im so madd!!!

i don yus this thing so don spel gud k butt gotta warn yu mals haw meen humoms ken bee im so madd!!

so im kumin in the back dor i amost got it tor dawn gimmee nother weak an mis pris missee is krawdin me an im grawlin gud wen wat du i sea rayt insayd the dor heer kumz that gost eers up an tayl out -- well i grab m gud n we start in diskussin -- that humom jes keepz gitin in the way sheez skrychin an yallin i ken hardly kontsentrayt she trys to shuv me in a krayt to seppurayt us so k, i go in n tayk gost wimme 2 mals in liddel krayt yu bett i gut m wear i wann m. duz humom tayk a hyk lyk she shud hah no she grabbz me by my beeootifl tayl an pulz me awt uv the krayt!! by the tayl!! an shutts the krayt dor on me n gosts fayssus i nevur bin so madd in my hoal lyf yu bett im gonna git nuthr chants n git bak at that gost

watz mis pris duin wyz she knot halpin byt humom in tayl area nu'uh that pris mis is hydin in uthr krayt im so didzgudstud

wooooo
rowan the redd

Ghost, recovered

The Magnificent Ghost has fully recovered from his surgery to remove a large lump or mass from his leg. It turned out to be a hamartoma -- benign, non-cancerous growth -- but there is a good chance that it will recur. He had problems with the e-collar - it scraped open his sutures on both his dewclaws until I removed it. Not all of his stitches have completely dissolved -- I can still feel them under the skin, and he sometimes worries at them, but he's being astoundingly good about letting the wounds heal.

Talking Mals

My Mallies have all been pretty quiet -- well, my "muppy" (love that word!!) Ghost likes to make his feelings known when t'd off, but otherwise they're pretty silent. But yesterday I took Miss Congeniality (Missy) to the vet for the first time. Well, no sooner did we walk in the door than she locked eyes with the most adorable little fluffy Malapuppy. Back went her head and she set in to howling like a wolf. We ended up waiting for several hours -- typical on a sunday, I guess -- and she didn't so much as take a breather. And this lass doesn't have a lovely coloratura howl like my Rowan, who sings in tune with the sirens. Oh no, Missy roars from the diaphragm -- she sounds like she's growling out of deepest hatred and imminent intention to eat everyone in sight. Of course she's waving her plumy tail and smiling irresistibly at the same time, but it can be pretty disconcerting. The poor sick kitties were not pleased. However, the little puppy tried a couple of squeaky little howls too. Adorable! I'm still trying to figure out how to get the little movie out of my camera...

I'm trying to start up a Bitches Hall of Fame (a name to be worn proudly) -- collect most outrageous deeds of our highly talented lady queens, together with pictures, and make a "feature" on Texas Malamutes http://txmals.ning.com/. Do enter your ladies if you like!

Bitches' Hall of Fame?

I'm thinking it might be fun to put together a Bitches Hall of Fame -- collect most outrageous deeds of our highly talented lady queens, together with pictures, and make a "feature" on Texas Malamutes http://txmals.ning.com/. A couple of great candidates would include the immortal Evil Rita ;-) as well as that craaaazy girl, PatsyCline ... but I bet you my Guerillera Alexandria can give them a run for the money!

Our gals give true meaning to the slogan, Don't Mess With Texas [Mallies]!

Now for those who feel I'm being sexist, feel free to start up a compilation of Baaaad Boys -- we're sure to have quite a few of those as well, can't just be mine ;-)!!

How to get Pack Dog title

OF COURSE there is tons of paperwork, flaming hoops to jump through, forms in triplicate to be notarized ... ;-)

Here's the official scoop:

Pack Dog

1. Dog must carry a daily initial weight equal to a minimum of 30% of the dog's weight. This weight shall not decrease except by normal consumption of items such as food or water.
-- in other words, 80 lb dog starts with 24 lbs of food & water distributed among packs

2. Pack trips must be on natural terrain such as hiking trails or cross country.
--not on streets

3. OPTION 1: Dog must pack a minimum of 30 miles. Each trip must be a minimum of 10 miles per day or an overnight camp out with a 5 miles in and 5 miles out. A minimum of one trip include an overnight camp out.
OPTION 2: Dog must pack a minimum of 40 miles. Each trip must be a minimum of 10 miles per day.
4. Elevation gain may be substituted for mileage in the following manner: 1,000 feet of elevation is equivalent to 1 mile of flat terrain. Elevation gain will be figured as the difference between the highest and lowest points of the trip.
-- not an issue in TX?

