When I was a little girl, my mother would get me involved in some of her holiday and special occasion preparations- especially in the kitchen. As you know, I grew up between two boys in a neighborhood full of boys and I’m certain she wanted to make sure I was adequately trained in more than just the rules of whiffle ball, the fine art of fishing with night crawlers, and the delicate skill of releasing a firecracker before explosion. All very important in their own right, though. 

In January, I wrote about a stray dog affectionately called Otis. If you missed the backstory of Otis, you can go back and read about him. Well, last week, a woman posted on a lost pet page that a dog had shown up at her friend’s house and she was trying to help her find its owner. Pam, one of the rescue group on Otis’s trail, saw the post and that’s where the rest of the story begins. 

The first sighting of Otis was about 4 months ago- at least, for us. It was assumed that he was a hunting dog and was abandoned in a parking lot near the place he was usually spotted. He’d been seen running toward random white trucks on a couple of occasions, so we wondered if his human may have driven a white truck. No one knew how he ended up there, really. It was all speculation. Whatever his story, Otis was out of place and had become a rambling man. A man on the run. In survival mode. On high alert. He let no one touch him or get anywhere close. He was always on the move. Solitaire was his game. 

But, he drew a lot of attention because of the paths he traveled. He liked a retail/restaurant section of town where he captured the eye of many-a-sympathetic woman who would stop and try to help. An accumulation of dog food bowls left for him grew quickly. Besides enjoying the food they left, Otis would accept none of their help. He was a proud man. He made regular appearances on the local lost pet pages like the sampling below. He was becoming a real local celebrity and was often referred to as “baby” in the posted pleas for help. Otis never appreciated being called baby online. It was bad for his image. He’s a man’s man, after all. 

A drowsy Otis is taken into custody by Amber.

The homeowners, who reported the wanted man hiding out on their property, after the capture. 

We loaded Otis in the back seat of the truck and Amber sat next to him. The first stop for Otis would be to the vet. We’d noticed, weeks earlier, that he had a bad injury to his tail and there was really no telling what else. He stayed overnight after having a good work up, being neutered, and having his tail removed. The vet suspected he chewed it off after it became caught in something. What was left was so infected, she decided it was best to bob it. He’ll also have to be treated for heartworms in the coming months. Other than that and being underweight, Otis was pretty healthy and estimated to be 1-2 years old. 

Bloodshot-eyed Otis arriving at the animal hospital and wondering where it all went wrong.

Otis left the vet on Saturday and and checked into our inpatient Off the Streets program here. If anyone has experience in taking vagrant hounds and turning them into a semi-civilized canines, it would be Ruby’s adoptive parents. Here at the Happy Hound Halfway House, we specialize in hounds who have lost their way and need a fresh start. Davis and I plan to foster and love Otis for a few months until he’s done with his heart worm treatment. 

Otis sporting his new tail. It will be more attractive to the ladies when the fur grows back. Is there anything more southern than a couple of hounds lazing around on the front porch? 

Otis has really taken to Ruby. Although freshly neutered, he still tries to flirt with the ladies around the neighborhood. They say it takes a few weeks for the hormones to work their way out of the system which I’m sure is not surprising to any of us. None of the neighborhood girls have met his advances with kindness. Otis will soon learn that subdivision women are not like those women he met on the streets. They are looking for long term commitment. He has a lot to learn about becoming a proper southern gentleman in the coming weeks. 

Otis meets some of the more refined ladies. 

We’re currently working on being happy in our kennel at night and making progress. Night one and two involved howling for two hours before falling asleep. Last night- only 15 minutes of howling so we’re making progress. He’s sleeping 12 hours each night. I think it’s the first time he’s slept on anything soft in a while and he’s finally able to let his guard down enough to sleep soundly. We’d see him sleeping in the grass on the side of the road when he was homeless. After five months of solitude, it only took one day here before he was crying at night because he was separated from us. Dogs really do crave human companionship. 

We’re learning about the leash and we’re taking a lot of walks. A. Lot. Of. Walks. Otis is accustomed to walking all day, every day. I want him to be tired when he’s tucked in each night, so we’re keeping the road hot. I’m currently on the rescue hound weight loss program. Down two pounds since Saturday. This will certainly help Ruby to lose a few, too, which is needed. If anyone is interested in this program, contact me and I will loan Otis out and retrieve him when you’ve reached your desired weight. 

Otis and Ruby mole hunting

Goose hunting

and napping in the sun. 

Some may think it’s just a dog, but no one wants to see a living thing scared and suffering. Otis eats like he’ll never see food again and still startles easily but is learning to trust us more each day. The noises Otis had been used to- big trucks, car horns, and loud sirens have been replaced with kinder sounds here outside the city- birds singing, roosters crowing, geese honking. The once untouchable boy has taken a liking to affection and nuzzles us for pets. He’s reminded several times a day in a gentle voice that he’s a good, good boy. In time, large doses of love and tenderness will heal his little spirit. 

