tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82630774220629261452024-03-05T05:30:24.142-06:00Dancing With DogsThe Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-32280729489179134532011-09-05T10:27:00.001-05:002011-09-05T10:52:55.672-05:00FOR THOSE WHO MAY HAVE TO EVACUATE ANIMALS FROM NATURAL DISASTERSWith all the natural disasters occuring across the nation this year, I want to remind you not to forget your fuzzy, furry, feathered or scaled pets is you should need to leave your home.<br />
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OK TO LINK TO THIS BLOG POST Please Credit: DustMusher (C) 2011 <br />
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TODAY: Make a Info sheet for your pet – IF it is a foster for a 501(c)3 rescue group – list the Rescue and a local but out of area contact number as the FIRST contact – then add your name and contact number (cell phone) as the FOSTER.<br />
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List the Vet name and contact number which will have vet records for that animal.<br />
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Have a picture of you and the pet with names on the photos.<br />
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Have any special meds or food needs on the sheet.<br />
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Place the sheet in a Gallon size Ziplock bag that you have punched holes in the top edge above the ziplock so you can use zip ties (plastic wire ties) to attach it to the crate the animal is in. This will keep the sheet waterproof.<br />
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Just keep the ziplock bags (one for each animal) with info in a stack in one place to grab all at once – attach to crate when at evac location. <br />
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One of my friends on an animal list suggested that this information be put in a clearly marked Tote kept near the door, perhaps on your leash and collar hanger, in case Rescuers have to enter your home if you were not at home when an evacuation order is issued. <br />
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Also have a SAVE MY PETS sticker on each door listing how many of each species of animal you have in your home so the rescuers will know what and how many to look for. These volunteer animal evacuation rescuers try very hard to save all the animals left behind.<br />
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Sample Crate ID sheet: May be copied and pasted for format to one page in WORD this was originally typed in Comic Sans 48 Bold for name; Comic Sans 12 for body. Photos of pet inserted with WORD insert icon.<br />
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For more info on emergency Preps for Pets email me at DustMusher@gmail.com and I will send you information how to purchase the complete Dogs In Disasters CD.<br />
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TEMPLATE resize if necessay to fit on one side of a sheet of paper:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>ICY (Call name of pet)</strong></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #4c1130;">Male Alaskan Malamute (Gender and breed of pet)</span></div><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;">PHOTOS HERE – Insert to Word Document – resize to fit to page</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>OWNER:</strong> Alaskan Malamute Assistance League (Texas)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"> Susan Jones: 302-555-6689 National Contact</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"> Linda Smith: 210-912-5544 Texas Contact</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>FOSTER HOME:</strong> Cherie and Art Dell --- Belfort, TX </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"> Cell Phone: 932-453-9367</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>AVID Microchip H1587184747</strong></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>Rabies Tag</strong>, 00158 Gold Coast Vet Hosp.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>Vet:</strong> Gold Coast Vet Hosp, Belfort TX Phone: 932 334-5833</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>Alternative Contact:</strong> Kelly & Trina Mickels 714 823-7711</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>FEEDING:</strong> 1 ½ cups dry kibble twice a day, free access to water</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>MEDICAL HISTORY</strong>: Age related Arthritis, HW NEG <br />
<strong>MEDICATION:</strong> Heartgard First Sunday each Month </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"> Buffered Aspirin as needed for joint pain, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #4c1130;"><strong>EXERCISE:</strong> Moderate leash walking only – Icy is old and arthritic</span><br />
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</span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-73885163758756902492011-08-17T07:32:00.000-05:002011-08-17T07:32:30.670-05:00For my friends: I have decided to post my real status - to explain why I have not been too active on the board and groups.<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin: 0in -3.75pt 0pt -5.25pt; mso-outline-level: 6;"><b><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have decided to post my real status - to explain why I have not been too active on the board and groups.</span></span></b></div><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Deciding to tell my real status: It isn't the in-laws which are the issue - FIL and MIL are passed and I never had a chance to meet either one - one of the things which happen when one re-marries at an age. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It is my blood daughters - when I lost my house and I basically gave the eldest daughter who came to help me all the family heirlooms she then decided just because I had some health issues I was essentially non compus mentus. She decided I was to move from my house in rural Texas and live near them in an apartment in Buena Park, CA (Metro Los Angeles) -- on the edge of the ghetto and they would make all of my life decisions. I was making the horrible decision to smoke and thus because I had a half gallon of vodka to make herbal tinctures, I was a drunk. At the point she and her eldest daughter began wrongly but loudly stating all the things we would as health care professionals state to get a person committed to a mental hospital, I ordered them out of my home. She then contacted her sister and both of my step children telling them how incompetent I was and tried to totally alienate them from me. She was so magnanimous that she would allow me to keep 2 of the 4 dogs which I owned IF they could find an apartment which would allow them. I owned 4 old dogs, and was a temporary foster for others for a rescue organization </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It has been almost a year and a half since I have spoken to all but my step-daughter here in Texas and her son. (Step daugher and her son are a blessing without price) Some of my grand children have quietly been in touch with me by friending me on FB. Neither daughter has said a word to me - I guess that all they wanted were the silver flatware and the Spode dishes which were my mother's and the family photos - which are gone forever from me. She, DD, was supposed to scan and send copes. Never Happened. I have no photos of my parents or family and I know the kids don't know any of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Not only have they stolen mementos of my family here on earth, but any reminders and heritage of my past. We share the same religion, and they continue to be very active in the church (Continually letting the world know how righteous the are) - my only solace is the grand children are being raised with that value system - I hope - but . . . I don’t think she realizes this is how she is teaching her children to treat her elders. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Luckily, I have been adopted by another family -- no blood relation - but closer than my own flesh and blood at this point. I am their 'grandmother'. With that, I have the closeness and love and support I don’t get from most of my blood family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">How much problem would it take to pick up a phone and call me - or email me. All contact from daughter is to one of the adopted grand daughters usually to the extent of 'has she (me) come to her senses yet?’ But she is sure to point out that she is a good Christian Mormon. If that is what a good human is - I am not so convinced I want to play in that sandbox. Not what I see living life as Jesus would. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I love my girls and step-sons and grandchildren - wonder if they feel the same? Thank God for FB - that is the only way I know what is happening with my grandchildren. Though apparently one of the grand daughters has un-friended me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The daughter and SIL are 'preppers' and I can only hope that they read this and understand that I love them - just not those things they have done to me. (I am re-posting this on my FB page) Sorry for all the non-family/dog friends who get this also – not your problem to solve – but you are a VERY important support group for me.) </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">My "unforgivable sin" was not giving up my life as I knew it and letting them totally run my life as they saw fit. They did the same thing to his parents...now his Mother has passed and God only knows what human dignity he still has been allowed. The other set of grandparents lived in the town where Maureen O worked and I at least could make sure that all was well with them from her until her change in job. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">If hurting me is her goal - oh how she has succeeded. And the only reason I have not sunk into very chronic depression is my adopted family. But life goes on. I am 66 years old, as far as I AND MY Doctor know, in good mental health, fair physical health and hopefully have time to teach my new family all I have learned throughout my life to make their life better. And my other friends are treasures. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> Thank you for reading this, I am tired of carrying the heartache and burden by myself. What are friends for and if I can't share - well I guess I will find out who are friends and who are aquaitences. Please do not feel you have to repond just sharing has helped lift a big weight from me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Just hug your kids and parents- and think before you do somethng which may hurt them to this extent. Remember, it is never too late to mend fences and relatioships as long as they are alive. </span><br />
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The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-68714646622211840942011-07-08T01:55:00.006-05:002013-05-23T22:57:37.276-05:00THE LONG ROAD HOME - MALIE'S Story or: How Rescue should and can workRescue is getting a lot of bad publicity being ‘greedy’ and ‘out for the money’, or ‘eating its own’, however, this is a real situation – no money changed hands, it was all done with the correct attitude and cooperation which happens daily amongst the rescues I work with. I had no involvement in this rescue – and the dog never became a ‘rescue’ dog – we did even better than take the dog into rescue – we allowed the dog to remain with its owners and just get her to her new home. We don’t do it for our own glory or money – we do it FOR THE ANIMALS! <br />
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Getting this done involved four <strong>Alaskan Malamute Assistance League</strong> associate rescue groups, one independent rescuer in Louisiana who heard the story from her daughter that lived in the same apartment complex as the owners of Malie, and <strong>Pilots and Paws</strong> with a lot of communication and coordination between all these groups. <br />
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The story as told in emails. Permission to post emails and use names have been granted by those involved. AMAL affiliate rescues have a Yahoo Group we use for communicating amongst ourselves<br />
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TO: AMAL May 2011<br />
Well this is a real long shot but we got a call from a lady in Canada on April 13th trying to figure out if we new anything about a dog in the Baldwin shelter in CA named Malie. There were several people in Canada that wanted to help this dog. <br />
Sylvia<br />
<strong> Washington Alaskan Malamute Assistance League</strong><br />
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TO: AMAL<br />
I received an email request from a local person wanting information on transporters from CA to El Paso, TX for a military family. Then I received this email of the whole story. It is pretty incredible, and if anyone has some ideas please share. Thanks.<br />
Florence T. Robinson<br />
<strong> Louisiana Alaskan Malamute Protection (LAMP)</strong><br />
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TO: PILOTS AND PAWS FROM THE OWNER OF MALIE<br />
Thanks again D** for any help you can provide my husband and me! I attached a picture of our beloved dog Malie, our almost 2 year old Alaskan Malamute.<br />
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My husband joined the Army March 2009. We were married just after his basic/AIT training July 09 and my husband was sent to his first duty station in Wiesbaden, Germany August 09. We had been told that I would be anywhere from 2-4 weeks behind him and that he probably wouldn't see a deployment anytime soon. Unfortunately nothing in the Army is set in stone and my husband was assigned to a deploying unit and would be headed to Iraq a mere 4 months after he arrived in Wiesbaden. I was faced with a tough decision, spend a few months with my husband and spend a year alone in Germany, or stay home. I decided to go to Germany, and also decided to bring a dog with me to protect me and keep me company. That's where my gorgeous puppy comes into the picture.<br />
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I purchased my female Alaskan Malamute when she was just 2 months old and started the process to get us to Germany. My husband and I turned in all the necessary paperwork to get Malie and me before my husband left for Iraq, and just when we thought we would be together before Thanksgiving we were told that all the paperwork had been lost and would have to be resubmitted which meant it would all go through after my husband was in Iraq. Defeated, we tried to get my husband home for the holidays but he was told that it was too late for him to take any leave before the deployment.<br />
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During my husband's R&R was the very first time he met Malie and boy were they both excited! Malie is a smart dog who gets herself into a lot of mischief but when you meet that doggie face, you can't help but love her instantly! We had a great 2 weeks together we were just so excited for the deployment to be over and to finally head to my husband's next duty station and be together once more!<br />
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December 2010 my husband finally was done in Iraq, he got to come home to California for leave before we packed up and headed to Fort Bliss, TX (El Paso) for the remainder of his contract in the Army. I had to drive myself from CA to El Paso, TX while my husband had to fly from Germany to El Paso so I prepared my car and Malie for the long 18 hour drive.<br />
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Not 3 days before I was supposed to be on the road, I didn't wake up to the usual morning howls of Malie trying to get my attention for our morning walks. There was a HUGE hole that led into our neighbor's backyard and my neighbors had no clue where Malie was. I searched for her everywhere I could think, called every vet hospital in town to see if she had been injured, tried the animal shelter and the most horrible thing was when I was told to come back every day to check the dead on arrival binder to see if she had come in that way.<br />
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Malie is a very sweet tempered dog, she is silly in many ways like how smaller dogs that bark at her frighten her and for some reason balloons frighten her as well. But besides that she LOVES people and would do just about anything for you to scratch behind her ears or belly. I came to terms with having to leave without knowing where Malie was, if she was alive or not, and left for Texas to meet up with my husband. Even though Malie had a microchip we just had this feeling she was alive and someone fell in love with her and kept her. She's just too big of a dog and stands out with her markings to have been hit by accident, at least that's what we thought. I was heart broken, and so was my husband, especially since our move to Texas meant he finally got to be with me and Malie after so long and get to play with Malie and walk her with me.<br />
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As I was driving through Arizona I got a call from the Baldwin Park, CA) animal shelter in my home town. Malie had been found safe and sound! My in-laws picked her up and have been housing her ever since (in Modesto, CA), now it's just a matter of how we can afford to bring Malie here.<br />
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She weighs over 90 pounds already which makes flying in cargo on domestic airlines pretty impossible from what I have researched. My husband and I share a car, so me leaving to take a round trip to CA by myself will not only be hard, but expensive, especially with the $700 deposit our apartment needs in order to have our dog live with us on top of such a long road trip. We don't know how long it will take us to save up that kind of money, and have thought we may just have to give up Malie to another loving home because we just can't afford to bring her here to us.<br />
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We hope that Pilots n Paws can help us bring our puppy home, we miss her dearly and it's so heartbreaking to even think that we may just have to give her up. She is such a wonderful dog, she is so smart and gorgeous, I miss the way she howls good morning, the way she puts her paws on my shoulders and licks my face every morning, the way she needs to sit so close to me when I brush her and the way her doggie face lights up and tail wags so fiercely when she sees her leash and knows she and I are going on a walk.<br />
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She's more than a dog to me, she's a part of the family, and after all the time my husband and I have spent apart, I was looking forward to the new special moments we would have as he and Malie FINALLY got to spend more than a couple weeks together, and how the 3 of us would spend so much time becoming a closer family.<br />
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Dog is man's best friend after all.<br />
-Jessica L******<br />
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Following this email exchange amongst AMAL affiliate Rescues, we got a response from Tom & Tina Dunn, <strong>Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Southern California</strong> who cover the Baldwin Park Shelter and Tina established the dog was not at the shelter, it was later discovered Mallie had been reclaimed by Jessica’s in-laws in Modesto and they were keeping her but transport to El Paso and back to her Humans was an issue – enlisted soldiers do not make much money, so AMAL started doing what we do – get dog to the home she belonged in. <br />
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Then things started to get organized.<br />
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FROM: <strong>AMRSoCal</strong><br />
If you are able to get in touch with the owners, let's get a few contact numbers and we can begin to arrange to transport Mallie to El Paso, if that is what is needed to help her.<br />
Tina Dunn<br />
<strong> Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Southern California</strong><br />
