I walk over.

Looking at my boys from Ox's back.

Crazy pink and purple for my battshit crazy Scarlette. Brown and orange for my tortie, Lili Leau.

In the center of my elbow, blue for Savannah. Also filler and some more on the skull.

Archie, which I don't think I've share.  And "Tu me manques", as a tribute to my baby.

Hidden cream and sky blue paw for Little Shit, my husband's Siamese.

Close up of Savannah's.

Birgette's paw in gray and yellow (once the blood clears), right below the rose. Also, the remaining blank canvas before my sleeve is 100% finished.

More skull and the geometric pattern, which everyone tells me looks like Q-bert's (?) world.  Once his world was explained, I felt very sad for a fictional character.

Finally, Lizzie's paw above the outside of my wrist, in pink and green for her little tongue and green eyes.

Archie

Ox

Whiskey

Other Pets

Me.

The vet squeezed her in later that day.  When I showed the spot to the tech, she was immediately alarmed more than a hot spot warranted.  Had I actually touched the spot?  Nope.  Under the blood was a hard mass.  She has a fatty lipoma on her right hip, which is soft and rather malleable.  I racked my brain quickly with the possibility of a fatty lump exploding, of an abscess being that firm, and finally, you know, all the horrible things it could be if it weren't a run-of-the-mill lipoma.

Dogs.  Not horses.  Not humans.  But also cats, because hoarder.

The hubs is in love with German Shepherds.  I am in love with every dog, regardless of breed, but I'm particular about the method of acquisition.  I have nothing against anyone who researches a breed, finds a reputable breeder who improves upon it (brachycephalic dogs, anyone?), and supports that breeder with money.  I do have issues with pet shops, puppy mills, and backyard breeders.  And I think the first option should always be adoption - private adoption, rescue adoption, don't care.

So about six months ago, we started casually looking for a canicorn.  A GSD that would be good with cats and the best bitches, have relatively clean hips and elbows, and, in theory, be young/healthy enough to go to the barn with me.  I checked every GSD that came through our local humane society.  I contacted rescues.  I branched into Belgian Malinois, because I like them and convinced D that they were suitable (every K9 cop you speak with will tell you otherwise).  I checked Craig's List and actually had a meet-and-greet scheduled before they cancelled.

At this point, I started looking at breeders, too.

And then I finally found her.



I immediately filled out the application and received confirmation that they had gotten it.  Then we had a hurricane.  And I waited.  And waited.  Roughly two weeks after I applied and a week after the hurricane, I emailed and asked for a status update.  Two days later, I got a call back and we scheduled a home visit.

"Mom, I loves her."

Now that it's official! #birgettethegsd #gsd #rescue

A video posted by bekaburke (@bekaburke) on Oct 19, 2016 at 4:43pm PDT

This was my first time working with a grassroots rescue and I was really surprised at the involvement of the foster.  When D and I fostered the litter of kittens, we returned them to the humane society and they handled the adoption.  But, here, the foster was the one to call me.  The foster made all the arrangements, inspected my yard, answered my questions, arranged the adoption.  And cried when handing the leash over.

The complication to this was that D never got to meet her prior to my adopting her.  He saw video.  He heard my accounts.  And he trusted me.  The fine print on her ad said that she was fearful of men, so when the time came to actually pick her up, I went alone.

And I brought home a dog that was the polar opposite of the one I had met a few days prior.  She was fearful.  Doorways made her nervous.  The backyard was frightening.  But she immediately loved D and loved food, so we've worked through everything slowly.  She's bright and silly and appreciates a good face rub.


We named her Birgette (beer-get), which is German for Bridget, and has an extra "te" for my original old lady, Scarlette.  She has absolutely blossomed in the past week.  She's got a couple health problems that we're getting checked out today and we're not a hundred percent sure about her age (5-7, is the guess), but even if she doesn't have every quality that we wanted, she's perfect.  She's absolutely perfect.

A video posted by bekaburke (@bekaburke) on Oct 22, 2016 at 7:43pm PDT