A Happy Dog

Playing with Julie's favorite toy, freshly washed.

Allie is a happy dog. Everyone who has met her describes her the same way ~ a happy dog. She has found love, attention, many daily walks, car rides, playing in the pond. Baths always follow, and sometimes it's hard to tell if she likes the pond or baths better. I hate that I have to leave her behind when I go back to school tomorrow, but you can be sure I'll hurry home and give her and our llamas my undivided attention. I'm ready to go back, just the normal reluctant, as you can imagine. Leaving so much happiness behind.

Allie and Maggie, fine friends at last.

The best thing about having chosen a Lab is the trait of the breeds: they love everyone. Allie is the FIRST dog that actually loves my husband and gives him attention. A lot of attention. She waits for him to come downstairs. She's with him when he puts his work shoes on. She has learned the wait command when he feeds her. And while it sounds like I'm out of the picture, not. She is one little girl who has enough love to share, and I'm just loving her so much. Thanks, Peggy, for breeding this wonderful dog, and for advertising her so honestly. She is all you said, and more. So happy to have her. A perfect choice for us.

Picnic Time for Puppy Dog

I can hear the Teddy Bear's Picnic Song in my head as I type, having grown up with Saturday morning radio programs for children. Sunday was definitely picnic time for our puppy dog. When all the food courses were served and I could finally relax, I brought Allie to the picnic, and she really enjoyed herself.


Water dog. Yes. Loves the pond. Absolutely. Had a good time. Definitely. Can she swim. You betcha.

Did she love her bath. After she was almost dried, I had gone upstairs for another towel. When I returned, she was back in the tub. True Lab. Pure good dog. Love her.

Our First Open Farm

First Open Farm from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

Wonderful children enjoying life on the farm.

We had our first Open Farm on Friday, August 27, 2010, and it was a delightful day. In a week of farm firsts, this one topped the list. A dear friend who has trained all our dogs, Julie Zak and her 3 children spent the day at Pine Hill Llama farm. I showed them the farmhouse and we went upstairs to play with the cats. Both are, like the llamas and our new dog, patient loving well socialized pets. Then we rode tthe golf carts to the barns, took a look at the beautiful Blue Mountain view, and met the llamas. I wanted the children to experience a farm first hand, so while I cleaned the paddock, the llamas met the children. So often farm life is romanticized, even mythologized, but I wanted them to know that although I would not live any other place or way, a farm is work.

Tess and Alyssa

An Open Farm is one extended teachable moment, so I told them about llamas and the special needs and care they require. Julie's children are intelligent, and their questions threaded what we discussed. The children feed the girls and then added the electrolytes to the 2 water buckets, cleaned the auto waterer, and then helped me halter 3 of the girls. We took Tess and the 2 yearlings for a llama walk, and discovered that you do not wear bright red around the girls. Other than figuring that out, the walk was a great experience, but especially for me. It was my first walk as the leader, the one responsible for whatever happened. And it was a great confidence builder.

Brinson, Stehly, Tess and Maria

During the rest of the day, we played with the llamas, lunched, picked heirloom apples to take home, took a ride to a neighboring farm, and played with Allie, our new dog of 2 days. Something about puppies and children. Always a delight all around. In the afternoon, Jennifer Brinson and Katie Stehly joined us for hanging out with the llamas. What a fun time that was. Then back to the farmhouse for chocolate desserts, and already 5 PM, the open farm ended. Time flew. I was exhausted but so happy to share what I love so much. I began to understand Teri Conroy's joy of sharing Wunsapana Farm. I'm getting there, Teri. Thanks for showing me the way. It was so much fun, I'm going to do it again. Soon.

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Teri Conroy

O Happy Day

Loves the water. No surprises here.

Allie was waiting for someone who didn't care she was small. She was waiting for some who wanted a really good dog. At 9 months, she was the last of her litter to leave. She was a kennel dog, so EVERYTHING is new to her. All the time.

Taking time to smell each flower. Really!

For Allie, life is now one continuous surprise, an exploration of what is possible. She revels in each new exploration, looking to me for guidance. Over the (many) years, I have learned that whether you rescue an older dog or begin with a puppy, what you do in the first 48 hours will remain an imprint forever. So I have taken great pains to give Allie an enriched life. And that will not end in 2 days.