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I have requested D*** (<strong>Pilots and Paws</strong>) to send me the contact information on Jessica in El Paso, and her in-laws in Modesto. Sue Adkins, <strong>Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Arizona</strong>, is also in touch with D****, because Sue is coming to Malibu. The biggest problem right now is getting Malie from Modesto to Malibu for Sue to pick up. I will definitely keep you in the loop. Thanks for your offer to help.<br />
Florence T. Robinson<br />
<strong> Louisiana Alaskan Malamute Protection (LAMP)</strong><br />
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TO: AMAL<br />
Looks like transport is confirmed from Simi Valley (AMRSOCAL) to Malibu at this point and a flight from Tucson to El Paso is being scheduled. Paws crossed that all goes as planned...<br />
Sue Adkins<br />
<strong> Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Arizona</strong><br />
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TO: AMAL July 2011<br />
Several weeks back I posted about a dog in California that needed help getting to her military family in El Paso, TX. Tina Dunn, <strong>Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Southern California </strong>and Sue Adkins, <strong>Alaskan Malamute Rescue of Arizona</strong> both played a really big role in this dog being reunited with her family. <strong>Pilots n Paws</strong> got her from Modesto to Tina Dunn who boarded her in Simi Valley and then drove her to Malibu where Sue Adkins picked her up and drove her to Tucson. <strong>Pilots and Paws</strong> then drove her to El Paso. They couldn't fly because of the wild fires. Below is a link to a Youtube video of her amazing journey. The Pitty in the video belongs to the daughter of the <strong>Louisiana independent rescuer</strong> who initially contacted me for help. Thanks so much Sue and Tina! It wouldn't have happened with out you.<br />
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To see a photo montage of Malie's long road home check out this:<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr1ltPjeOWU"><strong><span style="color: yellow;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr1ltPjeOWU</span></strong></a><br />
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Florence T. Robinson<br />
<strong> Louisiana Alaskan Malamute Protection (LAMP)</strong><br />
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Again, <strong>AMAL</strong> has lived up to its slogan: <br />
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Edited to add: Please read the comments. This is NOT an unusual situation.</div>
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The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-57400020101784642842011-05-27T13:22:00.003-05:002011-05-27T19:21:39.634-05:00A SIMPLE RED STRIPE OF CLOTH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">MEMORIAL DAY 2011</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was born in 1945 and although female, was named after a boy, a Marine killed by a sniper’s bullet during the mop up of Guam, Billy Belden of Horton, Michigan. A simple small town boy, a friend of my brother, a student of my father, a kid who hung out at my parent’s house, joining them for meals during the depression. I grew up on stories of Billy, Todd Wickins, and the Leggit boys all who enlisted to fight the war. In my heart I am a Marine Family. I have a step-son and a nephew who are inactive Marines.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As a child I remember watching active and inactive Marines marching in their dress blues in the Memorial Day and July Fourth Parades in my home town. Watching the Marine Corps bands performing in various venues, tears always come to my eyes when I hear the Marine Hymn. I learned at an early age that those flashy red stripes running down the seam on their blue pants is not a standard part of the uniform but are “Blood Stripes” earned by having been in combat. An honor to wear and worn with humility. Thanks are due from each of us who stayed home and remain free because they did their duty around the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the years progressed, watching Marines march, slowly the number of Blood Stripes disappeared as the veterans aged and no longer marched. New recruits took their place. By the 50’s you would only see a few of the Marines with those bright red stripes on their pants.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then came the 60’s and more and more Marines were sent into battle – but that was an era where wearing your uniform was not so popular for the inactive Marines. Actually any uniform was not casually worn because of the reaction of many of the general populace forgetting whose sacrifice permitted them the right to still protest. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The active duty Marines still proudly wore their full dress blues and the number of blood stripes began to increase in numbers – but fewer and fewer citizens knew the significance. They were more concerned with upward mobility, buying the bigger home, the new car, the ‘right’ label clothes than respecting and understanding those blood stripe wearing Marines allowed them to live the good life and keep up with the Jones’.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Over the last few years the percentage of Marines marching wearing blood stripes has increased – way too quickly. When any contingent of Marines march almost every man now wears blood stripes. They have served their time in hell and have gotten home safely, this time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other day, I saw on TV the return of an Angel Flight with Marines standing guard for the flag draped casket to be moved for that Marine’s last journey home. All the Marines in attendance wore blood stripes. The Marine Hymn solemnly played and in my living room I stood and cried. Not just for that fallen hero returning home, or for the Wounded Warriors we see regularly on TV, healing from their wounds, but also for Billy, and for all of those who have not only fallen, but served with honor since 10 November 1775.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">But on a personal note – especially on this Memorial Day while I remember and honor all services and all who have served our country and defended the Constitution of the United States I especially honor a teenager from a small town in Michigan, who rests I know not where, almost totally forgotten. Thank you for your service. Semper Fi, Billy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-77395331038076487442011-03-05T04:04:00.001-06:002011-03-05T10:14:50.187-06:00It is March 5, 2011 The Day of DreamsToday begins the start of the Iditarod Sled Dog race from Anchorage to Willow to Nome. <br />
<br />
Dreams not of just the glory of winning the race, but of what was and what can be done when a team of 16 dogs and one musher take on all the Alaska bush can throw at them - with the goal just to cross under the the Burl Arch in Nome with all dogs healthy, <br />
<br />
A bond not often seen in todays "It's all about ME" society of taking the easy way to a goal of personal glory and 15 minutes of famce reached by doing as little as possible.<br />
<br />
That is NOT the mushing life style - it literally is a life style. Whether it be the 1000 mile races or the 4 team 'snall' races and every length between., We fans are watching the Irod, but many of us are as closely following 4, 6, 10 and 12 dog races being run distances from 5 miles to 1000 miles. Each race is a victory of that dream.<br />
<br />
This is the perfect theme song for the start of the race today - written and recorded by Eskie deom Norway (Dog lsedding is truly an international sport)<br />
<br />
The words to the song are:<br />
<br />
Come gather young huskies<br />
it's high time you learn<br />
'bout a placed called the Dazell Gorge<br />
and the Farewell Burn.<br />
<br />
I've raised you as sled dogs<br />
I hope I didn't fail<br />
'cause we're going to run<br />
the Iditarod Trail.<br />
Chorus:<br />
And we'll march day and night,<br />
gonna need all your power.<br />
Alaska can be brutal<br />
in the wee morning hour.<br />
<br />
Now tell me young leader,<br />
are you're mind set on home?<br />
Please erase that good memory,<br />
we're going to Nome.<br />
<br />
The trail may seem endless,<br />
so I'll sing you this song.<br />
To keep you remembering:<br />
it's a thousand miles long.<br />
<br />
Chorus<br />
<br />
The winds will keep howling.<br />
The trail can be slow.<br />
25 below zero.<br />
Yukon River overflow.<br />
<br />
The coast wears you down,<br />
it's a long gruelling test.<br />
Just remember in White Mountain<br />
You'll get 8 hours rest.<br />
<br />
Chorus<br />
<br />
The trail may seem endless,<br />
so I'll sing you this song.<br />
To keep you remembering:<br />
it's a thousand miles long.<br />
<br />
Then at last it is over,<br />
The nine days in March.<br />
When we get to Nome city<br />
and cross under the arch.<br />
<br />
Chorus x2<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">God speed, fair roads and perfect trails to all out there- where ever yu are running throughout the word.</div><br />
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</div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-13972510832236802972010-12-22T21:40:00.000-06:002010-12-22T21:40:46.862-06:00MARTHA'S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK8UiZ03DNWlw0X77DrzOr4kHgp2pL4C6B5g9APXSWJObFpkGAa3S3Z-qMqJAFuxc2Otp0hN3qWqnFDne6EIUXPDMLadHJRMewqr_PCOktGoQAIH5mxVXXkuf3lCpFU_W8LJDzhIu_gY/s1600/ICY+ID+PIC++MOM_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLK8UiZ03DNWlw0X77DrzOr4kHgp2pL4C6B5g9APXSWJObFpkGAa3S3Z-qMqJAFuxc2Otp0hN3qWqnFDne6EIUXPDMLadHJRMewqr_PCOktGoQAIH5mxVXXkuf3lCpFU_W8LJDzhIu_gY/s320/ICY+ID+PIC++MOM_edited.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">MARTHA’S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE</div><br />
<br />
Martha was sitting in her living room watching television this Christmas Eve, alone as she had been for the last five years. All of her children had married and moved to the four corners of the nation, her youngest, a surgery resident at the Vet School across the state had planned on coming home, but had been assigned to work the emergency clinic and couldn’t find a replacement. Martha told herself that having Sally working to help the sick and injured animals this Christmas Eve was worth being alone, besides, Sally would be driving over for Christmas dinner the next afternoon. <br />
<br />
All the animals had been fed and now were safely in either the kennel building or lazily laying around the house. Martha had to stop to think how many dogs she had at her house this Christmas, she sighed when she realize there were 16. She did rescue and the number of dogs was always changing with some dogs being adopted, and new abandoned dogs coming in. Feeling overwhelmed by the number of dogs she had and all the dogs still left in shelters to die because there was no room for them in rescue, Martha seriously wondered if she should stop working rescue. If she didn’t have all these dogs, she could have flown to any of her other children’s homes for the holidays to be with family. Besides, the heartbreak of seeing each dog in such need was beginning to really weigh on her. <br />
<br />
Tonight she had a new dog, brought home that day. Martha didn’t really plan on adding another dog but on her way home from the store she saw a dog lying on the side of the road. Certain the dog was dead, Martha stopped, to pick up the body and take it home for a burial. As she got closer, she recognized the shell of an Alaskan Malamute, the breed she rescued. Covered by cuts and festering wounds, what fur was left was matted and filthy, it was so skinny that laying there you could see each rib and its hipbones were the widest part of his body. <br />
<br />
With tears in her eyes, mourning for what once had been a majestic animal now reduced to almost a skeleton she reached down to give the poor dog one last pat on the head. “Oh, you poor boy, what a way to end your life. Well, at least I can name you and give you a decent farewell.” As her tears fell on the dog’s head, one eye slowly opened and the tail gave a single wag.<br />
<br />
“You’re alive! Everything will be OK now, I’ll take you home and you will have a soft bed and food tonight.” She said, tears streaming down her face, this time from happiness.<br />
<br />
The rest of the afternoon was spent cleaning the dog’s wounds and making sure he was able to eat and drink water. Martha set up the large run in the kennel building for him. A soft blanket and a thick foam pad were to be his bed, fresh water and food beside him. Papers for his ‘necessary functions’ were placed at the far end of the run. He laid there watching every move she made.<br />
<br />
Martha left the dog resting on his bed, somewhat surprised at the reaction of the rest of the dogs in the kennel. Pandemonium usually broke out with all the other dogs wooing and barking when a new dog was brought in, tonight all the other dogs just stood and silently watched as Martha cared for the new dog. Thankful the other dogs were not disturbing the new boy, Martha went to the house to finish preparations for tomorrow’s dinner.<br />
<br />
Later that evening Martha went down to the kennel to check on the new boy and feed the other dogs. As she walked in the door the new boy shakily stood to greet her. As she was straightening up the kennel after feeding and exercising the dogs, she saw her microchip reader. “Well, this will be a waste of time” she thought as she ran the reader over the dog’s body.<br />
<br />
BEEP! The reader had located a chip! Writing the number down, she hurried to the house to call the chip registry and report the found dog. As she suspected on Christmas Eve, all she got was a machine.<br />
<br />
Very late that night, the phone rang. Martha answered and a strange voice was on the other end. “Did you find a dog with a microchip?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, are you the registry needing more information?” Martha asked.<br />
<br />
“No, the registry called us and told us you found our dog!” and then the man broke down crying. After composing himself, he continued. <br />
<br />
“The dog you found is BISS AM/CAN/INT CH Wasilla’s Ice Sculpture, WPD, WTD, WLD, TT, CGC but to us he is our heartdog, the love of our life, Icy.<br />
<br />
Three years ago Icy was stolen from his exercise area in our back yard. We did everything we could think of to find him, but lately we had almost given up hope of ever seeing him again. This is a miracle. We are leaving now to come pick him up. We are about 14 hours from you so we will see you and Icy in the morning.”<br />
<br />
Martha was crying, indeed it was a miracle! And the new dog now had a name, his own name and his people were coming for him. What a wonderful Christmas gift.<br />
<br />
Martha hurried down to the kennel to let Icy know that his humans had been found and they were on their way to take him home.<br />
<br />
As Martha walked up to Icy’s kennel he stood to greet her, “Icy, yes, I know your name and I have spoken to your people…they’re coming to take you home.” As she was taking to Icy, she heard the old clock in the building strike Midnight.<br />
<br />
Much to her amazement, Icy said “Thank you.” <br />
<br />
Martha thought, Now I am sure I have been around dogs too long, I could swear I heard Icy speak.<br />
<br />
Icy continued “Martha, yes I am talking to you in human language, you see at the stroke of Midnight on Christmas Day, all animals can speak. Let me tell you what happened to me today.” <br />
<br />
“I have been kept in a dark barn for a long time by some very mean people who beat me and often forgot to feed me. Two days ago I found a loose board on the barn and was able to escape. I walked as fast as I could, looking for my people, or at least for some kind person to feed me and give me a warm place to sleep before I died. I was in the middle of a big field when I couldn’t walk or even crawl any more, I lay down, knowing I was about to cross to the Rainbow Bridge. As I stepped onto the Bridge, an Angel came towards me.” <br />
<br />
“Icy,” the Angel said “If you agree, He has a job for you before you cross the Bridge. There is a very kind human who needs you today to restore her sprit.”<br />
<br />
“Of course I agreed to help a human -- that is what Malamutes do. The Angel picked up my body and carried it to the side of a road and laid it down. The next thing I remember is you were scratching my ear and talking to me and your tears were falling on my face. You have cared for me this day.” <br />
<br />
Martha heard a chorus of voices all about her. To her amazement she was surrounded not only by her dogs, but dogs she had rescued and sent on to forever homes, all voicing stories how Martha had cared for them and restored them to health and loved them, thanking her for her love. <br />
<br />
The first Malamute Martha had rescued many years ago stepped to the front of the gathering and said, “Martha, you took us in to your home, cared for us, healed us both in body and spirit then, even though it broke your heart, sent us on to our new forever families. This gave us a life we would never have had without you. Others of us here, never were adopted and lived out our lives with you, loved and cared for as if we were your own dogs. In our hearts we are your dogs. Thank you.”<br />
<br />
Then one small mixed breed puppy stepped forward from the back and said, “Miss Martha, you never held me nor fed me, you see I am speaking for all the shelter dogs and cats gathered here for which you did all you could. We understand that you can’t save us all, but you read our shelter stories, knowing we would cross the Bridge without knowing a home of our own, and you cried for us. We thank you for that. You see, we knew you cared and loved us, too. And that love helped us as we crossed. We thank you and all the other Rescuers for that small act of love.”<br />
<br />
Icy looked at Martha and told her, “It is getting late and you will have many people here tomorrow to celebrate Christmas. And you have your rescue work to continue. Our time to be able to talk to you is growing short, but always remember what happened tonight. What you do for the animals is a gift to us and to Him, the Father of us all. Each of us, animals of every species, needs people like you. Please keep on helping. You are doing the work of Angels.”<br />
<br />
At that point all of the dogs in unison said, Thank You and their voices blended into a joyous howl which echoed from the heavens to the ends of the earth.<br />
<br />
Humbly offered as a Christmas Gift to all who love animals. Christmas 2007, 2010<br />
<br />
©DustMusher 2007, 2010<br />
Alaskan Malamute Assistance League<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Icy, the ‘spokesdog’ for this story is portrayed by Wildpaw's Magical Merlin (Merlin) <date day="14" month="6" year="1998">6-14-1998</date>~<date day="27" month="3" year="2009">3-27-2009</date> waiting at the <place><placename>Rainbow</placename> <placetype>Bridge</placetype></place> for his loving owners, <givenname>Vicky</givenname> and <personname><givenname>Mark</givenname></personname>. </div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-8357264818419090042010-11-04T14:30:00.001-05:002010-11-04T17:09:15.344-05:00BLACK RIBBON: Representative Edmund Kuempel<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_p7ys8E1DTEtP65or8T9ZrtN7zYGo42zt-jyhcJBtK19ZT1TZ6hTdAdC2gXwVTSqV_AAZsi0XSUXGHfJVIE3WodKSsXoOhgxnMsQv0QC2YjxZ0qZRRlZ5uaZyxkhFbiK6uCZUzz0JNg/s1600/Kuempel1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 329px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 165px;"><img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_p7ys8E1DTEtP65or8T9ZrtN7zYGo42zt-jyhcJBtK19ZT1TZ6hTdAdC2gXwVTSqV_AAZsi0XSUXGHfJVIE3WodKSsXoOhgxnMsQv0QC2YjxZ0qZRRlZ5uaZyxkhFbiK6uCZUzz0JNg/s200/Kuempel1.jpg" width="165" /></a>Representative Edmund Kuempel (Texas District 44) has died at the age of 67 in Austin from a heart attack. Rep. Kuempel was a kind man always ready with a smile and a kiss on the hand for the ladies, a true TEXAS GENTLEMAN. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">His death is a great loss to the State of Texas, his District which I am in, and to animal lovers across the state.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Condolences and prayers are going to his family. Arrangements are pending.<br />
<br />
