I know you’re probably sick of them, but this is my life as a crazy pet lady and since my camera follows me, and I tend hang around a pack of mutts…this is what you get.

(Although you will get a Made Me Laugh Monday post later tonight, and it is an absolute RIOT).

You remember Eddie?

He’s mom’s crazy Boston Terrier.

Emphasis on crazy.

Well, Eddie isn’t top dog anymore at the parents residence.

There is a new dog in town.

He’s orange.

He licks things.

He’s fluffy.

And he’s even a little cocky.

His name is Chance, and he’s taken over ever since my parents adopted him from Lost Paws, a no-kill local animal shelter organization.

Chance is a good dog, but he doesn’t fight fair. He’s a bully you see. And if he can’t beat you…

If he can’t outrun you…

If he can’t out-fox you…

He’ll bite you.

Of course King Oliver couldn’t be bothered with their petty troubles and decided to stay in Kevin’s arms where he was safely out of reach.

Kevin took a little too much pity on him.

But where was Rosco the Mole Rat? He was standing his ground. Preparing for battle. Sharpening those Rat Nose teeth. Playing victory music in his head.

Who won in the smack-down between Rosco the Mole Rat and Big Bully Chance?

I’ll let you be the judge.

In memory of Koda Bear, the most ferocious, fearless, loving little Pom-Pom that ever graced this earth. It’s been three months since you passed and we still miss you little guy.

Hope you’re still growling and Pom-Pom dancing in doggy heaven.

Happy Holidays from Ollie and I.

And he is not an Iams dog.

Matter of fact, he is a you’ll-eat-whatever-dog-food-I-give-you-and-like-it kind of dog.

He doesn’t mind.

Ollie cracks me up. He stole my stuffed animal and packs it around the house. He steals my socks and hides them in his cage, but this isn’t a bad thing — it means that all the missing socks in my house now have a home and I don’t have to round them up myself. Kind of useful really. Ollie jumps at the word “go” and knows the name Rosco (his brother). He can sit, lay down, crawl and shake. And according to Grams, he can also scare off visiting teachers and the occasional mailman. He has many names, Oliver Twist being the official one, Ollie for short, and then Chaweenie, Jaws, Mutley, Hoover, Pumpa, Dog, Hey You and GET OUT OF THAT GARBAGE.

There are times when I’ve had a long day (for example yesterday, going to work and then back to college for the first time in two weeks) when all I want to do when I get home is crash on the couch and not bother to turn the lights on, when just ignoring everything for even twenty minutes sounds divine. I’ll drag my feet up those steps to Grams’ and knock on the door to pick up Ollie, and he will come bounding out the door and jump on me, and the energy level and excitement from that little dog is enough to keep me going for the night. It’s nice to have something so happy to come home to.

Ashley recently caught a rabbit and tried to give it to me, and I immediately started listing the things she shouldn’t feed it. What can I say, I am a walking index of pet advice. It’s kind of pathetic really. I aspired to be a vet, and when that wasn’t possible I looked into being a vet tech. I found a local program, but they wanted $41,500 in TUITION (meaning, not including books) for two years of school which would certify me to spend the rest of my life cleaning cages and taking “temperatures” for roughly $12.75 an hour!

Uh, no thanks.

So here I sit, telling her what not to feed Chester the Rabbit (or Sweetie as Aspen calls him) and I…well…read it for yourself. Let’s just say I’m a PET expert, not a food or spelling expert.

Ashley:
i tried to give the rabbit we found to mom, she wouldn’t take him and says shes giving you your rabbits back someday

Aub:
the rabbits i can’t have at grams because kids let them out, and mom/dad shouldn’t have to care for them.
haha yep those are going.
i dont care about the black one, i’ll miss my brown one tho

Ashley:
is this the same aubrey that wanted to be a vet tech and save baby birds along the freeway?

Aub:
bite it

Ashley:
Glade (her cat) LOOOOOVED The rabbit. he was totally rubbing up against him

Aub:
what a fag (Sorry. You’d have to meet Glade to understand that. He’s antisocial, his best friends are a pair of raccoons and he hates the daylight. You can’t help but make fun of him.)
dude don’t feed the rabbit alvacados or tomatoes, it’ll kill.

Ashley:
altho the rabbit was last seen at the neighbors house–the neighbor called me last night and says “do you have a rabbit”? um…we brought one home yesterday
alvacado???
alvacado??
answer me
dont google it.
alvacado

Aub:
avacado?
heck I dunno.