5. Packing requirements shall be spread out over a minimum of 2 trips.

6. An impartial witness must sign the form to be sent to the Committee verifying proof of distances and dog competing.
-- e.g., Park personnel at entrance to park ...

As for ILP, the important thing is apparently to get the photos just right -- show the snowshoe paws, the tail waving like a plume over the back, the dark brown eyes, etc. --- in other words, demonstrate that your Mal conforms pretty closely to the AKC standard for Mals -- http://www.akc.org/breeds/alaskan_malamute/

Photo instructions:
Two recent and clear color photographs of the dog;
o one full front view showing the facial characteristics of the dog;
o one view showing the full side profile of the dog standing on a flat surface (not grass).
(ALL PHOTOS SHOULD BE TAKEN AT EYE LEVEL IN A STANDING POSITION,
INCLUDE THE WHOLE DOG IN THE PHOTO. DO NOT SHOOT DOWN ON THE DOG.)

Form (pdf) http://www.akc.org/pdfs/ilpform.pdf
On p. 2, under If this dog was acquired from a National Breed Club Rescue organization, both TAMR and TVA qualify -- you can ask your TAMR or TVA representative if they can vouch for your dog, as they know the breed very well, and can tell a purebred at 60 paces ;-).
On p. 3, Briefly state reason for obtaining an ILP: you can list To compete in Companion and Performance Events

Note that, once you have your ILP, you can compete in Obedience ( ;-)!!) Agility, Lure Coursing and other events, including weight pull and carting.

The Magnificent Ghost is in surgery

Today my little Ghost (75 lbs of grey and white dynamite) is at Love Pet getting the icky growth on his leg removed. While he's under, they will also give his chompers a sparkling cleaning -- I've decided not to have his broken tooth pulled, since it doesn't seem to be bothering him. And after much soul-searching, I've also given the okay to remove his extra dewclaws in the back. I know! Terrible! But they hang out to the sides and get caught in everything. I figure some pain and discomfort now is better than him tearing one off later. He has to wear the Elizabethan collar anyway for the growth removal.

The crucial thing will be the histopathology. I'm just terrified that it will turn out to be a sarcoma, like hemangioperisarcoma ...

Positive thoughts to little Ghost!

Black Ribbon -- Alexandria

Dear Mal friends,

Please delete unread if you'd rather not be vented all over. Here I get a lot of "she's just a dog." Only someone who's been owned by a true Malamute bitch can understand what I mean by "soul mate."

The moon covered her face this morning. Maybe she could not bear to shine on a world bereft of its most precious treasure. Or maybe my Allie is dancing in moondrenched pastures and snowdrifts entirely removed from this world.

Many of you have come to know my Guerillera Alexandria, who has been in renal failure the past 2.5 years. She crashed and was in a great deal of pain just in the last few days -- but not too much to stop her from stealing and eating her favorite Twizzlers -- an entire bag full. >sigh<. Round-the-clock fluids did not help, she was not improving, and it was clearly time to let her go.

Her foster mother from Texas Alaskan Malamute Rescue, who rescued her from the city pound practically from under the needle and then fostered her for a year, met me at the vet's. Lynn fought me tooth and nail before I could adopt Allie. I had never had a Mal, and didn't know squat about them -- I had fallen in love with a friend's huge, gorgeous black-and white Mal when growing up. He was a gentle teddy-bear who let us rest our heads on his tummy and went hiking and riding with us. He lived peacefully with another dog, a cat and a bird. I had a totally skewed view of Mals, in other words. My lifelong dream was to get one as soon as I had a house.

So when I found Allie on the TAMR web site, I called Lynn and asked for her. No reply. Called and left zillions of messages. Nothing. Finally reached Lynn, who declared me completely unsuitable. She finally came over and checked my house and fence. The fence was too low, and I had a RR-mix bitch already -- sorry, no. So I raised the fence, and Sascha was obedience trained within an inch of her life. Finally, Lynn allowed me to meet Allie and all the other fosters and get to know them. Allie showed absolutely no interest in me on our walk, was distant and cold. The other Mals were friendly and cuddly, falling all over me. I had to have her. We agreed on a foster period, and after a meet n greet with Sascha, I took her home.

Allie tested every possible limit. It took her at least a year to feel that she was really home, and would not be sent away again. She killed everything that moved, including outside cats, which sent me into hysterics, having been a cat person all my life. Lynn offered to take her back. I said, you've got to be kidding. It took about a year to get her to Be Nice to the indoor cats, with dog-free zones, barriers, and constant reinforcement. By the last few years, she was sleeping curled up with them, and Felix could thoughtfully nibble on her ears without anything worse happening than getting slimed.