Below are links to some of the news:<br />
<a href="http://www.statesman.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/austin/politics/entries/2010/11/04/state_rep_kuempel_dies_after_h.html?cxntcid=breaking_news">http://www.statesman.com/blogs/content/shared-gen/blogs/austin/politics/entries/2010/11/04/state_rep_kuempel_dies_after_h.html?cxntcid=breaking_news</a> <br />
<br />
<a href="http://seguingazette.com/story.lasso?ewcd=628dd2bf508f3db3">http://seguingazette.com/story.lasso?ewcd=628dd2bf508f3db3</a> <br />
<br />
<strong>Godspeed, good and faithful servant.</strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Following is his official Biography from the State Website.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Edmund Kuempel has served his constituents since 1983, when he was elected to the Texas House of Representatives. From 1983-1990 he represented Kendall, Comal and Guadalupe Counties as House District 46. When the 1990 redistricting was complete, population dictated that Representative Kuempel represent only Comal and Guadalupe Counties as House District 45. The 2000 census and redistricting currently have him representing Wilson, Gonzales and Guadalupe Counties as House District 44 in the 2007 & in the 2009 Legislature. (editoral addition: He was re-elected, unopposed to the 2011 Legislature.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Edmund Kuempel has been an active legislator for nearly 26 years. He has been named Chairman of three committees during previous sessions - the Committee on Retirement and Aging, the Committee on House Administration and the Committee on State Recreational Resources. At the time Representative Kuempel was the Chairman of the House Administration Committee, the extension to the Capitol was being built, allowing him to be a part of the decision-making process on the massive undertaking to expand legislative office space while not disturbing the Capitol's historic integrity. Representative Kuempel currently serves as the Chairman of the Licensing and Administrative Procedures Committee and is a senior member of the Calendars Committee and the Culture, Recreation and Tourism Committee. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Representative Kuempel has been a recipient of numerous awards - the Texas Municipal Retirement System John Traeger Award, Man of the Year Award from the Texas County Agricultural Agents Association, Career Achievement Award from the Texas Chamber of Commerce, Leader of Excellence Award - Free Market Committee, Texas Chamber of Commerce Legislative Leadership Award, and others too numerous to mention.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not only has Representative Kuempel served as Chairman of several important committees, he has also served as a member of numerous other committees. He is a dedicated lawmaker, taking his elected position seriously. Although Texas has a "part- time legislature", Representative Kuempel does not consider his job part-time. He is constantly in contact with constituents and can be seen at as many functions as his schedule allows. Edmund Kuempel cares, he loves people and he enjoys being among the people of his district. He relies on his constituents' input to make the best decision possible when voting on issues that will affect their lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Edmund Kuempel was born and raised in Austin, graduating from Austin High School. He received his B.A. in Business from Texas Lutheran College in Seguin. Edmund is married to the former Roberta "Birdie" Blumberg. They have two adult children, John Kuempel and Margaret Brady. Edmund and Birdie also have a granddaughter - Rose Brady who was born in September, 1998, and twin grandsons - Will and Sam Kuempel who were born in 2004. The Kuempels are active members of Faith Lutheran Church in Seguin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
In 2009, Rep. Kuempel was awarded the National Legislator of the Year Holt Award by the American Kennel Club, and was presented the award by Responsible Pet Owners Alliance at the San Antonio Kennel Club Dog Show March 2010. Full article at: <a href="http://www.sanantoniokennelclub.com/SanAntonioKennelClub/News/Entries/2010/3/13_AKC_Legislator_of_the_Year_2009.html"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://www.sanantoniokennelclub.com/SanAntonioKennelClub/News/Entries/2010/3/13_AKC_Legislator_of_the_Year_2009.html</span></a><br />
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</div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-79818776090393109692010-09-14T03:55:00.010-05:002010-09-17T16:21:56.092-05:00Black Ribbon: CW Singin' Chris Mac Dusky, CGC (Mac) 1996 (?) to 9/13/2010<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUh01EsFllGnX9JtisggxJpbwpnnSztMbFcHFt4xLIbP24WPvJ37yxnqtPlSma9K_mvSPJtHxrUKBVnM8FbPif7xNXPNKxO_Hs7mcbLIis0L1p7v1Bqgjf3XAEBR77Ax-aPHuYmS5OAI8/s1600/Mack+head+shot.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516720507189610754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 338px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUh01EsFllGnX9JtisggxJpbwpnnSztMbFcHFt4xLIbP24WPvJ37yxnqtPlSma9K_mvSPJtHxrUKBVnM8FbPif7xNXPNKxO_Hs7mcbLIis0L1p7v1Bqgjf3XAEBR77Ax-aPHuYmS5OAI8/s200/Mack+head+shot.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFfjP5ug9ZfolnQRLSPjNOr6PwZFE15emz__aoCB39qIvMbKz2rJzLp1-7lMwe3IoQoKEkzfLt76vTTmTfwIV4GAoUSSgO1wcjbAWRAzGUWZrpCwHhxlE4EZWgs2DZyKn4vrt24Ul5Ak/s1600/Black_Ribbon_EN.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516719634039595074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 120px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 167px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFfjP5ug9ZfolnQRLSPjNOr6PwZFE15emz__aoCB39qIvMbKz2rJzLp1-7lMwe3IoQoKEkzfLt76vTTmTfwIV4GAoUSSgO1wcjbAWRAzGUWZrpCwHhxlE4EZWgs2DZyKn4vrt24Ul5Ak/s200/Black_Ribbon_EN.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="left">Today, I had to say good-by until we meet again to my heart dog, Mac. Mac was adopted in 2000, pulled from a kill shelter on his last day by Betty Christianson in Dallas. As far as we could tell by the many dog-fighting scars that most likely Mac had been used as a bait dog for a Pit Dog Fighting Ring. If this was his past life - he left it far beind, never again to show any agression to man nor beast. As his Aunt Florence described him, Mac was a perfect gentleman. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">Mac 'worked' for many years attending Dog Shows, pet events as a breed ambassador, and four Malamute National Specialties, being in the Rescue Showcase in 2002. He and his lady friend, PatsyCline traveled the nation with Tom and me and later Aunt Florence on our many trips in the RV. He loved going to events and would lay on the floor with an ear to ear smile as half a dozen kids crawled all over him.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">His Aunt Lynne has said he was a perfect Malamute, at lest as far as his temperament and personality and inteligence was concerned. Conformation - well - he was a well put together 'Old Style" dog. Large - and the biggest part of him was his heart. Mac earned his ILP (now PAL) registration with the AKC the 'hard' way - by a in person inspection by AKC judges at one of the Houston Dog Shows, then earned his Canine Good Citizen title the frist time we took the test, at an RPOA event.</div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">We have no idea how old he actually was - when I got him in 2000, he was at best guess, at least 4 years old - but until the last few days was happy and active. When his back legs gave out on him and could not walk he happily spent his days watching TV and eating treats. That is not to say he could not get around - he would scoot around the RV and let his needs and wants clearly known to any and all humans in his sight. (Including the fact he did NOT like football games.)</div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Mac would not bark - he lived with me three years until I heard a sound out of him - and then it was a howl responding to a Malamute 'singing' on my computer. After that, he only barked about 4 times, and NEVER if you were looking at him. That is except for the night Ashley and Jason brought fried chicken over to the house- he KNEW they brought the food for HIM - to the point I put him in the next room behind a baby gate so he wold not steal the whole box of food. He let us know loudly, and incessantly that chicken was HIS! He managed to con us out of several pieces. Food was Mac's favorite thing in life - tonight Jason and I went to a local BBQ place and we saved Mac some of the BBQ's beef and sausage and bought him an order of french fries. Mac did share a small taste for Patsy, but enjoyed his BBQ dinner more than most of us would a dinner at a 5 Star Resturant.</div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">The greatest gift Mac brought to me was JOY, a pure love of life - whether it was taking trip in the car of RV, a walkabout when he found a weak point in the fence or just sunbathing on the cement driveway in the 100 degree Texas heat. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">A very special soul who arrived at my house so skinny (less than 60 lbs- literally skin and bones) that we were not sure he was even a Malamute - healed to a glorious well conditioned 115 lb true Mal in all respects. The highest praise given by mushers to working dogs - and even though Mac never pulled a sled - or ever earned any working titles -my weaknesses not his - Mac deserves the highest honor one can bestow - he was an HONEST dog.</div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">I have to give a special thanks to the entire staff of County Line Animal Hospital, in Adkins, TX who have been my vets for many years. They are truly caring people and not only love animals, but care about the owners. Dr. Joseph Miga took care of Mac. Three months ago when Mac was loosing the use of his hind legs, the day I brought Mac to the clinic to be put to sleep, Dr Miga really did pull out a magic wand - powered by an amazing amount of knowlege, mixed with the ability to 'think outside the box', always with the best interest of the animal in mind. And Dr. Miga was there today helping Mac across the Bridge. For the rest of the staff--you will never know how much the hugs and the kind words helped me get through the day. The little things you did, are VERY big. Thank you all! Mac left this world, surrounded by me and family and LOVE. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">My heart breaks tonight, missing my Mac-man, but I am comforted knowing he no longer is in pain, and again runs free and restored to health at the Rainbow Bridge.</div><br /><div><br /></div><div align="left"></div><div>We will be together again, my baby boy. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left">Mom.<br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">A Legend:</span> </div><div><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>WOLF’S WELCOME TO THE RAINBOW BRIDGE<br /></strong><br />Welcome. I am Wolf Stout Heart, Seventh Year Resident of the Rainbow Bridge.<br /><br />This is your introduction to the Rainbow Bridge. I have been a resident here for a little over 7 years and am a member of the Welcome and Orientation Committee, Wolfdog and Northern Breed Division. I have the extreme honor of escorting you North of the Rainbow Bridge where those of our kind wait.<br /><br />You have already received your Silver Harness, and it looks so good on you. Now, let us begin our journey.<br /><br />As you see there are fields of sheep and cows for the herding dogs, and over there are the lakes, marshes and fields for the hounds and sporting dogs to play. Oh; And here are Beau and Sam, the Goldens we lived with -- we visit often, after all we all have loved and are waiting for the same Humons. {<span style="color:#ffff33;">This is CW Singin’ Chris MacDusky, CGC. Also known as Master Gunnery Sgt. Mac MacDusky. OGP, of the MRM, Marine Recon Division, Texas Contingent. </span>See ya later, guys. We are on our way North.}<br /><br />Oh, look! The agility games are going on. And here is one of the newer areas at the Bridge and they have just finished the Rally field--this time with the directions for each station written in Dog.<br /><br />All the areas at The Bridge are for all the animals here and we have a lot of fun together. I have even seen some of the cats at the swimming ponds.<br /><br />See that area over there? Where the sun shines bright and warm all the time and there is a gentle mist for a few hours each day? That is where all the reptiles and amphibians are. They all have nice tree limbs and warm rocks to lounge on.<br /><br />But let's continue North.<br /><br />Oh, check out those hedges and trees – that is where the bunnies and the mice, rats, gerbils and ferrets are. I like to come down and watch them play; they just have so much fun –the flurry of activity and squeaking for joy when one of their Humes is coming is a treasure.<br /><br />Now watch your step, this is the Large Animal area. Occasionally all the horses, mules, donkeys, even the cows and goats get a little carried away with the Herd Running Game and can give a smaller critter like us quite a surprise as they break the hill at full gallop. Even the pigs and chickens take part.<br /><br />As the hills get a little steeper and woods a little thicker it is so much fun to run full speed, up and down the hills dodging the trees. Here you will see the ‘exotic’ animals. The tigers and lions and bears and wolves, all the animals thought of as wild but have hearts shared with humans. They, too, will cross the Rainbow Bridge with their special person.<br /><br />But our journey carries us further to the North.<br /><br />You feel the air getting crisper? And look, your coat is fuller and your Silver Harness shines brighter. We are getting close.<br /><br />Now, step carefully, we are crossing the Crystal Bridge. Here, the weather is always clear, the snow just the right depth and the trail, perfect.<br /><br />Since we have arrived during the afternoon, I can show you some of the activities we have. The Northern Breeds have many interests and enjoy many different games. I know you are used to having a Hu-mon to hook your harness to the sled or cart but your Silver Harness has magic and will hitch to what ever you want.<br /><br />Over here is the Weight Pulling arena. We have both wheeled carts and sleds. And yes, there are a lot of other breeds up here pulling. The cart always has just the right weight and you always complete the pull. Even though the Humes aren’t there to cheer you on we all gather around and woo you on to victory.<br /><br />The Sammies are over there herding reindeer, and there are open streams for the Inuits and Greenlands to fish for salmon.<br /><br />The Malamutes came up with a great idea that has now become a tradition with all the breeds. Each year during that Breed’s National Specialty there is a Rainbow Bridge Specialty Show. All the dogs who had show careers and those who just wanted to be a show dog enter the show ring and go around one more time. The Malamutes have gotten permission to have visitors from Heaven during that time. Humes who have no dog with them are allowed to come visit and watch the show. Judges and Stewards come and take part. And the old breeders come to see how the breeds are developing and visit with their great-great grandpuppies. All the dogs participating the first time get their Silver Rosette. You see, every dog here is perfect.<br /><br />If you look around you see not only are there warm straw beds to rest on, but houses with soft sofas and fireplaces to just lounge on and swap stories. Many of the residents wait here for the night.<br /><br />That is the time all of the Northern Breed dogs assemble. Each night the team is formed up and they run. They can be seen from earth as the Northern Lights and now we are getting members from the Southern Hemisphere, they run to the South Pole of earth to give them lights, too.<br /><br />Each March is a special run. That is when the Iditarod is run on earth and all the dogs who have raced team up together for a special display. Many of them are cheering on their Humes who are racing. Many of them have family members on the trail. It seems that the Alaskans and the Sibes work their hardest to see who can make the most spectacular light display. However, always are the Malamutes - led by the '94 Storm Kloud Team - the only all AKC Malamute team to enter the Iditarod, but joined by <strong>all</strong> of the Malamutes from the past thousands of years.<br /><br />Well, I think you are pretty well acquainted with the Rainbow Bridge and North. There are just a couple of other things you should know.<br /><br />You are able to see your Humes when you miss them most. They may have gotten a new dog. That is good. It means they have started to heal from the loss they felt when you left. But remember, a part of your heart remained with HER to replace the part of her heart she gave to you.<br /><br />Now, occasionally, your Hu-Mom may be particularly sad and missing you. You are able to send your love to her any time. She will feel your love. It may be as a shadow in the corner of her sight, or the soft sound of your woo, or a gentle breeze caressing her cheek. And it will bring her comfort.<br /><br />And there is one special night, Christmas Eve. All the animals waiting for a special person gather together and send their gift of love to their persons. That night we are able to speak to your person's heart and if she looks closely there is a star shining particularly bright. Just for her from you.<br /><br />Oh, I see the sun is setting and you are looking at all the dogs gathering in team. Go, and run. It is your night.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Godspeed.<br /></span><br /><br />Bilinda Marshall<br />December 2003<br /><br />Associated links:<br /><a href="http://www.petloss.com/">http://www.petloss.com/</a><a href="http://www.sibernet.org/memorial/north.html">http://www.sibernet.org/memorial/north.html</a><a href="http://www.geocities.com/Petsburgh/Yard/5541/aurora.html">http://www.geocities.com/Petsburgh/Yard/5541/aurora.html</a><br />And Pictures of tonight’s Aurora<br /><a href="http://www.aurorawebcam.com/">http://www.aurorawebcam.com/</a> </div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-38154917564064793162010-09-01T03:17:00.002-05:002010-09-01T03:23:02.259-05:00VICTIMS AND SURVIVORS<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />I do have a BIG problem with most victim advocacy groups and those who run them -- starting with the name -- VICTIM.<br /><br />The general tone of the “groups" is to verify the victim status which has a LOT of psychological and psycho-social baggage hung on it - not the least of which is an attitude that the 'victim' will always be victimized and the only way to cope with life is to just give up or become an aggressor. The whole ‘once a victim, always a victim’ mentality. <br /><br />Ask someone who has been raped - the vast majority will FOREVER class themselves as a rape victim.<br /><br />Victims can easily be manipulated. Victims can be convinced they will never really be able to be in charge of their own life again. Victims are told they really are only the effect of what happens in their world. Victims in a group therapy situation almost always are trying to convince each other that they are the most damaged. Whatever they do for the rest of their lives - it is ALWAYS shadowed by the fact they are a victim. <br /><br />Victims are convinced, that to 'get better' they need to learn to strike out first and hard and that because they are victims, they know better than anyone who is not a victim how the world should be, and just what is right and proper. It is the right of the victim because they know suffering they MUST prevent suffering of anyone or anything which is too weak to protect themselves. Victims live a life of. . . well a professional victim. Seldom do they ever become a survivor. <br /><br />Survivors are living life as productive forward looking people with a positive view of the future and capable of making positive changes or preserving the good in society. Whatever trauma which could have become the vehicle of being a victim is faced and learned from. To the survivor that episode is still a part of their life, but the strangle hold is gone and that episode is just another of the bad things which happen in anyone’s life, to be learned from and from the healing process makes the survivor stronger. No longer the center of the persona, the survivor moves on and continues growing, looking on the episode rarely, but views it as a positive force, much as fire is needed to strengthen steel and refine gold.