The newness of discovery.

She just won't take no for an answer.

Yesterday we did so much. We took 20 minute browsing walks, leisurely letting Allie chose her opportunities to scent, smell, look about, chose her pathways. So many good things to learn about on a farm; for a dog like reading the Times Union.

Best of all, she loves Mickey, and that very fact is the cause of so much deep and abiding laughter. Mickey wants Allie to be attentive to her, and that is NOT a problem for her. But Mickey does not want to be licked. Problem. Allie's a lover and a licker. Mickey hates to be wet. Allie love Mickey, so she licks him. Lots. What's so funny is Mickey's comments. The unprintable are funner, but things like I'm rusting away. The watch won't work. I want to eat that fruit. It's like getting a bath. And he loves every minute of it. So do I. So does Allie. O happy day!

Our First Llama Walk

Hate to admit it, but I was terrified. Or maybe worried. A what ifer. Eventually I relaxed, but that would be when we were back at the barn, safe and secured. Then I loved the walk. It's about gaining confidence, and I'm getting there. Watch out when I am!


Our First Llama Walk from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

The Road Home

Allie and Jen

Allie & Jen in Staunton, VA

Who volunteers to go on a marathon ride from Hamburg PA to Staunton VA, 560 miles, to pick up a dog?

An animal lover, a best friend.

Jen Brinson.

Counting down the last days of summer vacation, she signed on for the ride. Barely back from Elizabeth City, NC, she pretty much turned around and went almost back again.

We were there not even 5 minutes and Jen had Allie heeling and sitting. Jen wears many hats; count dog trainer among them. Patient and caring, Jen was onto this dog in a heartbeat. Two sweet girls.

Peggy & Laurel Fork Lab

Had you predicted that I would ever purchase a dog online, would not conduct a face-to-face meeting with a potential family member, that I would forego handling the dog to read the temperament, I would have said not a chance. But I did, and I am NOT sorry.

I had the recommendation of Janelle Moser, whose family owns a Laurel Fork Lab, and held several conversations with the puppy's breeder, Peggy Parries. She sent me several short videos; add a photo and I was willing to drive 560 miles to fetch her home.

Kismet, aka love at first sight.

Simple as that.

Almost there. Your forever home.

The ride home was long but the company great. Jen was my eyes for the dog; she kept me posted and chatted up Allie. I was impressed with this dog just from the drive alone. She was calm, quiet, and happy. She slept most of the time, or watched and waited. A patient dog, a pretty girl, a good dog.

In Jan Karon's At Home in Mitford, Father Tim acquires a big black dog. A good dog. Karon describes it this way:

A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can't get it by breeding for it, and you can't buy it with money. It just happens along.

Allie just happened along.

It Takes A Village

What a crew!

I hate it when Hillary's right, but it takes a village ~ to keep this farm running. My village is a tremendous two-man team, Michael and Harold. Sometimes 3 or 4. But the core, the crew, is two. They spent all day Saturday working on the farm, with dedication you would not believe. Michael was heading out to DisneyWorld in Florida with his family, but he came back with Harold, worked through 2 storms, and pressure washed the deck. I'm hoping that he and Brandy and their 3 Little Giggles--great girls--have the vacation of their life. Enjoy!!

High Tech Llamas?

A Special Farm Visit from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

Fun day. Interesting watching people out of their element. What happens when 3 super techies meet llamas. High tech llamas? Enjoy the two videos.
 

Dorman and SP

Anyone who knows me understands my sense of privacy with the farm. It's our retreat and we don't do guests often. But Teri Conroy of Wunsapana Farm opens her farm and her heart often for llama walks. So I decided to take the plunge. August 20 (as Alice said, "behinder and behinder" I am on blogging) was a first. First time Jennifer Dorman visited the farm, and first time I invited two former students. Dorman spends most of her life lately in the air. She is one of Discovery Education's popular presenters, the original tech guru, and definitely my mentor. Learned a lot rubbing elbows at conferences and DEN events. And she's a dear friend.