Allie was a magical escape artist. She could be standing lost in thought on one side of the 7' fence. The next second, she would be sauntering nonchalantly down the street a block away, without any apparent effort. She could materialize silently and suddenly when you least expected her. Birds, squirrels, possums, rats, and all other moving things discovered this just a tad too late. She was a true stealth dog -- never broke a sweat, never lost her cool, never missed her mark.

Allie took no guff from anyone, including (esp.) me. And it was she who defined guff. She could be stubborn and ornery, as well as highly creative and hilarious. She had a subversive and sarky sense of humor. Her meaty bones invariably found their way under my pillow or under the sheets; she would deposit various carcasses exactly where I would be sure to step on them, and when she needed to barf, her aim was true and deadly. Her sequencing in agility was quite imaginative, and her interpretations of our drill team figures could be unexpected, and invariably timed after a series of perfect rehearsals that had lulled me into a rash sense of confidence. The more outrageous her transgressions, the more angelic the expression on her darling face, the softer her deep brown eyes, the shinier her halo.

I've always wished that I could meet the people who had her for her first 5 years. She must have been an absolute hellion. What was she like as a baby? why did they give her up?

Like a true alpha, she could often subdue her rowdy colleagues with a curl of the lip or a nasty look. However, if she met a dog she didn't like in a tight corner, all hell broke loose, and she could and did put her antagonists in the hospital. One dog that came at her found his nearest canine hanging by a thread. We fostered several dogs without incident, bringing them through heartworm treatment and getting one's platelet count into the normal range. Then along came The Magnificent Ghost, a badly traumatized goofyhead. The dynamic in the pack changed, and Allie and Sascha became mortal enemies. They had to be separated until Sascha's death -- at least when I was around.

When Rowan the Red joined us, Allie recognized a buddy, and they spent a lot of time hanging out together, making googly-eyes, or just standing front to back like horses in the shade. Allie was getting old and slowing down, and had to get out of the way of Rowan's boisterous clumsiness.

She may have slowed down in her 13th year, but Allie never lost her uncompromising character. She demanded total honesty, not knowing anything else herself. She made no commitments and no expectations, but took all good things as her due. She slept with me every night for 7 years, with very few exceptions. Her breathing was the last thing I heard at night, and the first thing I heard in the morning. I could reach over in the night and touch her, warm, furry, shedding copiously, and chances were, she would stretch and sigh and spoon up against me.

When it came time to let her go, we went to the vet where she had spent so much time on ivs. She was less than thrilled. My last command to her was to lie down on the blanket. She gave me a look, turned her back to me, lay down, and farted demonstrably, as was her wont when peeved. Lynn and I stroked her and talked to her and about her. She put up with us graciously. The vet explained to us what to expect, and gave the injections. When Allie felt them kick in, she gave a good, loud holler. It is perfectly fitting that my Guerillera Alexandria's last utterance should be, "What the @#$%*&?"

Allie was the best thing that ever happened to me. I am a different person now, after 7 years with her, lamentably inadequate, but I owe it to her to continue to strive to be what she wanted me to be -- or treated me as if I was. She was totally central to my life. I was more or less incidental to hers, and she would have left me in a flash at any time. I never understood her in the least. I still don't know anything about Malamutes. My boys are really, really dumb, hopefully because they're still young ... My life feels like a yawning void just now, though I'm still somewhat numb, and just keep talking to Allie as if she hasn't gone. Of course it's not true, and Allie is still with me, the best part of me. I'm so very, very grateful, and not sure how to go on.

Devastated,
Connie

Old dogs

My darling Allie is starting to wander around slowly and stop and just stand there, as if she's not quite sure where she is or what she's doing there. One eye is quite cloudy, and she seems to be somewhat hard of hearing, although all Mals are when they want to be ;-).

Our walks are quite short -- she still enjoys offering to eat the neighborhood hors d'oeuvre dogs, but when she gets tired, she just lies down and refuses to budge. You know how people become more themselves as they age? Well, Allie certainly has. She is one stubborn broad. We have been know to spend up to 20 minutes, her refusing to so much as get up, me pleading, calling, offering treats, walking away, ignoring, lifting, trying to carry, pushing, pulling .... until finally SHE decides to amble nonchalantly away ...

She still touches noses with and licks the indoor cats. Wherever I am in the house, whatever I'm doing, Allie is guaranteed to be within 2 meters' range, fast asleep. I have no idea how she does it, moving from place to place while curled up peacefully -- velcro? bungee cords? -- but she doesn't let me out of her range. When I'm ready to go to bed, there's Allie, smack in the middle of the bed, taking up ALL the pillows, with an angelic smile on her face. When I wake up, there's Allie, breathing intently in my face.