<br /><br />The power seeking manipulators of the world seek out victims, and work at convincing all they come into contact with that they have been victimized. It is a power game. In totalitarian or utopian groups or societies these follower victims are referred to as 'useful idiots'. <br /><br />I am not speaking from theory - I am a survivor. I have had many episodes which could have convinced me I was a victim. I hit a deer riding a motorcycle - messed up my knee and had a serious fib-tib fracture of my leg - several operations and many months of therapy later, I walk mostly normally. I have been raped. I have had my husband die much too young after 5 years of knowing he could die any day. I have had my home foreclosed after loosing the ability to practice nursing in a hospital ER following an auto accident when I was hit while sitting at a stop light. I am technically homeless.<br /><br />What makes me a survivor? These and many other episodes have refined me by fire. I learned if you want to kill a deer - a rifle is much safer. I practice situational awareness - and listen to my gut feelings about people and situations. I know how to defend myself from violent attacks - physical and non-physical - in many ways ranging from avoidance through lethal force. I am a survivor - but that is not my 'profession' - I have made the decision to be a helper - to teach others how to be a survivor.<br /><br />Situational awareness makes me stay as far as possible from the professional victims and their users.<br /><br />I guess there is no point in this post, except to maybe be able to recognize the personality types I mentioned. And to let anyone know that becoming a SURVIVOR is a conscious decision the person must make; then work at integrating that episode into your life to extract the lessons learned and to let go of it.<br /><br />Becoming a professional victim is not learning and letting go - but you do get a lot of sympathy and encouragement while you are being used. It is so much easier!<br /><br />Thanks for hearing me out. . . I will now go back in my crate and be a nice quiet doggie. I do have a quote which is part of my being as discussed in my blog entry named <em>Touchstones and Wise Words</em> which I remember in any confrontation and should give fair warning to me any who may threaten me: <strong>"The problem with small furry creatures in a corner is that, just occasionally, one of them is a mongoose."<br /></strong></span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-73532689809343788582010-07-09T12:32:00.006-05:002010-07-09T13:28:16.466-05:00CIRCUS MEMORIES-not the normal go see the elephants<span style="font-family:verdana;">I got an email from a friend who told some tales of their life with the cIrcus leading me on a trip down Memory Lane.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When I was very young, I had a special love for the circus - that was in the day of the Big Top. One of my mother's high school friends had married the Train Master for Ringling’s and we would visit Mr. & Mrs. Milton every winter when we went to Flordia over Christmas school break. Most years they would have a party to which we were invited. I had the honor of meeting some of the nicest people and claim the 'Doll Family" as family acquaintances and have visited their home. As a 3 to 5 year old I LOVED going over there -- the whole house was MY size.<br /><br />When the circus was in town we would always go and would visit the Sideshow to see the Dolls - I remember standing and watching their 'show' and, as the rest of the crowd moved on to the next show in the tent, we stayed as Mr. Earl called out to my mother by name - and then came down to the edge of the stage and as he and my parents had a conversation and they would send someone off to find Mrs. Milton to let her know we were there. One year Mrs. Milton took us backstage and between shows were invited to their quarters and then she decided I needed to see a real circus - that day was magical! We got seats front row, center ring, and Mrs. Milton sat with us and explained to me what was going on and pointed out when someone I had met was performing, some in many acts - she had preformed for many years, at least as an Elephant rider, Aerial Ballet, and Iron Jaw - I remember her saying, “no one gets a free ride with the circus - we all work”.<br /><br />A couple years later was the last year that Ringling's came to town under the Big Top, and my parents took me down and I got to stay up all night (at least in my world) and got to watch them set up. And I was invited to eat with the crew in the food tent. I was able to meet the elephants and hug an elephant leg, tossed treats to the big cats, and pet a lion, fed carrots to the Liberty Horses and generally got a full tour of back stage, meeting people and animals. Met Emmett Kelly AND Weary Willie - and was able to wrap my head around person/persona - a concept which has served me well though my life.<br /><br />That was the year the Michigan State Champion Woman's AAU Basketball Team (1929?) had a reunion organized by my mother - date chosen because 2 of the team members were in town with the circus - the other lady ran the cotton candy concession on the Circus Midway. I really regret that I was not able to attend, as the Champion Athlete was one facet of my Mother I never really got to know except in photos, newspaper articles and some stories, mostly retold by my father who was as proud of Mom's achievements as his or the teams he coached.<br /><br />One evening at the Milton's home several of their friends (mostly performers but some of the support crew) were over, and somehow, they began reminiscing about the years on tour. . . I wish I could remember all of that evening - at that age I had NO idea how much history was sitting in one room - and how open they were with 'outsiders' present. Somehow, the conversation drifted into the sadness -- Mrs. Milton had ridden an elephant in the Grand Parade at the beginning of the show and she sat there with tears streaming down her face when she told how 'her' elephant had died during the menagerie fire (must have been the '42 fire because they were on tour). </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The discussion turned to the '44 Hartford Big Top fire - it turned into a therapy session - each and every one telling their view and experiences of that disaster and retelling the acts of heroism they witnessed by other members in the Circus - never mentioning their own actions. Most of them told how the performance had been routine. Then they heard the band start playing the <strong>Stars and Stripes Forever</strong> - in the Circus world, called the <strong>Disaster March</strong>. (Recalling that memory, I now understand WHY every time I hear that song, which I love by the way, I cry - I relive the emotions in that livingroom in Sarasota on that night.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">All of them agreed that the real unsung heroes were the Big Cat trainers (Court and Tovars) - the Cats were in the ring when the fire started and though the cats were beginning to panic - the trainers kept them under control and got the cats out of the tent and safely secured in their cages before they could harm anyone.<br /><br />The Wallendas were on the high wire doing their act (I had to check this on line to confirm my memory of the names) and first saw the fire, calling the alarm - but that was the only nice thing I ever heard about that family. From what I remember hearing, they came down their ropes (?) left the tent and hid in their trailer for the duration of the disaster.<br /><br />My Friend - I thank you so much for your post which triggered these memories which laid dormant for so long - and again made me realize how blessed I was from childhood for parents who provided me with experiences far beyond that which most kids growing up in the late 40's and 50's in a very small town in rural Michigan could even dream of doing. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The greatest lesson for me was to judge people on WHO they are not what persona they project or what job they have or any of the other outward appearances -- it is what is inside the person that counts.<br /><br /></span>One of the more comprehensive sites on the ’44 fire. The reprint from WHITE TOPS MAGAZINE (linked at this site) is very interesting to Circus buffs: <a href="http://www.circusfire1944.com/">http://www.circusfire1944.com/</a><br /><br />BilindaThe Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-58240738909008758782010-03-23T10:56:00.005-05:002010-03-23T12:57:05.371-05:00A Patriot's Voice from the Past<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n9Q71KXLygyHPY99wGoBcmqIjrwGsZqbc3KdPSJazXH3WTIyQiv8ko491jzwtq7PRscIMQGTBWF7ty2mXfG08TsnMR2ThTx-e-j6y-uwCGpjdgSC32dK-QvKdcMiknNEvg6EVTMlivs/s1600-h/Flag+pic+w+cross.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451872343516770434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4n9Q71KXLygyHPY99wGoBcmqIjrwGsZqbc3KdPSJazXH3WTIyQiv8ko491jzwtq7PRscIMQGTBWF7ty2mXfG08TsnMR2ThTx-e-j6y-uwCGpjdgSC32dK-QvKdcMiknNEvg6EVTMlivs/s320/Flag+pic+w+cross.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;">On this day as a President who has stated his goal is to 'Fundamentally change America" signs the Health Care Bill, I believe that we all should remember a speech which was given to the Virginia House of Burgesses 235 years ago on this date.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As a teen I stood in the House of Burgesses and heard this speech. For the first time in my life, I UNDERSTOOD why and how the Patriots would be willing to sacrifice all they had and Fifty-six men would " ". . . mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our Sacred Honor." to bring forth this Great Nation.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;">May God continue to bless America and return us to the basic principles it was built upon.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">As Samuel Adams said:</span> </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">A general dissolution of principles and manners will more surely overthrow the liberties of America than the whole force of the common enemy. While the people are virtuous they cannot be subdued; but when once they lose their virtue then will be ready to surrender their liberties to the first external or internal invader.<br />(Samuel Adams, letter to James Warren, February 12, 1779)</div><br /><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death<br /></span>March 23, 1775 By Patrick Henry </span></strong></div><strong><br /><div align="left"><br /></strong></div>No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the house. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question before the house is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at the truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.<br /><div align="left"><br />Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the numbers of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide for it.<br />I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? </div><br /><div align="left"><br />Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. </div><br /><div align="left"><br />There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free--if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us! They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength but irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. </div><br /><div align="left"><br /><strong>It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace--but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have?</strong> <strong>Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death! </strong></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To hear the recording of the speech as presented within the House of Burgesses in Colonial Williamsburg by Richard Schuman, who interprets the character of Patrick Henry for The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Click here: </span><a href="http://www.history.org/media/audio.cfm"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.history.org/media/audio.cfm</span></a></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Watch this Youtube The Sons of Liberty <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slx8CCjoL4E">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slx8CCjoL4E</a></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-69030538857761377992009-09-16T12:00:00.003-05:002009-09-16T12:28:16.306-05:00THE DESIGNER DOG MYSTIQUE<div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div><br /> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I would like to introduce you to the newest very rare Designer Dog Breed – the <strong>Chaussie</strong>; a Chow Australian Shepherd cross. This is Pickle. She is so rare that there is only ONE of her breed. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGOr36ZuC940v7MwpF-OoXHdKlePXpkkc84dBu4yfRv6bMSbCRNty6FMJ_O4iR6eqBtySO_UGREC397JOyKt9f5DSrro01CjNJMS8M2BqnOXKkoQp3OCXIha5Jycly99_QhyvsoiCSos/s1600-h/Gypsy+in+the+Bluebonnets+(16)s.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382113863600843746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 371px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGOr36ZuC940v7MwpF-OoXHdKlePXpkkc84dBu4yfRv6bMSbCRNty6FMJ_O4iR6eqBtySO_UGREC397JOyKt9f5DSrro01CjNJMS8M2BqnOXKkoQp3OCXIha5Jycly99_QhyvsoiCSos/s200/Gypsy+in+the+Bluebonnets+(16)s.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOBMxwN53FYz33K4uigeAgghKPpToHuszDrbFX2aCL9rw-BlPt3_sXsUVThyphenhyphenSW63OL_ujcAQVBDQ6YyDscCF0gg1cO1ISsWEV8sWKDbwSNmzNhOZ1JryytYJwewqUSWxhrsJkA97j7dw/s1600-h/Pickle+with+Pooh+(1)s.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382113879515507154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 184px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOBMxwN53FYz33K4uigeAgghKPpToHuszDrbFX2aCL9rw-BlPt3_sXsUVThyphenhyphenSW63OL_ujcAQVBDQ6YyDscCF0gg1cO1ISsWEV8sWKDbwSNmzNhOZ1JryytYJwewqUSWxhrsJkA97j7dw/s200/Pickle+with+Pooh+(1)s.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4fRxuipNqAh29QH_NZRurG0BQEjccQn5zlOkaOg70VOWgE51wZRwM86uWG6Vf_kKXnCQUk-uo_grhey4rYUMzU0nx19HWJqWeejqko7xpOmPJrgBFj1GYmy47ZmaYoceUA2LEk5BzVk/s1600-h/RPOA+DogFest-2009+(21)s.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382113873607154066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4fRxuipNqAh29QH_NZRurG0BQEjccQn5zlOkaOg70VOWgE51wZRwM86uWG6Vf_kKXnCQUk-uo_grhey4rYUMzU0nx19HWJqWeejqko7xpOmPJrgBFj1GYmy47ZmaYoceUA2LEk5BzVk/s200/RPOA+DogFest-2009+(21)s.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>You look in the newspaper see all of the ‘wonderful’ ads for very rare and special dogs with oh-so-cute breed names like Chiweenies, Puggles, Shorkies, Boggles or Maltipoos or Cavachons or, or, or . . . the list goes on forever. Most of these “Designer Dogs” are in reality nothing more than MUTTS with a high price tag.<br /><br />I see this and wonder, “What are people thinking??”<br /><br />Well, I know what the ‘breeders’ are thinking --- MONEY.<br /><br />But what about those who actually pay out as much or more money than it would cost to purchase a purebred show quality dog whose parents have had all the health clearances needed for the breed, are whelped into a caring home, properly housed, vetted and socialized. Are these dogs purchased to pump up the egos of the buyer so they can tell all of their friends that they have a very special rare expensive dog, a SomethingDoodle or a Chiwhatever?<br /><br />Most people purchase a dog because they want the characteristics of that breed, be it a working dog or just a companion. And by choosing a dog from an ethical breeder, they are as sure as one can be that the dog they buy will have the characteristics of that breed, and will be healthy and mentally stable. They also will have a safety net for the dog if anything goes wrong and they are not able to keep the dog for its lifetime, as ethical breeders will ALWAYS take back a dog of their breeding anytime during the dog’s life. These dogs will NOT end up dumped in the local kill shelter or dropped off on a country road to fend for its self until it starves to death, or is maimed in a dog fight or hit by a car.<br /><br />The safety net of most of the “Designer Breeds” lasts as long as it takes the check for the purchase to clear the bank.<br /><br />In the very worse case, a known breed dog dumped at the dog pound will have a network of Purebred Rescues working to try to save its life and find a home for it. The ‘Designer Breed’, if taken to a dog pound is classified as what it is – a mixed breed dog – a MUTT with very few mixed breed rescues available to rescue it and prevent its last trip to the Kill Room.<br /><br />Pickle, the Chaussie, was obtained as a puppy from the largest outlet for “Designer Dogs” in the nation – The DOG POUND. This dog was chosen by my friends who were won over by her personality and cuteness – and the Chaussie Breed was invented by them to describe her looks.<br /><br />Was Pickle an intentional breeding? I doubt it – most likely she was the result of a couple of dogs running loose who ‘got together’ and an unwanted litter resulted. With at least one of the pups dumped at the dog pound. Perhaps Pickle had littermates at the shelter. It is hard to tell with mixed breeds – most likely her littermates looked nothing like her. The results of mixed breed litters are a lottery of which genes show up in the individual pups and is totally random. Sort of like - throw it in the Gene Pool and see what floats.<br /><br />I wonder what happens to all of the puppies bred by these “Designer Dog” breeders which do not have the look the breeder wants. Most likely they are killed, if they are lucky, in a humane way.<br /><br />So you want a “Designer Dog”. Go to your local shelter, find a dog which touches your heart – be it a puppy or an adult. Spend between $25 and $100 dollars and get a fully vetted and spay/neutered dog with all of its shots and use your imagination to name that breed.<br /><br />Sorry, Chaussie is already taken.</div><div> </div><div>Bilinda</span></div></div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-73530495024974180432009-04-22T11:33:00.001-05:002009-04-22T11:35:37.737-05:00FICTION -- DISPATCH FROM A FUTURE TIMEHey, greetings from south Texas. Doc, thanks for getting this BBS up – with the problems of little or no internet, and the MSM broadcasting the party line Phog, I have really felt isolated.<br /><br />I feel like I am living a novel, Lights Out to be specific. “Halffast” got it too close to right, and living in the general area that the novel is set really gives me a sense of déjà vu. This county is fortunately still inhabited by a lot of the old ranching/farming families which settled here 200 years ago and Texas individualism and patriotism runs strong through the people. Mutual Assistance Groups have popped up all over and we have a pretty effective barter system. <br /><br />I sort of became the gathering point for a bunch of medical types, and cops. I used to work in the ER at the county hospital and got to know a bunch of people and was known as a “survivalist type”. The hospital was trashed when the rioting in San Antonio moved out to the surrounding areas. So a bunch of us, with the help of the Sheriff’s Dept. salvaged what we could when the dust settled and moved the “hospital” farther out into the county into a rancher’s pole barn – way off the beaten trail. The citizens of the county all know where it is and we are working 24/7 mostly as an emergency room, but have some OR and acute care abilities. A lot of the doctors who used to work at the ER have moved out here with their families and there is a ‘settlement’ of them near the new hospital – the place looks like an RV park.