Megan, Mark, and Maria

Megan and Mark were exceptional students in every way. The were light years ahead of most students with their tech integration and together we learned and taught. It was a unique approach to learning, ahead of its time, much like what Chris Lehman has positioned at SLA, just on a totally mini scale. Megan and Mark presented often, for the Salisbury Township School District, School Board, and Carbon Lehigh Intermediate Unit 21. They were so professional in their CFF presentation, they were taken for student teachers, which is what they were. Megan said she often wondered why I wanted llamas, and after her visit, she understood.


That Special First Visit from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

(I apologize for looking so awful; my dog had just died and I wasn't sleeping well and it shows.)

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Ebb and Flow

Last photos of Julie

A good friend, colleague, and a woman with old-fashioned Southern charm, humor, and down-home common sense gave me some advice today. With her Southern drawl, she brightened my day. Gail is passionate about animals, especially dogs and deer, and she has the knack for storytelling.

She was brave, courageous, and noble to the end.

When Julie died, Gail reminded me on Facebook, "Ebb and Flow, Ebb and Flow." She also told me not to rush to replace Julie, but let grief run its course. In fact, not to rob myself of the grief process. That we have to grieve to come out healed at the end. More interestingly though, today at school she told me I was diddling around. It's her mother's story, and Gail tells it so much better, but here it is.

So kind, so caring. So missed.

What we need to do when we grieve is put everything in God's hands. But usually we have to diddle around a bit, get messy about trying to control everything, instead of going with the ebb and flow. We ask God for His help, but then we keep diddling around. God lets us diddle, and when we get tired, we stop diddling and let God intervene. That's when things happen. Healing begins.

My Shadow

Point taken. I'm going with the ebb and flow. But I am struggling with moving on. Julie went everywhere with me but the barn, and there's an empty spot. Helena told me she'll still walk the farm with me in spirit, and I know I will carry her in my heart. Somewhere between ebb and flow I've learned that I struggle with loss much harder as I age, and getting past this one is challenging my reserves. She was the dog I cried myself to sleep with when I learned I had cancer. She was my best friend.

Still walking the farm in spirit.

What makes this all so hard is that we have all been hit with such losses this summer. For some people, devastating multiple losses. It touches all of us. I almost don't want to keep current with Facebook because every week someone I know and care about or have just friended has suffered a loss. I pray for better days for all of us.

Amen.

A truly sweet noble good dog. Rest in peace. You were so loved. 

I so thought she would make it, work past what crippled her. But she didn't. And she tried so hard. We tried so hard. Perhaps I should give up rescuing animals; they never seem to spend enough time with us when we rescue older pets. Four years was too short. But great years, wonderful memories. Julie was our first dog that we could allow to be with children. She was gentle but protective, a difficult combination to find. Impossible to replace. Heartbroken. Such a huge loss. Tess and SP consoled me through my tears. Not a surprise that SP just reached up and put her head next to me on my shoulder and hugged. She nuzzled my tears. She understood.

God bless all of you for your kind messages, help, advice, and especially for just being there for us. It was a difficult journey and I am so glad we had you with us on the way. My heart goes out to all of you who have lost animals during what has been a hard summer.

Finding Frogs with Zoe

At our season's opening picnic, we were 27 strong. But the day belonged to the grandchildren and the dogs. They had such a good time, especially our youngest grandchild, Zoe. Spending her day on the pond's edge, she found a frog with the help of her brother, Ben, aided with tons of support and advice from Meredith.

Afraid you can tell this is my first attempt at iMovie. Like wine, I'll get better with time.

Finding Frogs with Zoe from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

A Hard Summer

Cody

Summer has touched all of us who own livestock, and for too many, it left tragedy in its wake. Whether it was failed breedings where pregnancies were absorbed, or decomposed, requiring a uterine flush, or worse, complete loss, we are all affected. As connections among our social and professional networks grow, so does our combined grief and mourning for our friends. Their losses.

Our losses. Unborn crias. Bloodlines interrupted. Ended. The joy of a morning walk. Watching the evening sky with our best friends. The incomparable nuzzling. Conversations and shared secrets sealed. A very large presence, almost unbearable, of absence.