Allie's been in renal failure for over 2 years now. The first time I came home and she didn't come and greet me at the door, I went into panic. I know this is something I'll have to get used to -- but not yet! As long as my good girl is still brave and strong and funny, I'll treasure this time with her. Old dogs are so special, and spoiling them rotten is about all we can do.

Oh, and my dogs also adore pumpkin! It regulates stools either way, and seems to be perfectly healthy in small amounts. Try sweet potato, too -- mine adore it, even microwaved ...

Re: the furminator debate

I also picked one up, seduced by the video of the same brush dealing with Mal and cat-fluff. So far we find that:
- the cats both HATE it and are going back to their old favorite brush; apparently, that slight pull before it cuts is pretty unpleasant
- medium-coat Allie likes it and it's pretty effective with her undercoat
- it's completely useless on longish, softish-coat Rowan - but he does great with the twirly-tined rake anyway
- it pulled about a bushel of fluff off plush, short-coat Ghost, line-brushing, this about 2 weeks after professional grooming. I can't say he enjoyed it much,and it did feel pretty destructive, but he looks splendid. ;-)
So we'll keep using it but sparingly, and since the only thing they really love is being ShopVac-ed, and a cool dip in the kiddie-pool, still do that too.

Black Ribbon: Sascha

I am sad to report the passing of my little Rhodesian Ridgeback mix, Sascha, a constant companion of my Malamute boys.

I was there at Sascha's birth, adopted her when she was a scrawny little thing, and then had to figure out what to do with that there dog -- I had only had cats all my life and was a staunch cat person. Sascha grew up amongst cats and was a bit of a cat herself. When she started to grow and get bigger and stronger, I had no idea what to do with her, but a friend told me about obedience classes. She had to suffer through my first shot at obedience training. Traumatic for us both! But we kept at it, and progressed to agility obedience.

Sascha was bitten by a pit when young and had a scar on her butt all her life. It made her somewhat skittish toward strange dogs, but she warmed up to them very quickly, and adored "her" Malamute boys. When I first adopted Allie, she and Sascha were inseparable. When Ghost came along several years later, however, the group dynamics changed, and suddenly the girls developed a mutual desire to see the color of each others' insides. Since then, the girls have been kept apart, and Sascha has enjoyed the company of each boy in turn. In the past few months, as Allie has gotten weaker, she and Sascha have come to an understanding, and they have been outside together again, companionable as a couple of old ladies.

We enjoyed our walks together, which included lots of sit-down-stands and treats. Her down-stay always included a Navy-Seals-crawl, accompanied by a wide grin and mischievous brown eyes. Her idea of "fetch" was to grab the ball and try to play keep-away with it, zooming around me in circles and trying to get me to chase her. She played the Malamutes' reindeer games just like a Mal, grabbing them by the scruff, chest-bumping, and joining in the singing when the sirens went by.

Sascha was my first dog, a sweet, gentle lion dog, who taught me that dogs are wonderful people to have around. We will all miss her.

Huggers

Allie is a champion spooner. Nothing better than waking up with a mouthful a Malafur. Wherever I'm sitting, she'll silently and inexorably ooze either onto my feet or onto my lap, whatever's available, and I find myself immobilized.

Rowan is a true Texan -- he dances the two-step. He'll rear up on his hind legs and gently put those huge front paws on my shoulders, and hop like a bunny. If I have a treat, though, he's laser-focused on that, forget about humom ...

The Magnificent Ghost is finally getting it through the concrete upstairs that he's not allowed to jump up on people, so he jumps up sideways NEXT to me, JUST not touching me, and leans in for a quick kiss and a bat of the Big Brown Eyes ... aren't I clever and cute?? He's more of a leaner than a hugger anyway.

M. writes: >Guess they forgot that our malamutes come into their own so to speak by around 2 yrs of age

Huh! Ghost is 3 and we're still waiting ... ;-)

Kohler ad: eskimo

Not that I didn't lust after a Kohler bath before .... but did they
have to make it this appealing ??
Eskimo ad

And yes, I never bathe alone, but there's usually at least one cat on
the side of the bath as well ... which wouldn't really work with the Sok tub ... anybody else's Mals find submerged
humans fascinating?