<br /><br />San Antonio was hit hard when the military was ‘downsized’. The most heartbreaking part was the almost 1,000 kids who were at Lackland AFB in basic training. Without warning, their DIs went through the barracks and told them they had 30 minutes to pack up their belongings and get off base – they were no longer in the Air Force. That many kids, most were 18 an 19 year olds, really didn’t have a clue what to do, or how to get home, or even survive. San Antonio has always been known as Military City, USA, and the ex-mils and retirees living there took it upon themselves to get these kids (and any other now ex-military) folks home. They pulled out all stops and used every non-traditional means to set up transports. Long haul truckers and a very effective underground railroad managed to get about 3000 military members where they wanted to go all over the nation. Fortunately most of the folks got out of town before things went sour.<br /><br />The Police Chief in SA was one of those new age touchy-feely type of cops which can all too easily turn into a Jack Booted Thug. He had spent the last 4 years making a ‘kinder gentler’ police force, with the addition of several ‘tactical’ units. The older cops had been leaving in droves from the time he was named chief, almost every one who had their 20 years in had already retired. When things got tense in SA with the cost of fuel, lack of food shipments and frequent blackouts, the city put in a tight curfew and new regulations which to most of the citizens looked and felt like martial law. Chief MacGuy and his Tactical Squads turned into JBTs. The final straw was when there was a march to the Alamo and Federal Courthouse demanding an increase in welfare benefits and a fuel allotment. Several thousand (estimates are as high as 40,000) people were in the march and it was proceeding as most of the marches on the Alamo had in the past – lots of yelling and placards and rhetoric on the Plaza in front of the Alamo. Then someone decided to go into the Alamo Chapel and hold a prayer session. Chief MacGuy was there and decided he would be the one to bar the door to deny access to the Alamo. <br /><br />No one is quite sure what happened next. Of course this was one day the grid was up and the march was being covered by all the TV stations, so anyone who was not in the Plaza was watching on TV. What can be agreed on is that one of the Priests leading the attempt to enter the Alamo got into a confrontation with the Chief. Someone threw a bottle and the Priest saw it coming towards the Chief and tried to grab the Chief and move him so the bottle wouldn’t hit him. The Chief went down, and suddenly, the Tac Squads showed themselves. They were lining the roofs of the Alamo, the Long Barracks, and many of the businesses surrounding the Plaza.<br /><br />No one is admitting to firing the first shot, but when it finished, there were bodies all over the Plaza. The JBTs had automatic weapons and it was literally like shooting fish in a barrel. There have been no official estimate of the casualty figures, but I would put it in the hundreds – then it seems like the entire city exploded into mass riots. When things finally quieted down about a week later, most of SA had been burned or taken over by gangs. Most of the fighting had been contained to the city proper but rioting and burning had extended north up I-35 all the way to Austin, which also joined in the riots. Many of the rioters/gangs also followed the main roads into the surrounding counties. Wilson County was hard hit by the marauders, being invaded on two fronts, US 87 and US 181. <br /><br />The mass retirements from SAPD worked to our advantage, as about 150 of them lived in Wilson County and had signed on as volunteer officers with the various law enforcement agencies. The Sheriff was wise enough to use this resource as well as the military vets in the area and had established a County Militia. The militia set up a defense line just south of the county line on 87 and was able to turn the rioters back. The defense line on 181 was flanked and the rioters got all the way into Floresville. Fortunately for us, they were distracted by the hospital – the lure of drugs must have been too strong and the Militia was able to counter attack essentially ending the invasion.<br /><br />All of this has taken Wilson County back to the 19th century. Isolated from San Antonio, no jobs as most of the residents of the county worked in SA, the power plant near the county line was down for about 2 weeks but is back in partial operation and we are able to have fairly dependable power, at least for as long as the coal and natural gas lasts. The Sheriff has commandeered all utilities in the county, including the phone lines belonging to ATT and Verizon for essential services, so I have access to the phone and the BBS while at the New Hospital. Most of the homes in the County have no electricity and a couple of the locals have set up a small refinery, using the production from local oil wells mostly to refine kerosene and are making some bio-diesel. <br /><br />Fuel is limited to use for emergency vehicles only, so most of us are using ‘alternative’ forms of transportation. Lots of horses and mules, of course, and bicycles but the people have really gotten creative. I have a scooter that my once-upon-a-time couch-potato Malamutes are now pulling. A neighbor used his dog to plow his garden. The county has set up a battery exchange where they are using what electricity we have to recharge batteries – you bring in the dead rechargeables and swap for charged ones. A lot of us have solar or wind to generate some home power, and to run the pumps on the water and oil wells. <br /><br />Sounds like the whole Nation is in about the same shape we are – but I feel sorry for the folks left in what remains of the cities. At least in the countryside, and somewhat the suburbs, the people are really doing a good job of growing food and the ranchers are still producing beef, goats and sheep, and almost everyone has at least a couple of chickens. Wilson County is lucky – we had a fairly large dairy – and a lot of dairy cows- which got back in production sufficiently to provide milk and cheese for the area. <br /><br />School has not restarted since the riots and I doubt if they will reopen anytime in the near future. Home schooling or small community one room schools are now the norm. The old timers, those who have basic skills such as canning and preserving foods or sewing, are teaching their neighbors and holding classes at the area swap meets. Those who have skills and trades such as blacksmithing, leather work, cooperage and the many other skills which can keep a 19th century civilization running have taken on apprentices. Seems like the only ‘profession’ which has disappeared is the Politicians. <br /><br />Someone once said, “All politics are local.” Well, now they REALLY are local. And they are all part time politicians; the County Commissioners, County Judge and the Sheriff are about the only politicians we have to deal with any more. Aside from the Texas State Guard and the Rangers and DPS we hardly hear anything from Austin – it seems that government at the State level has gone back to the Republic of Texas mode – and the legislature will not meet until the regularly scheduled every two year cycle. <br /><br />The Governor did call a special session of the Lege, but barely enough of the Reps and Senators showed up to have a quorum – and most of them were from the rural areas of Texas. This was the first time that the Lege met that they only passed what bills were needed to adjust to the new normal we are living. The ‘sunset laws’ which limited the existence of many of the State laws and bureaucracies saw the sun set. We have a new leaner State government which leaves most of the governance of the people up to the counties.<br /><br />The Federal government and its interference with life in Texas has gone the way of DC and most of the programs both mandated and funded by them have disappeared – even welfare is a local issue. We did have some guy show up at a County Commissioner’s meeting claiming to be from FEMA and DHS but the County Judge told him that we were doing just fine, thank you, and ‘requested’ he leave the county before the sun went down. That is the last we have heard from anyone claiming to represent the Feds. <br /><br />The people really do feel like once again the government is ‘of the people, by the people and for the people. No one is going hungry here, and we all are working our tails off just trying to survive, like the rest of the country. There is a new feeling of pride and cooperation and purpose and patriotism as we try to adjust to the way things are now. I guess that going back to basics includes every aspect of life, including back to the basics of the foundation of the Republic – with all men (and women) being created equal and each person is judged on how well they contribute to the community.<br /><br />This gives hope for restoration of the America I love.<br /><br />We have an ambulance coming in so I need to get to the ER – will post more when I can get some time --- y’all hang in there.<br /><br />Remember the ALAMO 2!<br /><br />DustyThe Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-5666355055090548102009-04-20T01:19:00.002-05:002009-04-20T01:31:09.867-05:00JUST MY DAD<span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Listen my children and you shall hear<br />Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,<br />On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;<br />Hardly a man is now alive<br />Who remembers that famous day and year.<br />He said to his friend, "If the British march<br />By land or sea from the town to-night,<br />Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch<br />Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--<br />One if by land, and two if by sea;<br />And I on the opposite shore will be,<br />Ready to ride and spread the alarm<br />Through every Middlesex village and farm,<br />For the country folk to be up and to arm."<br /></span><br />Many of you will recognize this as the first stanza of The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. To me I remember it as one of the special benefits of having my Father as a teacher. <br /><br />I went to a very small school (there were 49 in my graduating class) in southern rural Michigan. My Dad had been a teacher at that school since the year I was born. My Grandfather was a Preacher and the County Commissioner, my other Grandfather had been a blacksmith in town, and my Great Grandfather had built the flour mill in the next village. Many of the kids in my class had similarly deep roots in that town. Newcomers were those whose parents had not been born there.<br /><br />This town during the mid 40’s to early 60’s when I was growing up could have come straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, at least on the surface. My Dad saw the world was changing and everyone, especially the kids he was teaching were growing up in a world very different than the one he knew. His hope was that ‘his kids’ would be able to walk into that new world armed with all the skills and knowledge he could give them. No longer was knowing how to farm or run the family business in town going to be enough. His kids, if he had anything to say about it, would be as well rounded and ready to learn and adapt to what ever may come as any kid from a big city.<br /><br />One of his innovations was a class for the Ninth Graders (Freshmen) that he called Sociology. I have tried for years to think of a better name for that class, since it had nothing to do with the Sociology classes I took in college. What this class did was teach life skills – those that we would need to go out in the world, and those skills which Dad considered important but were not taught elsewhere. <br /><br />There was one class where he taught ‘Table Manners’. Not the keep your elbows off the table and don’t comb your hair at the table kind of manners which he assumed that their parents had taught, but what to do when you find yourself as a real Formal Dinner. . .which fork to use, and what all those plates and glasses are for. Another time he showed a short movie of a ballerina and then showed game films of the football game. That class was connecting the athletic skill, grace and body mechanics in common to both endeavors. We never knew what was going to be the lesson or the presentation when we walked into class. To say the syllabus was eclectic would be to say a rainbow is just colorful.<br /><br />One Monday we walked into class and on his desk was a human skull – and Dad was not in the room as he usually was.<br /><br />I KNEW what was coming: Dad never let me know ahead of the class what was being taught, nor gave me extra help at home – if I needed help with homework from any of his classes, I had to go to Mom. He was way too careful not to show favoritism to me. There was a rule in his class – no chewing gum – I was the ONLY student who ever had to stay in the room during lunch hour for chewing gum. But I digress. The skull on the desk meant one thing – he was going to totally embarrass me.<br /><br />That day, Dad walked into class after the bell had rung – walked up to the desk and sat on one corner, looking at the skull, he said:<br /></span><br />That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:<br />how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were<br />Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It<br />might be the pate of a politician, which this ass<br />now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,<br />might it not?<br />. . .<br />Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,<br />sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might<br />be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord<br />such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?<br />. . .<br />Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and<br />knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:<br />here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to<br />see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,<br />but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.<br />. . .<br />There's another: why may not that be the skull of a<br />lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,<br />his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he<br />suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the<br />sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of<br />his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be<br />in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,<br />his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,<br />his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and<br />the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine<br />pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him<br />no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than<br />the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The<br />very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in<br />this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?<br />. . .<br />This?<br />. . .<br />Let me see.<br />(Takes the skull)<br />Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow<br />of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath<br />borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how<br />abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at<br />it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know<br />not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your<br />gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,<br />that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one<br />now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?<br />Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let<br />her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must<br />come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell<br />me one thing.<br />. . .<br />Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'<br />the earth?<br />. . .<br />And smelt so? pah!<br />(Puts down the skull)<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The students were quiet – some recognized this as Hamlet’s words, but all of us felt the majesty of the work – this was our introduction to Shakespeare. And, to my astonishment, I was not embarrassed….I was in awe, I had no idea that my Dad could do something like that and how moving it was. He then explained that in college he needed to memorize this to join his Fraternity (TKE) and he was very lucky that his teachers had taught him, from the one room school where he started and continued through the very School we were now attending, the skill of memorization. He then began teaching the unit on memory and learning. We learned how to learn in that class – and then he gave us our assignment. <br /><br />We were to memorize the Gettysburg Address and excerpts of two works on a list he gave to us. As I recall, they were from The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, Thanatopsis, The Preamble to the Constitution, The Declaration of Independence, and several other which I have forgotten in the 50 years which have passed. We were then to recite our selections before the class.<br /><br />Much to our amazement, we all completed our memorization and recitals. Little did the rest of the kids know that my assignment at home was to memorize and recite to my parents ALL of the selections. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">We all grew in that class – and much to Dad’s delight most of us went out in to this new world and did well. We became doctors, nurses truck drivers, lawyers, professional musicians, teachers, dentists, police officers, business owners, engineers, mothers and fathers, and many other life paths, but underlying whatever we did was the one piece of advice Dad gave to all of his kids, “In life do what your passion leads you to do – but strive to be the best at it. If you become a ditch digger, be the best ditch digger there ever was.”<br /><br />Next February, 2010, Dad would have been 100 years old. His legacy continues and his ‘kids’ have dug some very awesome ditches in this world and we can thank a very big teacher from a very small school who encouraged each of us to make our own Midnight Ride.<br /><br />To me he was just my Dad….to the kids at the three schools where he taught; he was Fred B Ambler, Teacher, Principal and Football Coach. <br /><br />And their greatest supporter.</span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-23561684989641223342009-04-14T00:16:00.002-05:002009-04-14T00:30:32.263-05:00TOUCHSTONES AND WISE WORDS<span style="font-family:verdana;">I am a Prepper -- but unlike some, for me prepping is not just a matter of stockpiling stuff but more so of mental and spiritual preparedness.<br /><br />I am prepping to endure and survive the coming hard times, whatever they may be. . .but I AM prepping. I will not give up without giving life that good old college try.<br /><br />As for Stuff and Food prepping, I am doing what I can with the resources I have. The how and why arguments and skills are readily available to all. Each of us can do this – it is to keep the physical body going during other than Pollyanna Times.<br /><br />At the deepest core of a human, is another type of prepping – Spiritual. This is what gives each of us the moxie to actually survive and still to retain our humanity and hope for a better world. This is an individual thing – how or what your spiritual anchor is, is yours to find. . . I cannot tell you, I cannot give you this, I cannot direct you to a list of how-tos. You must find your own Spiritual anchor – that which makes your soul sing and gives you comfort. Those are the Touchstones which make you the YOU that you are striving to become.<br /><br />But there is third area of prepping – the mental, the philosophical, those things which are the core values that develop into a sense of community or laws and of actions and beliefs. These are the things which make you a sheep, a wolf or a sheepdog. <br /><br />Here are the values which make your heart sing – or weep - at what you see happening around you. Here are your passions, your hopes and fears for yourself, your family, your country and your world. Here are the things which let you get up in the morning and keep on keeping on to improve the world around you. Here are the values and directions that allow you not to just sit staring blankly like a deer in the headlights in times of rapid change. Here are your ideals of what should be and what should NOT be. And how to make those changes or move towards that ideal you see.