Ashley:
avacado.
much better
you should try ALvacado’s theyre delicous.

Aub:
bite it

Ashley:
well they are

My favorite part? How she has to tell me “don’t Google it”.

She knows me well.

And you thought I was the crazy cat lady.

She called me crying earlier, wanting to know if I would list her cats on KSL for her and I gladly obliged.

I’ve gotten some spam comments before. Being in the marketing industry, that’s sort of part of the job description. But this comment, something about it just sets my blood on fire, and I think it’s that I can’t decide if it is a genuine comment or just spam.

Either way, I HATE IT:

I am very interested in your free kittens. I am an enterperneur and have been working on something that I think will be huge. There are so many different flavors of dog food for instance, chicken, lamb, and even salmon. Why not feed dogs what they really want? I have created a recipe for cat flavored dog food, and would love to use your kittens to make some of the first batches that I plan to demo in hopes of contract with eukanuba,Iams, and Pedigree. When can I pick up the kittens? Best of luck and make sure you buy a bag of this premiumn dog food if you see it in stores! Paul

Wait, slow down. Did I read that right? This guy wants to cook CATS? For dog food? What’s wrong with people? Let’s just say it’s taken every ounce of my self control to not freak out on this guy. Don’t mess with my pets dude, or you’ll be biting off more than you can chew.

In other news, if anyone wants to adopt these two kittes, just let me know. They’re orange tabby females that are ready to go to their new homes, preferably one that doesn’t want to feed them to fido.

It’s the tongue that slays me.

When I talked to Sam on the phone that morning, she was sad over the loss of her puppy. On Friday night, her horse had kicked her eight week old blue heeler pup, causing brain injuries and a broken leg. The dog had to be put down. So, in an effort to cheer her up I offered to come visit her.

“Hey! You’re little sister’s wearing boots and riding jeans. . .wanna go for a ride?” I teased.

“Well, we could! You wanna ride JJ?” She sounded like she was perking up. I was on cloud nine. It has been two entire years since I have ridden, or even seen JJ, and I wasn’t about to pass this up. They loaded their horses and drove up my way to go for a casual trail ride. We drove for a while (almost forgetting to pick up JJ), pulled up next to a lush green pasture and there he was. My JJ. My best friend, my favorite horse.

It was nice to be able to kiss this face again.

We loaded him up without incident, and headed up the mountains.

The leaves were just starting to change and the air had a nice, autumn crisp feel.

I took photos of everything, but mainly on JJ. I wanted photos of him pretty badly.

Looking back, I remember being angry when I found out that he’d been caught up in barbed wire and never really taken care of.

That seems so inconsequential now.

“Sam! Take a picture of me up here,” I said, tossing her my camera. We were just getting saddled up and ready to head up our old familiar trail.

Sam gave the camera back to me and jumped onto her horse. We headed towards the trail head, excited to get going. There is a road that leads up to the trail but the gate is always closed so no ATV’s or cars can go up there. But for those on horseback, there is a little short side trail that winds through trees, goes around the gate and opens on the other side. Everything was perfect at this point. Sam and her horse Bo headed up the short trail first, JJ and I on her heels.

It was that moment, with my eyes on sam’s back and my hand on JJ’s reins that I watched everything turn horribly wrong. With the cover of the thick trees, horses aren’t able to see the gate and a few big rocks until they are right up next to them. Horses are creatures of memory. If something seems off, if something isn’t familiar, it’s only instinct to panic. After all, it’s what keeps them safe in the wild. A good horse, a “broke” horse shouldn’t get spooked very often, if ever.

Bo spooked. Not just a little, no. This half Thoroughbred/half Quarter Horse gelding paniced, snorting loudly and jumping into the air. His body twisted, his hind legs kicking out and his front legs reaching forward. He sun-fished like a bull, trying to buck and kick at the rocks at the same time.

Time stopped in a sick form of slow motion as I watched as my sisters body fly up into the air as Bo bucked and thrashed. I watched as Sam landed with a hard thud against the leather, her body dangling off to the side of the horse. Her left foot became a part of every cowboy or girls worst nightmare – she was hung up in the stirrup.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Bo took off at an all out run up the trail, and he was headed towards the hill face with my sister still attached. She let out a dejected scream and my heart broke. I have never felt so helpless in my life, to watch her hands flailing, her head bobbing dangerously close to pounding hooves, heading towards a cliff. I was torn. I wanted so badly to run JJ, grab her horses reins and pull him to a stop, but I couldn’t. That would have put her right between two horses running full out, and if she were to fall then I didn’t want either horse to step on her. But I needed to do something. I spurred JJ into a lope, reacting without thinking. My eyes never left her, bobbing there helplessly.