I cannot tell you why; I can only tell you I believe. If we want them to, I think those who pass stay with us, and return in unusual ways to remind us how much they loved us before they left. If we open our hearts, their love always returns to us. Remains with us.

Hope and prayers and white light, sent your way. We are with you.

Best Friends

Image via Wikipedia

Jen Brinson's summers are as busy as her academic year. Only difference is I do not get to see her almost at all during vacation unless I travel abroad with her, or go to the OBX. On a rare return visit to the valley, she spent time at the farm. The videos speak to the gentle natures of both best friends.


Best Friends from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.


More Best Friends from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

I know I am biased, but I think both are very special.

Kicking Into Real

What authenticates you? 

At PETE&C DEN PRECon 2010, Hershey, PA

Years ago, for me it was fast Italian cars (speeding tickets), horses, degrees, diamonds, languages, students. The usual stuff.

What makes you an authentic llama owner? How do you know you are finally there? real? What tells your inner self you have arrived. Something that goes beyond the care and love we give and share. Daily.

Something else kicks in, and you know you're there, a real owner at last.

SP, with Maria in the background.

The aha moment arrived this afternoon and it felt great. Euphoric. I was on the back end of a down-and-back three-hour trip to the valley. I knew the girls should be hosed, so I connected my new 10 footer, bled the hot water, and talked SP into being first. For some reason, my yearlings mind the heat most, so I started with them. SP comes when called--really--so out of the stall she came. Hoping to get her to the litter box the girls use for sun bathing, I asked her to join me there. She did. I hosed her and she loved it. No halter, no lead rope.

Tess, followed by Maria.

Around the ten-minute mark, Tess came over. She's one lady that can't stand being upstaged. Frankly, I thought she would have moseyed over much sooner. Hosed her. Wonder of wonders, pregnant hormonal and sometimes (lately) difficult but lovable Rev meandered over. Hosed her. She is a talker, so we conversed. She told me the cria's coming soon. Good news indeed. Fingers crossed.

Then Maria came when called, and we repeated the process. But something Teri Conroy told me would happen did. They jostled for position; 1 hose and 4 llamas. But (here's the big aha moment), Miss Cierra joined the group, cautiously, and I hosed her. Cautiously. You cannot appreciate this scenario unless you understand that Miss Cierra was not a Carol Reigh llama breeding/raising but rather an outside llama she acquired for her bloodline. She's been hard to gain trust because she was not as socialized as Carol's other llamas, but I've been working on that all summer. Nights. Sitting with her in the stall when the others went out to pasture. Conversations with her. Letting me stroke her coat, still kushed down. A gimungous accomplishment.

Etcetera in the mini-pasture.

Last but not least, Etcetera wandered down from grazing in the mini-woods. She did them all one better, and I must say I should have seen it coming. After watching, please tell me if you think my dark Hershey chocolate brown llama, Rev, is pregnant. Or not. I'm a first-time mother all around, so a real beginner. Already have the cria's name picked, regardless of gender. (Hope that's not bad luck). Here's the video.

Kicking Into Real from RJ Stangherlin on Vimeo.

Eventually I rode Bridge on Fire to some nice BIS.

For those of you who might wonder why becoming authentic is so important, a large part of my horse life in a show barn had my animals on a total care package. I was handed my horse, rode, and handed it back. Total care. When my husband died (number 2), I eventually became a real owner, and I knew the moment when. I have always taken care of my llamas, but today I landed. We were finally a unit, working like a team of 6-in-one. If you've ever ridden a horse over fences, you know what I mean. It's that split second of oneness when you meet, take, and land a huge oxer perfectly, or jump an outside course in-and-out with perfection. That feeling. Today I had it with 6 and 3/4 llamas.

Total trust. Total bonding. Kicking into real at last.

http://beatingbackcancer.blogspot.com

PS: For those of you who do not know, last summer I was seriously ill. Someone cared for my llamas as I watched them from my sun room windows that look out to the barn. Otherwise, this bonding would have likely happened much sooner.