And now you know the rest of the story of the dog named Otis.

Otis would like to thank a few people who helped him along the way. He sees now that he only delayed good things for himself during those months of resistance. First of all, my animal loving friend, Betty, was the one who named him Otis long before his capture. She fed him when he was a stray and started referring to him as Otis. It stuck. He looks like an Otis. James and Pam made many trips from another town to set up their traps on several occasions. They tried so hard to catch him before the really cold weather arrived, but it didn’t happen. They’re professionals and help so many people trap their lost animals who are scared and run away from help. Tracie is another dog rescuer. She helped with feeding Otis and whatever else was needed from her. Teresa loaned her insulated dog house to the effort, so he’d have somewhere to escape the cold wind. My dog loving friend, Shelley, made a generous donation to Otis’s care. All the people who cared enough to post about him or pulled over and tried to help him to no avail. And last but not least, Amber, the rescuer. What a great gal! She took the ball and ran with it. She stuck with it and finally got that boy. Amber has done everything in her power to help make fostering Otis as easy as possible for Davis and me. I’m so glad Otis introduced us. 

Well, I have to get to bed, so I’ll be well-rested to walk, walk, walk tomorrow. 

Night, y’all. 

JONI 

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Well, I’ve been home sick this week. I was supposed to go on a little day trip with a friend on Monday but woke up feeling bad. Later, I found out it was Covid, so I’m so glad I didn’t pop some Advil and power through like I was tempted to do. Anyway, who knows where I got it, but my bet is Buc-ee’s. We stopped on the way home from the mountains and I ran inside while Davis pumped gas. The people were shoulder to shoulder in there and, after a few minutes, I realized most of them were coughing. It was a little bizarre. You could almost see the germs buzzing in the air like houseflies. I could have put my drink back and left, but I was really in there to get one of those brisket sandwiches and I wasn’t leaving without it. There are some things worth a roll of the dice and, well, here we are, one incubation period later. Who knows. I could’ve picked it up anywhere but- yeah, I’m going to leave my money on Buc-ee’s. 

All things considered, I don’t have a lot to talk about this week. Unless you want to hear about the tribulations of breathing out of one nostril or my flirtations with Afrin addiction. Yes, they’re doing some fine work down there at the Afrin nose spray factory and I don’t think we recognize that enough. I could offer my reasons for recommending Puffs Plus Lotion over Kleenex Soothing Lotion. Ruby and I have taken a lot of naps. Then, we’d get up and look out the window across the foggy, dreary landscape and sigh. I did finish watching The Crown and just loved it. I may have to start it again. 

I don’t feel like I’m really missing anything by being on house arrest. I don’t know about where you live, but it’s been so overcast here. Wet, cloudy, cold. I can’t remember the last time I saw the sun. Now don’t get me wrong- I’m all about some cold, overcast days, but even I’ve reached my fill of the damp darkness. I’ll look back in mid-July when the sun has scorched the earth’s surface and think what a fool I was. Most of my friends have been longing for the warmth of the sun and longer stretches of daylight since October. This January did seem particularly gloomy and dark. I’ll give them that. The weatherman has used the sunshine graphic for tomorrow’s forecast. I’m surprised he even remembered where he kept it, but we’ll look forward to it becoming a reality. Take heart, warmth lovers, soon enough we’ll be sweating through our clothes, slapping mosquitos, and our legs sticking to the car seats. Won’t that be great fun? 

Just wanted to check in with you even though I didn’t have much to say. One of my resolutions for the new year was to post once a week. Such as it is, I hated to drop the ball this early. I hope y’all see some sunshine this weekend. Be careful out there. It’s an awfully germy time of year! 

Until next week-

JONI 

For the last five years, I’ve compiled all the pictures taken on my phone during each year and I’ve made one of those photo books from Snapfish. That can add up to a lot of pictures in a year’s time. Trips, birthdays, family gatherings, Ruby being adorable, or just someone who fell asleep on the couch with their mouth open wide. In this age when our cellphones are basically our only cameras, I’d gotten lax about having our pictures printed or even saved in some cases. I decided the photo book would be the easiest solution and then I’d print only the most special ones and file them away in our photo boxes for the children to deal with after I’m gone. You know, along with those plastic tubs filled with their childhood construction paper masterpieces. 