Her left foot was caught in the stirrup but there was one thing that I’d like to think was her saving grace. She’d recently purchased a new barrel saddle, which are typically made with higher-backed seats. When he bucked and she bounced up, her right leg came completely out of the stirrup but the heel of her boot caught on the lip of the saddle. Without this, I honestly believe she would have been completely caught and dragged for who knows how long. But this leg, this frustratingly stuck right leg is what saved my sisters life. It was keeping her left leg somewhat straight, and she was able to shake her left foot loose from the stirrup.

My mind will never let go of the image of how she fell. Her head hit first, crunching in the gravel at a sickening angle, while her neck kinked in the most impossible way, directly the opposite way of her head, and the weight of her body finally flipped her over and slammed her to the ground.

I don’t remember stopping JJ or jumping off. I scrambled to make it over to Sam, but she jumped up before I could reach her. My brother in law had finally come up behind me and dashed for her, screaming for her to stay down. His horse had stayed behind, never wanting to come out of the trees so the only thing he viewed was her laying on the ground and her horse running away. She was dazed, confused and shaking, so she crawled to the side of the mountain to get away from the horses. I could see a mixture of blood and dirt scratched into her face.

My eyes left them to find Bo. The last thing I wanted was for him to come anywhere near us, or especially near her right then. He had made it a ways up the trail before he turned around. I assume he didn’t stop running until she was off, but now he was facing me, looking me in the eye. I grabbed him and started leading him down the mountain until Mark took him from me. If ever man was mad at beast, this was the moment. My new challenge was to calm Mark down and have him take the horses back down before he scared Sam even more. Thankfully we’d only made it about fifty yards from the trail when the accident happened. JJ and I stayed by Sam for a moment while he took Bo away.

“Oh my god, my face is bleeding! Am I okay?!” Sam tried to look at me through the blood dripping down her eye. From the surface I could see that she was indeed pretty scuffed up, but the injury I was worried about the most was her neck. After a hit like that. . .how was she still sitting? How was she not paralized or worse, killed? I tried to channel my thoughts into the now. I NEEDED to stay calm to help sam. That was my mantra for the next few hours.

“You have a few scratches Sam, and there’s some dirt but I don’t see anything too bad, just don’t touch it” I rubbed the only part of her I couldn’t see hurt, her upper arm. Her hands, knee and forearms were scratched but by far the worst was her face. She assured me she’d stay sitting while I run my horse back down to the trailer.

I was thinking earlier when we picked up JJ and I had to run to the truck for the gate key, how fun it is to run. Running back to Sam was in stark contrast to that feeling. I wasn’t running for my life, I was running for someone elses. This was more important than anything in the entire world. Mark entrusted her to me as he unsaddled the horses and hastily threw them in the trailer. I could hear him cursing Bo from a ways away. Gently and slowly I wrapped my arm around Sam and guided her back to the truck.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m sorry we didn’t get to go for a ride. I’m sorry you couldn’t ride JJ”. She was so silly when she was dazed. Sorry was the last thing either me or Mark wanted to hear. I was apologizing to her, and so was he.

“I should have rode JJ through first. It should have been me, he would never have freaked out like that,” I mumbled.

“I should have rode Bo first. I should have worked him. I should have listened,” Mark chastised himself in the drivers seat as we fought BYU football game traffic to get to the ER.

“I’m fine guys, I don’t need the ER and I’m a mess. Look at me!” She worried over and over. I had to keep telling her that not everyone who walks in the ER looks that good anyway. I didn’t care how she looked. She was my sister, my best friend, and she was alive and consious. She could have sprouted three pairs of eyes at that moment and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. “Oh my god!” She paniced and bawled. “My head, I just felt it and it’s mooshy. I think it’s bleeding!”

We told her it was just the bruising, not bleeding. I was scared, she was starting to go into shock and the traffic couldn’t have been worse. We finally made it to the ER and they took her vitals, gave her a neck brace and told us their rooms were full so we’d have to wait in the lobby. What we hoped would be a quick checkout ended up being an excruciating wait with other patients hoping for the same treatment. One was a baby, only a few months old that had had a seizure at a restaurant. Another was a man with a fever so bad he lied on the floor shaking. There were sick people everywhere around us. It really gives you some perspective on the word “emergencies” when you can watch a loved one get hurt so badly, and the doctors can only help people in the order of who is hurt the worst.