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A Good Dog's Story: A Small Miracle

Courageous but suffering on Thursday

Julie is my shadow, a loving but watchful companion, a big black good dog. Noble. Her courage has been tested this week; mine too. But we came through.

Together. Thanks to all of you who reached out with support, prayers, white light, and incredible advice.

At the vet, Friday. Nervous. Both of us.

Because of you, I knew what to ask, meds to request, types of tests, how to approach Julie's management. Knowing you had the same or similar experiences made it easier, somehow. I wasn't alone. You inspired me with your stories. You gave me much-needed courage.

Without you, I do not think I would have held together, dealing with humidity and the llamas, a broken water main, the AC that failed, and Julie not walking, all on the same day. A lot to manage.

Asking for the help she was given. Almost a miracle.

Yesterday, the vets saw her again. Now all 3 vets had examined her, consulted, and spent at least an hour with her each visit. With us. They are wonderful vets, and one of them said she had 2 GSDs who had manifested the same symptoms who turned out to have thyroid problems, so we tested her for that. You guessed it. Julie is hypothyroid. By 11 PM yesterday, with only 1 pill in her system, there was a difference.

Resting after our normal walk to the pond.

Today, I have my dog back. Julie may never be 100%. She never had a perfect hind end and from a distance, ambling up and down our many hills, she looked more like a bear. Was taken for one, once. But she's back. Walking. I still need to help her up. Might have to always, but we have a rhythm going and we each know what we have to do. I tell her, OK, Jules, let's do it. I lift her back end with a towel, and she handles her front. It works. Once she's up, she can go.

You can see her back right leg isn't "right," but she's standing.

Tonight, it felt so good, for both of us I think, that she could be the dog she wants to be. Sniffing, stopping to smell her spots without falling down. Barking at nothing, just to let the world know she's herself again, living in the moment. Being a dog.

Thank you.

And there's something else. When I was waiting for news, knowing I might have to make a difficult decision, I got my phone out and opened Facebook. I read your prayers and asked God to use your prayers to help my dog. And I asked for some of the white light that calms, because I tried not to use it all up during my eye surgery. Suddenly, my dog stood up, and continued to stand and walk on the slippery tile. I am not exaggerating. The whole office watched. The dog that needed help into the visit walked out on her own power. Or yours. Or prayers, white light. Or God's intervention. A small miracle.

Thank you so very much. Feel our joy, gratitude. Happiness.

She's still walking.

Men, Dirt, and Dog Days

Give a guy a backhoe and a bad job just got better.

It began with the backhoe.

Anyone on a farm will tell you if you're bringing out the backhoe, something's wrong. Fix it time.       

See Michael smiling.

Problem was a rusted pipe, older than (struggling for a metaphor here) I. Probably. Had to be replaced. Awful job. Humid day. Dog days of summer.

Harold grew up on a farm. Has great stories. Understands farmlife.

Lots of hand digging. Took the better part of the day. Should have invested in Gatoraid. We drink it and water in buckets. Dig, shovel, dirt. Change girls' water.

Notice the girls. Backhoe. Check. Noise. Check. Life on the farm. Check.

Life lessons from llamas: don't sweat the small stuff. Find some shade, line up with the breeze, find munchies. Life is good.

48' of PVC, dirt, digging day...

Pipe is bad. Harold touched it and poof. Gone. Lends new meaning to touchy. Feel the humidity. A digging dirty day, and I've got to tell you, men just don't seem to mind getting down and dirty.

I've always said I have the best help, and if their patience and endurance was put to the test, it had to be today. They are simply that good!

All the time.

Half GSD, half Black Lab, wholly wonderful best friend.

But then I lost it, or began to. My dog's continued difficulty getting up, walking, doing normal dog things got to me. And her. Such a big proud good dog. Reduced to barking.

Here's what I'm doing about that.

Everything in my power.
A chiropracter.
A woman who does a little bit of everything. Reiki, massage, adjustment. She may even have crystals. I don't care, so long as she can fix her.

Nothing is forever, and I know as well as anyone. But I am not quitting on this dog. She never quit on me. Us. Anyone. She may be having her dog days, but I'm there with her, and as long as I can lift her up and down, keep her moving, comfortable, dignified, it's a good day.