<br /><br />As we age and mature these values may change or refine – that is a part of maturing. They may also change in importance…that which you would have gladly died for in your twenties, may or may not be a part of those ideals that have importance today – that does not make you wrong, just a human developing through the different stages of life.<br /><br />Along this journey, we each tend to pick up quotations which exemplify who we are and what we believe. I call these WISE WORDS, and I have been collecting them all my life – some I have kept since childhood – some are new and some have moved up or down on the personal importance scale. And some I look at and ask myself, “WHAT were you thinking?” But each of them is a thread in the tapestry of who I am.<br /><br />This post is to encourage you to find YOUR ‘WISE WORDS’. Not your spiritual Touchstones, but your mental and philosophical words and quotations to contemplate and to live by – the threads in your own personal tapestry.<br /><br />What are your WISE WORDS? Please share them with those who are dear to you – and broaden the symphony our hearts sing.<br /><br />Here are some of mine:<br /><br /><strong>“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”</strong><br /> Carl Bard<br /><br /><strong>“We've taken to shallow breaths in case we should miss something; some subtle thing that lets us know the very thing we need to know to save our life. We sleep lightly in case our enemy should slip in while our eyes are closed.<br /><br />We are the watchers. The preparers. The ones who will protect the young and will try to secure things when it all goes to Sh*t. We may also be the ones who will re-build our world.<br /><br />Then again...maybe nothing will happen.”<br /></strong> Milk Maid / TB2K<br /><br /><strong>"God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions, it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty. ... And what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to the facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure."<br /></strong> Thomas Jefferson<br /><br /><strong>Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote.<br /></strong> Benjamin Franklin (1706 - 1790)<br /><br /><strong>These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.<br /></strong> ----The Crisis, Thomas Paine<br /> December 23, 1776<br /><br /><strong>Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great. </strong><br /> Mark Twain <br /><br /><strong>Your talent is God's gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.</strong><br /> Unknown <br /><br /><strong>The best way to predict your future is to create it.</strong><br /> Unknown <br /><br /><strong>"The trouble with small furry animals in a corner is that, just occasionally, one of them is a mongoose."</strong><br /> Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad<br /><br /><br /></span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-81972398253783079722009-03-19T23:00:00.002-05:002009-03-19T23:05:14.880-05:00The Winner Is In - The Race Is Over --- NOT!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeVr-G_OxHyPMUFPA7iRY8SB3o0OWoAKrSeWRZFe-ARCzFAb5CcykYLyr_LcIptIEk7MFAirK16vl5kyGiBvg-pznsRzjg3ZMEwXksQzdHxU09vmMvGss8ECQBRP_yZeJHi9gd1RgijE/s1600-h/HappyDance.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315115610012234226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeVr-G_OxHyPMUFPA7iRY8SB3o0OWoAKrSeWRZFe-ARCzFAb5CcykYLyr_LcIptIEk7MFAirK16vl5kyGiBvg-pznsRzjg3ZMEwXksQzdHxU09vmMvGss8ECQBRP_yZeJHi9gd1RgijE/s320/HappyDance.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">HAPPY</span></div><div align="center"> </div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Yesterday on the news, I heard that the Iditarod race was over and that Lance Mackey had won it for the third time in a row.<br /><br />Well, like most news reports, they got it half right – Mackey did get a Three-peat. The race is over? Not hardly. Yesterday saw the first three mushers in to Nome – but there were still 54 teams out there. This, to me is the magic of the sled dog races. The race goes on – with as much interest, discussion and angst by the fans until the last team crosses the finish line.<br /><br />Races traditionally have burning an old red lantern at the finish line. Called the Widow’s Lantern, it remains lit from the start of the race until the last musher is off the trail. That last musher to cross the finish line blows out the flame for another year and is awarded a trophy – The Red Lantern.<br /><br />If you look at the historical statistics for the race you will find listed together – the first in to Nome winner and the Red Lantern winner. Placement of all the others who ran the race can be found – but with a lot of research.<br /><br />In many sports, coming in last is a placement to be ignored or quickly forgotten – especially by those who have been there – but NOT in mushing circles. . . I have several autographs of mushers both active and retired and under their names they sign Red Lantern and the year they won it.<br /><br />Far from being a symbol of failure, it is a sign of personal success and character – that the Red Lantern Winner had it in themselves to continue on, often alone on the trail and to complete what they started even without the ‘Bright Lights of Broadway”, to show that the true grit of old is still alive, that just getting the job done IS a victory. Honor comes with finishing, not necessarily by just finishing first. Perhaps this is something we all should remember in life.<br /><br />Character is something which is common in the mushing community. Are there jerks out there racing dogs? Sure there must be – they all are humans, but I think there are a lot less of them than in other sports or in life. Mushing is NOT about the musher – it IS about the dogs. The dogs make the decision to run or not run. As Jeff king said “you can’t push a rope”. The musher must establish a relationship where the dogs want to work for him/her. Then to be in any way successful – dog care must come before their own comfort. Most mushers get to Nome and state they have not slept for two or three days – he dogs have – not the humans. The ego of the superstar sportsman does not lead to this commitment. This goes back to the mantra of dog owners everywhere – ALWAYS TRUST THE DOGS – and when 16 dogs will run a thousand miles pulling a sled for a person – well – that person can’t be all bad.<br /><br />Another story of character – Libby Riddles, first woman to win the Iditarod, is retired from racing – but still very involved in the sport. It seems like she heard about the back story of Wade Marrs, 18 year old rookie from Knik, AK. Raised by a single mom, mushing has been his passion since he was a little kid. He has run the Junior Iditarod twice and won the Humanitarian Award. Somehow he was able to assemble a team and the funds to run the race this year but, as Libby found out, the money for his Mom to fly to Nome and meet him at the finish line was not there.<br /><br />Libby knew that Mom should be there and put the word out and started collecting money for Wade’s Mom’s plane ticket. Today, we all got the word – Mom is in Nome. Libby is as close to a super star as they come in this game – but her concerns were for a rookie and his mom. This is Character. Thanks to Libby and all those who donated to get Mom there on Front Street, Nome.<br /><br />Another backstory is that of a dog – Happy – from the kennel of Aliy Zerkle and her husband Allen Moore. This is the link – </span><a href="http://spkenneldoglog.blogspot.com/2009/03/iditarod-2009-happy-story.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://spkenneldoglog.blogspot.com/2009/03/iditarod-2009-happy-story.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />-watch the videos. You will find out why Happy has become the fan’s choice for Superstar of the 2009 Iditarod.<br /><br />Nope, the race is not over – there are too many winners still out on the trail.<br /><br />And Happy needs her kiss.</span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-10346485796434274492009-03-15T21:43:00.004-05:002011-11-17T22:43:27.315-06:00TEN YEARS WITH PATSYCLINE<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">We all have hard about “Gateway Drugs” that drug which is seen as ‘harmless’ but leads to a life of addiction – well, I would like you to meet MY ‘gateway drug” </span><br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313616949956131522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1H-ydsmpVO13W0WGz_ZwUgHOH6WnAwv52hGG5LQXdlWxoxf7O8ujokAxtkPgpNjRYVf6OilbrXGLr6kzmivo_3ZOkgkK21syv_eyysJGJTEWEPIdFK6-5Z1Xvcz_wktiRG9oHkyFE65U/s320/BAM_PatsyCline06+small.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
TEN YEARS WITH PATSYCLINE<br />
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We brought Patsy our first Alaskan Malamute home from her BYB as a 9 week old ball of fluff. That afternoon, we took her to our vet for a check up; he heard a heart murmur and she was anemic – and loaded with fleas. We decided that we would take her back to her breeder and look for another, healthier puppy. She slept in the bathroom that night. The next morning, she was in the living room when I heard her screaming like the world would end. It seems that she did something that Tess, our old Momma Sibe did not like, Patsy ignored Tess' suggestion to straighten up – so Tess bit her. Face bleeding we rushed her to the vet who had to shave her face to treat puncture wounds to her face and head.<br />
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Kind of hard to have a BYB take back a chewed up puppy, so we were stuck with a bald headed back yard bred dog, with a murmur.<br />
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The next year was the normal adventures of raising a puppy. Normal IF that puppy is a Malamute. I discovered a couple of Malamute internet lists and began my education of the breed in general and with Patsy's help, the MRM (Malamute Resistance Movement) in particular. We found we had a dog that would fight a gate post at the drop of a hairy eyeball and at the same was the most loving dog we have ever owned.<br />
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At seventeen months – Patsy's cute little puppy hop had developed into a full blown bilateral bad hip bunny hop at anything faster than a walk – she hopped when she trotted. So off to the orthopedic vet – the verdict? Severe bilateral hip dysplasia and moderate arthritic changes to the right hip. The solution –Total Hip Replacement to the left rear. Three months of rehab – and Patsy was doing quite well. Then about a year later she developed an abscess on her left leg just above the hock. The implant had gotten infected. For a year she was on antibiotics – the abscess would clear up then return as soon as she was off the meds. It was obvious she was in pain, the right leg had atrophied and she was not using it. We were getting conflicting opinions on what, if anything could be done.<br />
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That year, 2002, the National was in Sacramento and a friend there offered to drive us to UC Davis if I could get an appointment to evaluate her leg.<br />
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Tom and I had driven there in the RV, and had decided that if there was not a VERY positive potential outcome if we operated on Patsy to remove the implant, we would have her put out of her pain when we returned. We were not going to put Patsy through another major surgery if it would not cure her pain. We loved her too much to put her through that for OUR benefit – only if it would really help HER.<br />
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The report from the wonderful Vets at UC Davis was very hopeful – if we removed the hip implants and all the cement where the infection had settled, there was an almost 100% chance that she would recover to become pain free and have normal function.<br />
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We left the National with the real winner of the year at that National in our RV – Patsy would get the surgery, and would live.<br />
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Patsy had the surgery and it was a success- she continued to travel across the country with us in the RV and has brought many special moments such as this.<br />
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Going to the National in Utah, Tom and I took the RV and did the touristy route. We spent one night at a WalMart (the cheap RV park) in Gallop. In the morning when I was walking her, 3 middle aged men walked by. Stopped dead in their tracks, and began talking to each other in their language (most likely Navajo, but could have been Zuni or any of the local languages) the one who had spotted Patsy put his hand to his neck and pointed Patsy out to the others. A bit later a VERY old gentleman came over to me and asked about my dog. l told him we were on our way to Ogden to National, and that she was a Malamute, and that they were the valued companions of the Malamute Inuits. He then looked at me and said, "Around her neck?"<br />
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I thought I was in for a major chewing out about those 'yuppie Indian wanna-be's' abusing traditional beliefs. I told him it was sent to her when she was very ill by a friend in CA, who is a Native healer. He asked me what was in the bag and I told him, I had been told to add turquoise and silver, but there were other herbs and I don't know what all else--you see it is HER medicine bag that Lori made for her. He smiled, and then asked if he could talk to her--of course I said yes.<br />
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He got down on his knees, reached out and put his hands on her head and spoke to her in his native language. Patsy, who will bark and bitch at strangers, just stood there relaxed, looking him in the eyes, as an equal. He told me "she is a special spirit", I told him I knew and thank you for seeing that. He smiled and walked back into WalMart. For the next few minutes, while I finished walking her 15 to 20 people, all Native, came out of WalMart, walk over to where we were, looked at Patsy and me and then went back in the store. Very special.<br />
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During this time, Tom's health had deteriorated and he was having a lot of trouble with his diabetes – many instances of going into insulin shock – with Pasty alerting me when ever he was unconscious. We also figured out that Patsy would alert Tom when his blood sugar would start to get low. She and Tom were bonded at the hip and she became his self taught Medical Assistance Dog. When Tom was having a bad day – he would take Patsy to work. She would spend the day sleeping under his desk, telling him when his blood sugar would drop. There were 6 times that she saved his life by alerting me that Tom was unconscious – and untold times, she alerted Tom to eat when he was going hypoglycemic.<br />
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Today, Feb 17, 2009 is Patsy's 10th birthday and she has led me on quite an adventure – somewhere along the line I lost my shyness and learned to embrace life with the joy and curiosity of a Malamute. For those who have seen her – you know she is not a Best in Show example of her breed – but that is only the outside. In her head and heart Patsy is 100% Malamute – a Best of Breed Malamute where it counts. She has taught me to look into the heart of those I meet and not to judge by what I see on the outside.<br />
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She has lead me to being involved in Malamute rescue and from there to work with RPOA helping Pets and Owners of all species. She had been the 'gateway drug' to a whole new world of interests (some would say obsessions) having to do with the world of working dogs – and sled dogs. Because of Patsy's influence in my life I have met my dearest friends, made many internet friends across the world – have traveled the US, gone to Alaska to the Iditarod and most importantly have had the love and respect – hard earned – of a fantastic if quirky Alaskan Malamute named CW Singin' PatsyCline.<br />
<div align="center">***********************************************************</div>Now I sit here caring for 9 dogs, most of them Malamutes, all of them but Patsy rescues. My life is centered on Dog issues - Rescue; a facination with Northern Breed dogs, especially Malamutes; promoting giving Working Dogs jobs; a fanatic about the Iditarod and all the other activities with dogs; and working for animal welfare issues (NOT animal rights).<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><strong>Hello, my name is Dust Musher, and I am an addict - all because of a gateway drug named PatsyCline.</strong></span></div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-56861412738081499772009-03-15T18:13:00.002-05:002009-03-15T18:25:13.178-05:00Ravens and Food Drops<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTHEhaQPaKUNECX2KTUhb19lzdNBFIw0PO_-6oHyZwmFFlMWrfdRLFsik8KyoMlGNXlbEF-8Cu7xZKfT8_eZMs5Wm8X3XMvgsrhOOkIEHVz-WEy8N0Cvyi5DW8QJXT5T6dVS2Wh_T_KY/s1600-h/656-Raven36-400-x-273.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313559485516374962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTHEhaQPaKUNECX2KTUhb19lzdNBFIw0PO_-6oHyZwmFFlMWrfdRLFsik8KyoMlGNXlbEF-8Cu7xZKfT8_eZMs5Wm8X3XMvgsrhOOkIEHVz-WEy8N0Cvyi5DW8QJXT5T6dVS2Wh_T_KY/s200/656-Raven36-400-x-273.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">To the Native Alaskans the Raven holds a special place in their traditions – many consider the Raven as the Creator of the world, the nurturer of the first man. To all he is a trickster, a shape changer.<br /><br />To modern man the Raven is a P.I.T.A. – a big black bird who I has been described as a rat with feathers. To me the Raven is fascinating – when I was in Anchorage my hotel room overlooked the back of a restaurant where the ravens gathered each day to visit the dumpster and shop for dinner. I would sit and watch them interact with each other and once they discovered me in the window, interact with me. I saw a level of intelligence similar to that of the African Gray Parrots I have known. Ravens also have a sense of humor – actually, I tend to lean towards the belief that they are the creators of the Arctic and they made the Malamute in their own image.<br /><br />There are many stories of Ravens interacting with the dog teams on the trail, Karen Ramstead tells in her Iditarod Journal of Ravens who traveled with her team for miles. I can see how these beautiful big black birds can be seen as special spirits. </span><a href="http://northwapiti.com/Iditarod2K8/033108spiritravens.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://northwapiti.com/Iditarod2K8/033108spiritravens.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />(to really learn what it is to be an Iditarod Musher – I recommend you read Karen’s Diaries and blogs – from her rookie year in 2000 to this year’s Yukon Quest 300 to the training going on today- she is a wonderful writher who is able to make it seem you are there on the runners<br /></span><a href="http://northwapiti.com/ouriditarods.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://northwapiti.com/ouriditarods.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> )<br /><br />However – remember they ARE tricksters – one year during the race there was a remote camera set up so a picture of the checkpoint could be broadcast to the outside. Wonderful idea and the cutting edge of technology at the time, but there was this Raven ----- the Raven pecked at the camera, sat on the camera with his tail over the lens and finally was able to move the camera enough that all we got was a nice picture of a snow bank. Maybe Ravens created the stars that elude and fight off the paparazzi.<br /><br />This year the Ravens out did themselves at the Rainy Pass checkpoint. This is a snip from an article in the Anchorage Daily News 3-10-09:<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“(Check point worker)A former Iditarod musher, Anderson hadn't been quite so jolly earlier in the day when he had to chase off a flock of ravens that tore into some drop bags. The all-volunteer Iditarod Air Force leaves the bags of food and extra gear at most of the 22 checkpoints along the 1,000-mile trail days before the race.<br /><br />These were covered with blue tarps to keep wild animals out, but the ravens saw through the ploy.<br /><br />"(The tarp) was like a bull's-eye for them," Anderson said. "Those ravens are pretty smart."