By the end of four hours, our family had been contacted, our parents were there with us and they had finally given her a room and a thorough checkout. The cat scans came back negative and the only injury so far is a really bad goose egg and a black eye.

And like they say, it could always be worse. My sister has a black eye, but you see these sunglasses?

She was wearing them when it happened, and although she was a bit pissed since they were her new pair and they got ruined, they actually wound up protecting her eyes. When my parents came in and told her that her face looked bad, the first thing she said was,

“You shoulda seen the other guy”.

That’s my girl Sam. I’m SO glad you’re okay.

Hug the ones you love today, you never know when something might happen.

“Are you mocking me?” I clutched the saddle horn tighter in my hand. I knew I wasn’t an optimal rider, but I’d do anything just to stay up on this horse. But lope? With no saddle? And worse, no hands?

“That’s impossible, that’s unrealistic,” I huffed.

“Anything is possible Aub.  Some day you’ll see what I mean”.

We finished our ride and by the end of the night I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but he didn’t have a saddle on and I wasn’t quite sure how to just “jump on” such a tall creature. Before I could even think of a way, Mark grabbed my leg and threw me up onto JJ’s broad, sweat soaked back. This was completely different than riding with a saddle. I had to find a way to stay seated, but every movement of his legs made me wobble as Mark guided us to the pasture. There was no way I could do this and lope. There was no way I could even do this for five minutes. My legs were on fire and my calf muscles were clamping up from the effort.

For months I tried to focus on that being my goal. I rode every night with them, learned how to turn the barrels, stop the horse, back up, and put on a bridle. I learned to lope and hold my seat in a saddle, learned to trot and hold my body while bareback. I trained myself to be in sync with the horse, to move when he moved, stop my body when he stopped. It was a learning process.

JJ was a patient, kind horse. He taught me how to ride, never scaring me or pushing me, but always giving me just the amount of challenge I needed. He let me make mistakes, but also showed me easier ways to do things. They say a smart horse can tell the experience level of their rider and change to suit their needs, and I believe it.

We finally accomplished loping, loping!, without a saddle. I was estatic and addicted. I galloped him around until he was out of strength and I was out of breath. I took to loping him every morning before feedings. It was our time to spend together, and bless his soul he never minded putting off a meal for a ride. I began to not use a bridle at all, and started using halters and lead ropes to steer.

One quiet, bright morning I climbed the fence and jumped onto JJ’s back. It was the usual ride but something felt different. I was ready to challenge myself. We started at a trot and worked our way up to a slow, rocking-horse lope, my legs clenched around his withers and my hands entangled in his mane. Ever so slowly, I raised my hands up until they were above his neck and I let them stay there, suspended in the air as we continued to move. I realized I had hit that moment – the one Mark promised me. The moment where I was loping and riding with no hands, no saddle, no barriers between horse and rider, but I still was holding the reins.

In a rush of confidence, I let go of my hold on the lead.

I let go.

Of worries, stress, problems, issues, concerns. I didn’t think about falling, I didn’t think about “what if he stops and I fly off?” My only thought was,

{this feels great}.

JJ, tuned into me as much as I was tuned into him, sped up into a fast, almost running lope. I flung my arms out wide, closed my eyes and just LIVED. I trusted him. Every hoof beat, every heart beat, every breath was created by two but felt as one.

These grainy images from my cell phone are the only photos I have of him.

The photos and stories I have in my memory? Well, they’re much, much better.

I corner Ollie with the video camera of course.

And I switch from third to first person at random. Sorry about that.

When my Aunt gave me Ollie, we were told he can howl on command. Turns out he talks too.

I always wonder if he really loves me, or if he just loves it when I shut up.

Food.

He loves food and snuggles.

And my parents. That about sums it up.

Want to know what I love? (Besides Ollie). I love YOU my dear readers. I had a record traffic day yesterday and it’s days like that that make my heart soar and give me the motivation to keep it coming with the sarcasm and all the lame jokes.

Any funny posts you want to see? Any pets you can’t get enough of? Any tricks you want me to learn and blog about? Let me know in the comment box.

Loves!

- AubreyMo