My friend Frauke's cat, Katze, thought he was in the Coast Guard and used to grab any body part he could find and try to drag her out onto dry land ...

im so mad

gorila aleksandria shode me how to yus this thing i don spel gud butt gotta tel yu mals how meen mi humom is im so mad!!!

wen she lett me owt of mi hows i wen to the dor an it was open an ther was a pray!! jus standing ther! so i grabd it an startd shayking it lik i seen gorila aleksandria do. i never kilt no pray befor but seen g.a. du it plenty times. butt pray mayde nasty scryyching noys an humom ran owt an grabt me an pray an tuk pray away!! tuk pray insyd hows then kaym owt an sed no eeting kats wats a kat i dunno kats i jus lik the teyst of the pray

neks tym il tayk the pray far awey an then eet it ... iv bin keepin an i on the dor yu bett
woooooo oooo wooo pray to yu
rowan the red

im so mad

gorila aleksandria shode me how to yus this thing i don spel gud butt gotta tel yu mals how meen mi humom is im so mad!!!

wen she lett me owt of mi hows i wen to the dor an it was open an ther was a pray!! jus standing ther! so i grabd it an startd shayking it lik i seen gorila aleksandria do. i never kilt no pray befor but seen g.a. du it plenty times. butt pray mayde nasty scryyching noys an humom ran owt an grabt me an pray an tuk pray away!! tuk pray insyd hows then kaym owt an sed no eeting kats wats a kat i dunno kats i jus lik the teyst of the pray

neks tym il tayk the pray far awey an then eet it ... iv bin keepin an i on the dor yu bett
woooooo oooo wooo pray to yu
rowan the red

Ghost report

Brief report on The Magnificent Ghost:
Ghost spent Sunday night at the emergency hospital. I came home to find him not trying to jump over the gate. Panic! He was lying down in the mud room, got up really hesitantly, limping badly on the left hind. His expressive face just miserable. No vomit, diarrhea or blood in sight. My heart beating out of my chest, speed dial to the vet, called around to find one without a wait. His tummy distended and hard. Bloat?? I got him to limp to the car and broke all speed limits.

Hustled straight in to X-ray. Ages later, the vet comes in with a funny expression on her face. Oh no! He swallowed one of Allie's sharps! He's dying! She shows me the xrays. A huge black sausage almost the size of his whole abdomen! Even weirder-looking from the side: textbook view of large intestine, distended and filled with gas! The galoot can't move because he's full of hot air!!

Almost $400 and a great deal of flatulence later, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed little stinker (!!) sashays out to play up to everyone in the waiting room, who declare that he ought to be in the movies (they have no idea!!), thoroughly licks the face of a delighted child, offers to eat a chocolate Lab, and gets smacked by a cat. Mals!

Still have no idea what he ate, other than Sascha's hi-calorie food. I got rid of the chicken that Allie killed, haven't seen any other corpses. Will need to get job with vet soon. What will they get up to next?

The Secret of Mal Success; or: The Gig is Up

Reverend General Reign,

The tale I am about to impart, dear General, will confirm once again that on the scale of intelligence, at the very lowest end, we may find:
3: Rhodesian Ridgeback mixes
2: Malamute Males, immature age
1: humans

I blame myself, of course, for not training That Young Sprout, The Magnificent Ghost, as he styles himself, more rigorously in the fine arts of Malamute behavior. In my defense, however, there is not much there to work with, as you shall see.

Our story unfolds before the following background. Our humom has long been faced by two puzzling and apparently unconnected conundra:
a) The M. Ghost eats only about 1.5 cups of Natural Balance Fish and Sweet Potato a day, and yet he stubbornly remains somewhat, aah, shall we say, portly
b) Sascha the Rhodesian Ridgeback x, now in her senior years, and still alive despite my best efforts, eats more than 4.5 cups of food daily, and remains skin and bones.

Yesterday, Sascha, while dashing after a squirrel, crashed into a concrete block and cut herself (much to my glee, of course). At feeding time, humom shut Sascha in her run as usual, but this time, she stayed with her to make sure she was okay. Well, who should come frisking around the corner, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but the Magnificent Ghost, licking his chops after a full meal.

The Idiotic Ghost proceeded to lie down next to Sascha's run, lift up a corner of the chain link that he had previously loosened, extend a long and chubby paw, hook Sascha's almost-full food dish toward him and proceed to scoop out mounds of Sascha's high-calorie food. All this, mind you, in full view of humom, who was not only laughing her head off, but passionately regretting the absence of a camera.

Now if there is one thing I have tried to impart to the Idiotic Ghost, it is that We Work By Stealth. Humans are incredibly stupid, but even they catch on if we pull our stunts right in front of them. T'uh. My exasperation was so great that I almost didn't bother to dispatch the hen that wandered into our yard. Almost, but not quite. A few silent, economical moves, and goodnight, Irene. Will that Ghost ever learn to live up to his name?

Over to you
Your most humble and obedient servant
Guerillera Alexandria