<br /><br />The big, black crows on steroids were gathered along the lakeshore singing and dancing in celebration of what they'd found Monday morning, Anderson said. Between them and the foxes, about a dozen bags had been scavenged.<br /></span><a href="http://www.adn.com/iditarod/2009/story/716916.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.adn.com/iditarod/2009/story/716916.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />About the Raven<br /></span><a href="http://www.adfg.state.ak.us/pubs/notebook/bird/raven.php"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.adfg.state.ak.us/pubs/notebook/bird/raven.php</span></a><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Raven"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Raven</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />On the subject of food drops – this is a technical aspect of the race that takes several Iditarods to refine. The musher must ship out everything he will need on the trail – dog food, people food, clothing, extra sleds. If they think they will need it, it must be shipped. The Drop bags are labeled with both the Musher’s name and the checkpoint it will go to. This is a good source of information on the food drops:<br /></span><a href="http://www.ultimateiditarod.com/fooddrops.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.ultimateiditarod.com/fooddrops.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />But the mushers aren’t the only ones who prepare for the long haul of the Iditarod – many of the fans or should I say, FANATICS who will spend the next 2 weeks glued to their computers also prepare ‘food drops’. After all who has time to cook dinner and bake snacks when updates are coming every few minutes? One of the posters on the BSSD forum posted her recipe for 5 minute chocolate cake – which she had made several kits consisting of the dry ingredients in sandwich baggies and stored, ready to mix and bake during the race. She shared the recipe with me.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">DILLI’S 5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE<br /><br />4 tablespoons flour<br />4 tablespoons sugar<br />2 tablespoons cocoa<br />1 egg<br />3 tablespoons milk<br />3 tablespoons oil<br />3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)<br />A small splash of vanilla extract<br />1 large coffee mug<br /><br />Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.<br />Pour in the milk and oil and mix well..<br />Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again..<br />Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.<br />The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!<br />Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired<br /><br />Dollop of husky hair with a cherry on top optional.<br /></span><br />I have gotten some questions on choosing the trail for the race and thought this site might be interesting – the bush villages have done an excellent job of creating on line educational sites and the kids really are in to connecting with their Native roots through studying the race.<br /><br />Web site for Shageluk School Iditarod Project – interviews and history of the Southern Route<br /></span><a href="http://shageluk.iasd.schoolaccess.net/2009iditarod.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://shageluk.iasd.schoolaccess.net/2009iditarod.html</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br />I did my food drops early – frozen dinners, snack mixes, a stock of sodas. Having to choose between eating and keeping up to the minute on what’s happening in the Race?<br /><br />Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</span></div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-4799717328049727522009-03-14T02:38:00.006-05:002009-03-15T22:20:36.681-05:00Black Ribbon: Mozilla's Moose on the Loose<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiqYqbY92SFdqG4DPL55Skvui-A7NBzR-M3DMY4Dxi8YyRkivHzP46BxT896S1UQlfrB6WNb9QWMdwjXP6phyU-9vis8obFlaJ7Hc-Ed_nFcxGVAuRl-44v8XnegzFpg4H03NS6w04IA/s1600-h/Black_Ribbon_EN.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312945437899241410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 68px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 78px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiqYqbY92SFdqG4DPL55Skvui-A7NBzR-M3DMY4Dxi8YyRkivHzP46BxT896S1UQlfrB6WNb9QWMdwjXP6phyU-9vis8obFlaJ7Hc-Ed_nFcxGVAuRl-44v8XnegzFpg4H03NS6w04IA/s200/Black_Ribbon_EN.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br />Those of us active in Malamute Rescue are a close knit group across the country – we help each other out with dogs needing homes, and we laugh and cry together when it comes to our dogs, both rescues and personals.<br />Today I we got an email announcing that Mozilla’s Moose on the Loose (Moose) passed on to the Rainbow Bridge. Moose was a rescue who found his home with one of our rescuers – Vicky of Illinois Rescue. We all cried with her…<br /><br />Mozilla's Moose on the Loose 10-31-2000 ~ 3-13-2009<br /><br />One day, nine years ago or so, a pup was born into this world. Like every other pup that is born into this world, he had his whole life ahead of him, filled with thoughts of what would come - a home to love him, people to call his own, an anticipation of a good life to come. This pup was not so lucky - he was sold to someone who who should never have owned a dog at all. He was put out into a small pen, and left day after day to watch the world go by, and wish that he could be a part of it. The days turned into weeks, the weeks to months, the months to years. His neighbors would call animal control, so sad for the poor pup left alone, with nothing or no one to play with, no regular food or water, living in his own filth. His person would make small amends, for a week, maybe two. And then the calls would start again. The laws don't always favor our furry friends, and they certainly didn't favor this poor pup. Over the course of years, many calls were made, many trips were made by animal control. Finally, after four long years, conditions were bad enough to remove him from his sad environment.<br /><br />And so he came to rescue. And what a sight he was. He was skinny, and dirty, and over the top excited about being free from the small pen that had been his prison for as long as he could remember. With no fosters available, he was placed at a rescue friendly boarding kennel, where he always had plenty of food, fresh water, shelter, and volunteers to offer up the walks and belly rubs he so craved. One after another, potential adoptors eyed our big wild boy, and all proclaimed him "too much dog" - he was after all, a great big boy with a heart full of puppy mischief, short on manners, but long on personality. He was - and I'm sure he enjoyed being - a real handful. He loved the kennel - it was sooo much better than anything he had ever known. He greeted everyday and everyone with a big smile - a smile that everyone knew just meant trouble. He was a favorite among the seasoned volunteers who liked a dog that gave them a "run for their money".<br /><br />After many many months in the kennel, and many potential adoptors looking at this handsome fellow but deciding he was just too much, one warm August day, I decided that he had waited far, far too long for a real home of his own - and loaded him into the car. And Moose became mine. He was probably mine all along, it just took me awhile to realize it - after all, I'm just a slow human. And Moose was nothing if not trouble! He wanted to eat the cats, fight with the other dogs, escape at every opportunity, and cause as much general mayhem as possible - all with a great big silly "hey world, look at me!" grin on his face. We gave him Halloween as his birthday - it seemed so appropriate, as he was always playing tricks. We had FUN. Everything was fun to Moose - there is nothing that we did that he didn't meet with a "this is GRRREAT" attitude. He learned obedience (ok...mostly). He learned to pull a sled with his sister Miss, and went on many sled demos for the rescue. He went to some weight pulls - and always pulled his 1000 pounds as a novice. He learned to race like the wind in his big yard, chase and catch woodland critters, do the happy dance at dinnertime, go swimming, go on long walks in the twilight, chew a bone, sleep in a warm bed, and get belly rubs and cookies. He loved life - every part of it, large and small. And he loved his people, and we loved him back, fiercely. There was just so much love and joy inside his big heart, it seemed that sometimes it might just burst from all it held inside.<br /><br />This morning, Mark went out to let everyone outside - and came running in to me and said that Moose didn't want to get up, maybe he was sick. I threw on a pair of jeans and a pair of shoes......and in those short moments, Moose was gone. It happened so quickly - it did not seem real. In shock, we brought our boy to the vet, for the last time, to find out what had happened, if we had somehow failed him. How could a boy that we loved so much - and that loved us that much in return - suddenly be gone from our lives without even a chance to say good-bye? The autopsy results confirmed....Moose had died of heart failure. It was sudden, and unpreventable...all the love, and all the joy he had inside - his big heart just couldn't hold it and gave out.<br /><br />And so, our hearts are broken. I cannot imagine mornings without "good morning MooseMan!" and night times without "sweet dreams MooseGarou", and days without trying to keep up with my mile a minute boy full of joy. Our lives will never be the same. Not ever. And tonight, and until we meet again, the angels will be ducking for cover from my big boy in his silver harness, as he runs through the skies looking for mischief.<br /><br />Once upon a time I was falling in love<br />But now I'm only falling apart<br />There's nothing I can do<br />A total eclipse of the heart<br />Once upon a time there was light in my life<br />But now there's only love in the dark<br />Nothing I can say<br />A total eclipse of the heart<br />Turn around bright eyes............turn around......<br /><br />I'll see you in the dark, in my dreams, MooseMan. You were so very easy to fall in love with. I'll love you for my whole life, and beyond. I promise. </div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313257642405653282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLezTNeZFlV4LIyJcwfzQGLxGLLTKGKkLTKHYQLWZEVSqJ1mmhD3okla75A7bG-JRGK-NA19qmYaF2TbKnXYJEcWBBbz9rTNVoP1cMkOx5wXvdiWOucSWwEjZU7LWOjmEtwLSgelCFKA/s200/Vickys+snow+moose.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />******************************<br /><br />Dear Mom Vicky and Dad Mark;<br /><br />Please don’t cry but remember the good times – and every minute I had with you was a GREAT time. I am writing this letter because I didn’t have time to say a long good-by and a “see ya later” but things were moving fast and Lover Boy came to me and told me he needed my help on a special project.<br /><br />You see this year the entire ’94 Malamute Iditarod team is running the race watching over all the dogs there – the trail is deep and punchy and they are needed to keep the route open and safe for those little Alaskans and Siberians on the trail; and the rest of the Mals North of the Rainbow Bridge are running with them. Lover Boy looked back towards the start and saw a small white dog named Nigel lost on the trail – and in Anchorage, a musher crying because her dog had been alone and lost for 4 days. Lover Boy went to search for Nigel. This morning, Lover Boy found Nigel and started to guide him back to people who could get him to his Hu-mom, but it was taking too long and Nigel was cold and hungry and scared and all the Humes were looking in the wrong places. Lover Boy needed me to help get Nigel home safely and quickly. We did it! And tonight we are watching Nigel and his Hu-Mom, Nancy, happily together in Anchorage.<br /><br />Well with the serious stuff done – and not having gotten the time to scope out the Bridge fully, I was off to see what all the hoop-la called the Iditarod was about. Guess what I found. A musher and his team way out in front of everyone else – so I paid them a visit. Larry, the lead dog told me that his Hu-dad, Lance, was getting a little intense and agreed it was time to have some fun, so Larry and I ran the team and musher around the bush for a couple of hours – Boy THAT was fun.<br /><br />As I joined up with the Malamute Silver Harness Team, the lead dogs, Jacob and Joshua, informed me that playing with the teams was not nice – they were working, after all – and as I contritely listened, they all burst out in laughter – agreeing you had indeed named me correctly – Moose on the Loose.<br /><br />Now that night is approaching, remember I love you and you made my life on earth whole. I will hear your nightly “Sweet dreams, MooseGarou” and I want you to know I am living those sweet dreams.<br /><br />I love you and want you to know I am not gone, just gone ahead to other adventures.<br /><br />Love,<br />Your Moose Man</div>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-56174321299610446472009-03-10T08:23:00.003-05:002009-03-15T22:22:46.890-05:00INSOMNIA AND STATISTICS<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />We have gotten started on the third day of the Race and the first five checkpoints are closed. This is the time the Race Geeks start to come out from under cover. To those of us who start keeping statistics NOTHING is too geeky (is that a word?) to compile, to figure, to compare to prior years. This is what separates the Fans from the Fanatics – to be able to let all who ask that THIS year all the mushers are at least into Finger Lake Checkpoint and no one has dropped out of the race yet - I am sure that somewhere someone is checking to find out if this is the farthest checkpoint without a scratch.<br /><br />I am tracking who has dropped dogs and at what checkpoint. Others are tracking the comparable run times between checkpoints – this year, so far, the runs are a tad slower.<br /><br />Once again – the best coverage by fans seems to be the Forum sponsored by The Bering Sea School District. <a href="http://wiki.bssd.org/index.php/Mushing_forum">http://wiki.bssd.org/index.php/Mushing_forum</a><br /><br />As Internet fora go, it is a small group, a little less than 400 members and some of those are out on the trail in the race, but it is a GIANT as far as enthusiasm goes. Membership is free – just sign up and you do not have to be a total Fanatic to be a member. The BSSD board is one of the friendliest Fora going and we welcome anyone who is interested in the race – long time geek or new fan. The Board is also open to anyone who is not registered to read… Serious discussions, Talk to the Musher threads, and pure fun threads.<br /><br />One of the most fun is the Who Is Trailbreaker? thread. A poster asked this innocent question during the middle of the race last year because there was GPS tracking of some of the mushers and always in the lead was a GPS designated Trailbreaker – the crew who marks and grooms the trail just ahead of the lead mushers. Well this question came up about the time the members were starting to suffer from sleep deprivation and during the time most of the mushers were traveling down the Yukon River – not a hotly contested part of the race. Well a legend was born – and the entire history of the Breaker Family was published – including a Family Tree and their Family Crest. My favorite member is Heart Breaker, the femme fatale of the family though others favor Jail Breaker, the Black Sheep of the family and Wind Breaker the family’s gaseous pet Golden Retriever.<br /><br />One of the back stories coming out is Lance’s confrontation with a Moose on Saturday during the Ceremonial Start. The story can be read at Lance’s website: <a href="http://www.mackeyscomebackkennel.com/">http://www.mackeyscomebackkennel.com/</a> But the photo from the Anchorage Daily News should be enough to get anyone’s attention.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311550345104827666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_rKVmJ2WZfO9SLttbzTY_iFgAwYwWvZGas_ceuFez7KUljanGd3BrROucXFRfhnA6JwsK1o7xmsJEGxlk3wUGmM37F1KXzMwUQ1dAnyPceuI3yPUs2GoQ1gizWDXwNAIL72XKyaRb3s/s320/09+-moosemackey+adn.jpg" border="0" />2009 © Photo courtesy of Rebecca Keating<br /><br />Well, back to checking the leader board and tracking the Dropped Dogs – now the mushers are over the Alaskan Range they should start dropping more dogs-those which were needed for the power to climb the mountains but not needed for the speed of the Interior and the trip down the Yukon.<br /><br />Mush on!The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-65541673461344367852009-03-09T02:23:00.002-05:002009-03-09T02:34:15.433-05:00The Re-Start -- and so the game begins<span style="font-family:verdana;">There are strange things done in the midnight sun<br />By the men who moil for gold;<br />The Arctic trails have their secret tales<br />That would make your blood run cold;<br />The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,<br />But the queerest they ever did see<br />Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge<br />I cremated Sam McGee.<br /><br />The Cremation of Sam MacGee<br />by Robert Service<br /><br /><br />Tonight 67 mushers and 1071 dogs are spending their first of many nights in the Alaskan Wilderness. . .<br /><br />For some fans, they can watch the progress of the mushers on the Trail on the via the Iditarod web site tracker for the Insiders who have paid the subscription, for the rest of us we have to follow the old fashioned way – by checking often the Current Standings page at:<br /></span><a href="http://iditarod.com/race/race/currentstandings.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://iditarod.com/race/race/currentstandings.html</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />But all of us will continue to bounce between the web sites, the blogs, and the emails flying between friends following news, speculation and wild rumors. In other words – just another typical Iditarod race watched by the Idita-nuts in the Outside.<br /><br />I have lit two candles, one for the Mushers and one for the Dogs which will burn until the last Musher and team arrive in Nome and the Widow’s Lantern is extinguished….thus ending the race.<br /><br />The story of the FROG in a Sled: </span><a href="http://www.alaska.net/~freefrog/home.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.alaska.net/~freefrog/home.html</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><div><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311087064155840738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7gOgcIWwO-kJUG9LMON0wLBJ5x4S51qwcxent3GP7oWdXrVdRzqnsW05iq5Sij_BJoD9-huxcacBMoiAEu7t_i4ChrhfENM1BDV3V-wBKl6UlDAVndJHgAy6zjTxzNUtRKMJQ2iqZokM/s320/frog+Idiarider+09.jpg" border="0" />Photo by Donna Quante<br /><div><br /></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:verdana;">And Photos of Lance’s tag sled on its side can be found on Backstage Iditarod Blog – link on the left side of my blog.<br /><br />Pictures of Eric’s tag sled flipped is on the Anchorage Daily News Photo Essay of the Start.<br /><br />Off to bed – to continue the internet quest in the morning – at least I have a nice warm and dry bed to curl up in – but then, catching a catnap surrounded by my team is not such a bad dream either.</span></p>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-20227110211584712342009-03-08T01:47:00.001-06:002009-03-08T01:55:18.063-06:00<span style="font-family:verdana;">Today was the Ceremonial Start in Anchorage. Today is for the fans - the mushers use any sled they wish and the dogs they run with often are not the dogs which will be on the team for the rest of the race. Today's theme was celebrating 50 Years of Alaska's Statehood and the Honorary Musher's Sled driven by Dan Seavey, was an antique Freighting sled borrowed from the Knik Museum.<br /><br />Jeff King who is noted for being 'innovative' when it comes to sled designed went 'old school', VERY old school and ran the Start using an historical design of a Gee Stick Sled. This is a type of sled used by the freighters before the turn of the century like - in the 1800's. The musher/driver is on skis allowing the sled to be filled with freight. Remember that these sleds were designed to be pulled by freighting or sledging dogs, like our Malamutes, not the NASCAR Alaskan Huskies used today. Jeff has posted a You Tube video of a training session - notice the voice control he has of his team - amazing.