Dirty Dog Daze . . . .

I pulled six prickly tree twigs out of Liam's tail yesterday afternoon.  He didn't even seem to mind.  

Late-afternoon bath time for dogs has started on a regular basis around the Lovestead.  

Every year, I hope that this added chore each day won't last for too many days, but it usually does. 

With snow turning to slushy mud and oozy mud forming on most walking or "racing around the barnyard 300 times a day to keep track of those horses" pathways, it' pretty hard to avoid dirty-dog duty this time of year. 

Liam is a trooper, though, so his bathing sessions aren't too bad.  He's got to be one tough puppy cuz his baths occur out at the hydrant by the water tanks. 

COLD water, for sure, comes out of that green hose, but resilient Liam stands like a statue as I hose off his legs, tummy, chest AND all that hair in his tail and rear end. 

Once the water is turned off and the green hose hits the ground, Liam knows it's time for his next ritual on our walk to the house.

"SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKE," I say. 

Usually, by the third "SHAKE," Liam has already begun his assignment.  

And, he does so as often as I ask, which is usually about half a dozen "SHAKE, SHAKE, SHAKES" before we arrive at the garage door. 

Next session:  UP!

Liam jumps up on a large dog crate covered with blankets, ready for Mom to hug him with a big, warm towel. 

I think Liam puts up with the cold water outside cuz he knows it's gonna be nice inside.  He absolutely loves his toweling off----usually a two-bath-towel event. 

Meanwhile, Foster's baths take place in the utility-room sink where warm water coming from a hose sprayer removes his dirt and smell quickly. 

Then, comes toweling, which Foster also loves.  I wrap him in a big warm towel and carry him like a baby, with a second towel, to the living room and sit down. 

Foster's face tells it all as he lies back in total relaxation and almost falls asleep as I dry each portion of his body. 

It's work each day, and I'd rather not have doggie bathing on the chore roster, but dirty dogs don't come inside the house, so it must be done. 

Seeing their supreme enjoyment with various stages of the process, however, makes it all worth it until the next afternoon when I see a whole new edition of dirty, wet hair and know that I have to do it all over again. 

It's definitely slimy season, and we always know it's gonna get worse before it gets better.  Lots of snow yet to melt on the landscape.  

On another topic, it's also "Silly Season."  Actually, I think that's been going on for a few years-----365-24-7. And, to think this year, it gets to last even an extra day. 

At this very second, as I type some woman is talking to my answering machine downstairs telling me about a $399 bill where I can call any of several numbers to find out more information. 

Yup, that damn phone rang with one of those crazy messages that----if you're not within running distance to the phone----gets to go on for at least a minute, taking up space on the answering machine. 

Answering machines, these days, need to offer more space, cuz most of those calls, if you don't shoot the phone or rip it out of the wall, will go on and on and on. 

I'm especially sick and tired of the Trump telephone tactics which happen sometimes three times per day with the promise that he's fighting for me and that he'll never quit and that we need to stop all these other awful people who are trying to stop him and to call this number do something about it, but if you want to be unsubscribed to multiple Trump calls a day, you can push 9 at the end of the message.

Gullible me.

  

I should have known not to believe him cuz one day I did push 9 and apparently did not get unsubscribed.  

Since I NEVER subscribed in the first place, I should have known it was a tactic to make sure that someone at my house is listening.  

Normally, when I shut Trump up with my "speed of lightning" punching of the "please shut up button," it still takes until he has said his full name before the message stops. 

Every day I say that I'm just going to unplug that landline from dawn to dark and maybe even bed time, but every day I think of the one real person among the millions who still calls up with something real to to talk about. 

Still, I'm thinking that if that person really wants to find us, they will make the effort. 

Anywho, I ran across the piece below this morning, which chronicles the timeline of telephone culture----from whence it came to what's gonna happen in its future. 

I still can't figure out why this all keeps happening when our elected officials back there in Washington passed a bill to stop this daily insanity. 

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/why-no-one-answers-their-phone-anymore?utm_source=pocket-newtab

  

Also, this morning especially, our Ireland countdown is becoming more interesting by the day. 

And, when I saw my friend Cass from Killarney and her beloved retired racehorse Rodney in the photo, countdown excitement intensified. 

She's riding Rodney at Inch Strand (Beach), and someone who promotes that area on Facebook posted the photo. 

Rather artistic capture, I must say.  

Ironically, this morning, my artistic friend Billy Austin from Northern Ireland posted a lovely painting of the Kearney cottage in Killarney. 

So, yes, the countdown is showing Ireland appearing more vividly in our minds every day.

Finally, congratulations to our son Coach Will Love who was named "Coach of the Year" for the 4A Inland Empire League.  

Several of his players received honors also.  Read more in Dylan Greene's story below. 

 https://www.bonnercountydailybee.com/regional_sports/20200224/driggs_named_mvp_2_other_bulldogs_receive_league_honors?fbclid=IwAR0CSK6Z6xWPajxpiafjrrt_ptz0eQmhXjuEw04uwioQriTg3YXd4mcWyN4 

Happy Tuesday. 

Cass of Killarney and her beloved Rodney.