I was looking through our 2022 book that just came in and it got me thumbing through the other four books from the previous years. I’d been noticing it but there it was in print. The natural progression of my aging. Most noticeably, the way my eyelids have started to lose hope and give up in their fight against gravity. It seems like for some, especially those who are genetically inclined like myself, the eyelids just start lying down on the job at a certain age. Like drapes that puddle on the floor. As a result, I’ve started looking less alert and less chipper. Combine that with my naturally unwelcoming resting face and we have problem. To combat this lid thing, I’ve found myself trying to open my eyes wider in pictures so to not appear strung out on drugs. Sometimes, I overcompensate and end up looking like one of those wide-eyed killers on the news, so I’ve got to find a middle ground somewhere between drugs and murder. 

Another area of skin that seems to have a notable lack of determination to stay in the game is on the neck. It starts to become billowy as it pulls away from the chin and, in a few years, I can see how it could even flap in the wind given the right conditions. If you ever struggle with vanity, consider sitting down and placing your cell phone in your lap with the camera on and turned to selfie mode. Now, lean over and look down into the screen. Yeah. I know. Whoah! I’ll give you a minute. I discovered this antidote for pride, one day, when I accidentally took a picture of myself while trying to turn off my phone’s camera. Much like the rings of a tree trunk, you can count neck rings to see how old you are. Each ring represents 7 years. PSA- For this reason, when someone asks you to take a picture of their family on vacation or at church on Easter morning, you should always hold the camera up high- at least at head level- to allow their neck skin to stretch and smooth out as they look at the camera. Everyone looks much younger from up high. You’ll thank me. 

I came home from the mountains feeling sore all over. It doesn’t take much anymore. A misstep. A new activity. Sleeping in an awkward position. Yard work. A new pillow. An unfamiliar bed. A more strenuous walk than usual. Pretty much anything can lead to soreness nowadays. A couple of weeks ago, I suffered for days with a pulled abdominal muscle from a big sneeze. My feet creak and I have a knee that pops with almost every step. Put them both together and it sounds like a crackling fire only much less calming. My ankles are sore and stiff when I wake up in the morning and I walk like King Kong to the bathroom. I can’t get too far from my tweezers. I can’t read a thing without my glasses. I make grunting noises when I’m getting up off the floor. My brain is functioning at around 70% and I can never think of the word I’m trying to say. I’m 54 years old, rounding the corner to 55, and the signs of normal aging are everywhere. 

If you’re seeing evidence of getting older, take heart. At least, aging isn’t what it used to be. Y’all know I’m a classic TV fan and I recently saw an episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show that referenced Lou Grant’s age as being 50. Fifty? That got me curious, so I googled the ages of popular classic tv characters when their shows started and I think these will help us all feel better. The character of Aunt Bea was 58 years old in the first season. Edith Bunker was 47. Jed Clampett was 54. Grandpa Walton was 67. The Skipper was 43. Mr. Roper was 53. Columbo was 40. George Constanza was 31. Boss Hogg was 53. George Jefferson was 50. Howard Cunningham was 45. Ward Cleaver was 47. Miss Ellie Ewing was 63. Rose, Blanche, and Dorothy were early-50’s. Now, don’t we all feel better about ourselves? We needed that after counting our neck rings. I fall somewhere between Dorothy Zbornak and Aunt Bea, so I’m feeling pretty good about things now. 

I’ve never really minded birthdays or getting older. I’ve always been kind of proud of my collection of years. My collection may seem like child’s play to some and a massive, unattainable accumulation to others. There are a lot of good things I’ve noticed about aging. Years may take away the elasticity of skin, but it doesn’t leave us empty-handed. I’m more relaxed and much less stressed than in my younger days. Even though I’m not eager to try it, death isn’t as scary as it once seemed. Things I once thought were a really big deal, I realize are mostly foolishness. Now, when something happens in my physical life, I look for its spiritual significance. The qualities that impress me in people have really changed. I’m more content in that I can’t think of many material things I really want. I’m more deliberate about how I spend my time and want it to be used on something worthwhile. I’m more aware that everyone is grappling with something and deserves grace. I get Eleanor Roosevelt’s words now- “You wouldn’t worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.” And I’ve experienced enough life to finally recognize a pattern that God’s got me and He’s got a plan.

So, yes, as the eyelids go, so the neck goes and we won’t mention what else goes, but I like to think we’re all blossoming inside. Getting more beautiful each day. Kinder eyes. Softer hearts. Calmer minds. Gentler tongues. More committed spirits. 

True beauty always starts on the inside. 

Have a great weekend, my friends! 

JONI

Well, just a quick hello. We’re enjoying a relaxing week in the mountains with Blair and John Samuel. On our way, we picked up Blair at the end of her long week at market and met John Samuel up here in Blue Ridge, GA. Carson couldn’t make it due to the fact that he’s now a participant in the real world and hasn’t accumulated much vacation yet. We’re just enjoying each other’s company- eating, shopping, napping, hiking, and celebrating Davis’s birthday.