<br /><br />Jeff's You Tube </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYB5dRPkmDI&feature=channel_page"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYB5dRPkmDI&feature=channel_page</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />From the Anchorage Daily News: Four-time Iditarod champion Jeff King waves to the crowd near Alaska Native Medical Center as he skis in front of a freighting dog sled during the Iditarod Ceremonial Start on Saturday, March 7, 2009. His freight sled was equipped with a "gee pole" that were used on most every freight sled at the turn of the twentieth century. According to a U.S. Department of the Interior Bureau of Land Management web page the gee pole was a stout pole lashed to, and projecting from, the front of the sled, which the sled driver could use to leverage and steer the sled. Most dog drivers still did not ride the sled, instead running besides or riding skis or a sort of early snowboard between the dog team and sled. Riding the sled-runners was used only by drivers of light and fast mail and race teams. </span><a href="http://www.adn.com/iditarod/2009/v-gallery/story/714227.html?/1521/gallery/713606-a714407-t3.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.adn.com/iditarod/2009/v-gallery/story/714227.html?/1521/gallery/713606-a714407-t3.html</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> <br /><br />One of Jeff on the Start<br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_0wcP1a0fw"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_0wcP1a0fw</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> <br /><br /><br />June’s Blog with lots of pictures </span><a href="http://backstage-iditarod.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://backstage-iditarod.blogspot.com/</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> <br /><br />Some Links to follow the inside view of the race:<br /></span><a href="http://gomush.com/2009IditarodStartpage2.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;">http://gomush.com/2009IditarodStartpage2.html</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"> <br /><br />I am sure there will be more later -- Tomorrow is the Re-start of the race - the 'real' start where the timer is ticking.<br /><br />Meantime there are questions floating around about the Start ---- Like:<br />Alexie and the camo dogs<br />Lance’s tag sled rider got dumped?</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Eric's did, too?<br />A frog in the sled</span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-43035938702938513252009-03-03T02:25:00.001-06:002009-03-03T03:15:26.021-06:00Iditarod from Texas - the insanity begins<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You may be wondering why I began my blog with a Journal which is two years old. Well, this is the week the Iditarod starts – the Start is on Saturday March 7 in Anchorage and I am getting in to my 3 weeks of living in front of my computer screen, following every nuance of the race and taking part in at least 3 Yahoo groups and at least one Forum…all focused on 1149 miles across Alaska.<br /><br />The immersion has already begun – the Idita-Support Group is beginning to arrive in Anchorage – friends are flying in from around the country while the members who live there are keeping all of us up to the minute of the happenings which fill each day this week. I am re-living vicariously each and every event. The Vet Checks, the Musher’s Banquet, the Musher’s meeting at the Millennium, the Open houses, the start and then the restart – and the Group’s Dinner at Gwinnies. <br /><br />Trying to get all the stories – who is riding in the tag-sleds for the Start in Anchorage – what dogs do the mushers have hitched that day – and which dogs are going to be on the team for Sunday’s Re-start. <br /><br />Chasing down more information from comments dropped such as “they pulled the plug on the Serum Run at Ruby because of trail conditions – too much snow”. How will that affect the trail out of Ruby for the rod? What ARE the trail conditions? The temps? How will that affect each team. Does the cold and snow conditions give an extra edge to the mushers from Kotzebue? How will the Rookies adjust – at least they have had a lot of cold and snow to race and train in this year. <br /><br />One of things I love about Sled Dog Racing and this race in particular is that is it an equal opportunity event. Men and women race heads up – there are no ‘Lady’s Tees” in mushing – and the race is not always against the other mushers and their teams - but to continue on the trail because of a dream. <br /><br />As of today, there are 67 Mushers ready to start – maybe 20 have a snowball’s chance of winning and of those the winner most likely will come out of a group of maybe a half dozen. The real Iditarod for me is with those 40 or so mushers who are there and know they have not a chance of winning – if reaching Nome first is winning – but for many of them just reaching Nome with a healthy team is a win, no matter where they place in the finish results. <br /><br />The trip itself is the challenge. One person and 16 dogs facing the best and worst the Alaska bush and Mother Nature can throw at them – and overcoming…That is the Iditarod. As I have told friends who do not understand WHY someone would do this – “If you have to ask WHY, you will never get it.” It is the Dream – the same Dream our ancestors had when they left the country where they were born to start life on a new continent – the same Dream which lead the Pioneers to walk across the prairies to settle in a remote part of this country ... the same Dream which each of us has had, to face the unknown because, well because we had a Dream.<br /><br />Basically all those technical things which glaze over the eyes of my friends and family but are totally understood by those of us who are died in the wool (or maybe I should say Fleece) Idita-Nuts.<br /><br />Thank goodness for the Internet – not too long ago the only way to follow the race was to phone the Iditarod Trail Committee’s phone room to get up dates. Now, phone calls are usually made when I know someone who is working the Phone Room in the middle of the night. I am SO glad that my cell phone service has free nationwide long distance and AT&T knows that Alaska is part of the nation.<br /><br />So basically the next couple of weeks will be focused on Alaska – but who knows what else will pop up that I will feel the need to share.<br /><br />As one of my favorite mushers has as his signature line –<br /><br />Keep ‘Em Northbound<br /><br />Bi.</span>The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-63224446935490205962009-02-28T04:44:00.002-06:002009-02-28T05:12:14.278-06:00EPILOG<br /><br />I have now been home a week. It has been a week of getting back in the routines of living with my seven couch potato Malamutes, going back to work and of course following the Iditarod on the Internet, and very occasionally on the TV. As for the race, it has been part nail biting drama, some incredible highs, and gut wrenching lows. A couple Mushers got on the wrong trail, were found and reached the checkpoint safely. A dog, Aafes, slipped her harness while in a blizzard and is still being searched for. One Musher is racing on with a possible fractured fibula. Eric was over thirty hours between checkpoints, found with his dogs, a broken sled, badly injured foot and leg and unable to continue; but alive and with his dogs all healthy. The Race leader was changing almost every time I checked.<br /> <br />I also was witness to one 11 year old girl, her father and a couple of friends, traveling the Iditarod Trail by dogsled to honor her mother and thank those residents of the remote villages who had befriended her – and to leave a piece of Susan on the trail to watch over all the dogs and Mushers yet to come.<br /><br />Then disaster struck. <br /><br />Snickers, one of Karen Ramstead’s main lead dogs, developed a bleeding ulcer and, after several hours of intensive vet care at the Grayling checkpoint, died. <a href="http://www.northwapiti.com/indexSnickers.html">http://www.northwapiti.com/indexSnickers.html</a> The loss of Snickers, to whom a week earlier I had been giving ear scratches, hit me as hard as the loss of one of my own dogs. The Iditarod/North Wapiti family, real and Internet, came together to share our grief, and give support to Karen and Mark. Godspeed, sweet little Snickers, may you wear your silver harness with pride as you run North of the Rainbow Bridge.<br /><br />Then, at the other end of the trail, the leaders were starting to sort themselves out….. And Lance Mackey, who camped out in a parking lot to be able to wear bib 13; and after beating throat cancer, surgery, radiation treatments, and as he states, ‘a lot of wrong turns in my youth’; and having, the month before won the 1000 mile Yukon Quest, running with 13 of the same dogs, crossed under the Burled Arch in Nome to win the Iditarod. The first time anyone has won both endurance races in the same year. Winning in his sixth attempt, wearing bib 13, just as his father and bother had done before him. <br /><br />That is the magic for the world to share, but I have lived my own magic.<br /><br />I have seen 17 team members, of two species, achieve feats of which legends are told… <br /><br />I have walked with heroes…<br /><br />I have gotten to know some of the most ‘real’ humans on this earth…<br /><br />I have learned what the term ‘an honest dog’ can really mean...<br /><br />I have traveled roads blazed by true pioneers and founders of this country, and of this continent…<br /><br />I have gazed on a land which exemplifies the majesty of God.<br /><br />I shall never be quite the same…<br /><br />I am humbled.<br /><br />I have been blessed.<br /><br /> b<br /><br />Eric’s Iditarod<br /><br />The Anchorage Daily News carried the story of Eric's end of the race......<br /><br />Sometimes, winning does not include getting to Nome, just getting the dogs home.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.adn.com/iditarod/race_2007/features/story/8715349p-8617342c.html" target="_blank">http://www.adn.com/iditarod/race_2007/features/story/8715349p-8617342c.html</a><br /><br />Eric references a poem, The Cremation of Sam MacGee, in this article. It is THE mushing poem and many mushers have referenced it and claim to quote it while on the trail.<br /><br />The Creamation of Sam MacGee<br /> by Robert Service<br /><br />There are strange things done in the midnight sun<br />By the men who moil for gold;<br />The Arctic trails have their secret tales<br />That would make your blood run cold;<br />The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,<br />But the queerest they ever did see<br />Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge<br />I cremated Sam McGee.<br /><br />Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,<br />Where the cotton blooms and blows.<br />Why he left his home in the South to roam<br />'Round the Pole, God only knows.<br />He was always cold, but the land of gold<br />Seemed to hold him like a spell;<br />Though he'd often say in his homely wayThat he'd "sooner live in hell".<br /><br />On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way<br />Over the Dawson trail.<br />Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold<br />It stabbed like a driven nail.<br />If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze<br />Till sometimes we couldn't see;<br />It wasn't much fun, but the only one<br />To whimper was Sam McGee.<br /><br />And that very night, as we lay packed tight<br />In our robes beneath the snow,<br />And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead<br />Were dancing heel and toe,<br />He turned to me, and "Cap," says he,<br />"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;<br />And if I do, I'm asking that you<br />Won't refuse my last request."<br /><br />Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;<br />Then he says with a sort of moan:<br />"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold<br />Till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.<br />Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread<br />Of the icy grave that pains;<br />So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,<br />You'll cremate my last remains."<br /><br />A pal's last need is a thing to heed,<br />So I swore I would not fail;<br />And we started on at the streak of dawn;<br />But God! he looked ghastly pale.<br />He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day<br />Of his home in Tennessee;<br />And before nightfall a corpse was all<br />That was left of Sam McGee.<br /><br />There wasn't a breath in that land of death,<br />And I hurried, horror-driven,<br />With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,<br />Because of a promise given;<br />It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:<br />"You may tax your brawn and brains,<br />But you promised true, and it's up to you<br />To cremate those last remains."<br /><br />Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,<br />And the trail has its own stern code.<br />In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,<br />In my heart how I cursed that load.<br />In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,<br />While the huskies, round in a ring,<br />Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --<br />O God! how I loathed the thing.<br /><br />And every day that quiet clay<br />Seemed to heavy and heavier grow;<br />And on I went, though the dogs were spent<br />And the grub was getting low;<br />The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,<br />But I swore I would not give in;<br />And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,<br />And it hearkened with a grin.<br /><br />Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,<br />And a derelict there lay;<br />It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice<br />It was called the "Alice May".<br />And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,<br />And I looked at my frozen chum;<br />Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry,<br />"Is my cre-ma-tor-eum."<br /><br />Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,<br />And I lit the boiler fire;<br />Some coal I found that was lying around,<br />And I heaped the fuel higher;<br />The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --<br />Such a blaze you seldom see;<br />And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,<br />And I stuffed in Sam McGee.<br /><br />Then I made a hike, for I didn't like<br />To hear him sizzle so;<br />And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,<br />And the wind began to blow.<br />It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled<br />Down my cheeks, and I don't know why;<br />And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak<br />Went streaking down the sky.<br /><br />I do not know how long in the snow<br />I wrestled with grisly fear;<br />But the stars came out and they danced about<br />Ere again I ventured near;<br />I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:<br />"I'll just take a peep inside.<br />I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . .<br />Then the door I opened wide.<br /><br />And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,<br />In the heart of the furnace roar;<br />And he wore a smile you could see a mile,<br />And he said: "Please close that door.<br />It's fine in here, but I greatly fear<br />You'll let in the cold and storm --<br />Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,<br />It's the first time I've been warm."<br /><br />There are strange things done in the midnight sun<br />By the men who moil for gold;<br />The Arctic trails have their secret tales<br />That would make your blood run cold;<br />The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,<br />But the queerest they ever did see<br />Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge<br />I cremated Sam McGee.The Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8263077422062926145.post-8274469781637578732009-02-28T04:40:00.000-06:002009-02-28T04:41:15.504-06:00Alaska Days 13–14, Wednesday and Thursday March 7-8, 2007<br /><br />Day 13 : Wednesday, March 7<br /> This was the last day to go souvenir and gift shopping. Found the best place to get reasonably priced Alaska goodies -- Wal-Mart. Now, anyone who knows me will understand I HAD to make a stop at my second favorite store. It seems as if my travel stories when in the RV consist of which Wal-Mart I stopped at today, so why would anyone be surprised that I had to make at least one stop at an Anchorage store? <br /><br />Actually, there was a legitimate reason to go there – it seems that the collection of ‘’stuff” I have purchased far exceeds the volume of suitcases I bought with me. I either had to leave behind everything I brought up here OR buy shipping boxes and make a trip to the post office to mail home the goodies which won’t fit on the plane. Note to self – next time I make a trip like this, forget return tickets on an airline, just charter a Fed-Ex plane home. <br /><br />I then went back to the hotel to start the packing process. I think someone could succeed very well with a cottage industry packing for visitors’ return trips home. <br /><br />That night was dinner at the Mexican Restaurant which was just outside my window. Yup, two Texans, in Anchorage, eating Mexican food. However, La Cabana has some of the best Mexican food I have eaten anywhere. The only problem I found is that ‘HOT’ to the Alaskans comes out ‘very mild’ to Texans. <br /><br />From what I have heard, Native Alaskan food is an acquired taste and Anchorage is primarily a city settled by flatlanders from all over the US and the world. Restaurants in Anchorage are a mix of any type cuisine you can imagine. Much to my surprise, Mexican, Chinese and Pizza seem to predominate. The one food I discovered and will be attempting to import to Texas is Reindeer Sausage. I have no idea if it is just sold to cheechacos (newcomers) or if is eaten by real sourdoughs (those who have seen the ice on the rivers freeze AND thaw) but it is delicious! Bambi and the Claus Team are in trouble!!!!!! <br /><br />There is a nice video about the dropped dogs at the prison. Check it out. <a href="http://www.adn.com/photos/multimedia/iditarod/dogdrop/" target="_blank">http://www.adn.com/photos/multimedia/iditarod/dogdrop/</a><br /><br />Day 14 - Thursday<br />This was the last day of sight seeing. We went north up the other leg of the Mat-Su Valley towards Glenallen to see the Matanuska Glacier. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matanuska_Glacier">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matanuska_Glacier</a> This is a active valley glacier 27 miles long and four miles wide a the terminus It flows much as a river would at a speed of about a foot a day and it takes 250 years for an ice crystal to travel from the beginning to the terminus. This is the largest glacier accessible by car in Alaska. Unfortunately, the park was closed when we got there and we had to be content ‘just’ taking photos from the Glenn Highway. <br /><br />To save time trying to describe the scenery, refer to Journal entry for Day 12 and just change the locations to Matanuska Glacier ;^) Yes, another OOOHHHH AHHHHH Day!<br /><br />On the way back to Anchorage, I stopped at the Iditarod Trail Committee Headquarters in Willow. This was a pilgrimage for me. Having been an ITC member for years, I have seen pictures of the HQ, talked on the phone to people who work there, and consider this the home for the Keepers of the Dream. I did not genuflect at the entrance, but I was close!<br /><br />I am not one who, takes lots of pictures to be labeled ‘me in front of the world’s largest XXXX’. But, in front of the HQ building is a bronze statue of Joe Redington, Sr., the Father of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race. I now have a picture, “Me, next to the Redington Bronze.” THIS is the one photo which will be printed out, framed and hung on my wall.<br /><br />Remember, “fan” is short for “Fanatic” and this Fan has lived a dream and had the trip of a life time. Tomorrow at 0600am, my plane leaves Anchorage and I return to life as a Texan….with a piece of my heart left in Alaska.<br /><br />BFromTexasThe Texas Dust Musherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13481257868076180304noreply@blogger.com0