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Posts Tagged ‘animals’

Diary #818

As you can see, Axel has continued his progress from nervous wreck to very good boy.  I caught this picture of he and Speck bathing together on the 14th, and I’ve seen them even closer than that on occasion.  Speck has returned to her habit of wanting to be close to me while I’m unwinding on the sofa, though not as much while I’m working at the computer (which is probably for the best); he lies on the other side of me, sometimes cuddled very close to my legs, so he and Speck are less than an arm’s length apart for hours.  He doesn’t even stare at her any more, nor does he try to chase Rocky or Lilith when he’s in the atrium, so last week I took a chance on bringing him through the chicken yard with me to go up the ramp, and he barely even looked at the hens.  Yesterday, I decreased his trazodone from 75 mg/day (where he was for all of February) down to 50, and in two more weeks I plan to just start giving him 50 at bedtime rather than splitting it into two doses; I figure that will give me an idea if we’re getting close to taking him off of the meds entirely, since his blood levels should be pretty low by the time each evening rolls around.  I think the warmer, drier weather is also helping, because he can spend a lot more time running around and sunbathing outdoors and playing with Trip, so he has less pent-up energy at the end of the day.  Assuming that all goes well, it looks like he’ll be off the meds by June, and I imagine by the end of the summer his bad times should be no more than a dim memory in his little doggie brain.

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A young rock is probably a good thing.  –  Derek Leung

Though Fred Smith left Blondie before their first album was recorded, I decided to feature this little-known, very weird, very punk song from their debut album because I’ve always liked it.  The links above the video were provided by Nun Ya, Kevin Wilson, Jeremy Malcolm, Jesse Walker, Franklin Harris, Yasmin Nair, and Nun Ya again, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #816

Laying chickens are bred for maximum egg output, so they tend to have shorter lives; two of our older hens died in the past few weeks at three and four years old, respectively, and both were laying up until the end. But Jae brought in four Ameraucanas a few years ago, which are now six years old; they don’t lay nearly as often, but they’re still laying at what is quite an advanced age for chickens.  When I went to collect my eggs on Saturday, I found this in the middle of the henhouse floor; it’s even smaller than pullet eggs, and since it’s green it’s obviously from one of the Ameraucanas.  Presumably, near the end of their lives they experience something analogous to menopause, and this is the result; it does make me wonder just how much longer I’ll still be getting at least some output from elderly hens that have always laid more eggs than I expected.

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Diary #814

Axel has been slowly improving where Speck is concerned; if she crosses the floor while I’m in the room, he just watches her intently but doesn’t move toward her.  And every time she completes a back-and-forth I tell him he’s a good boy and give him a treat.  But it’s much harder to train a dog to refrain from doing something than it is to train him to do something, so progress has been slow.  But last week, we hit three landmarks.  On Tuesday, CenturyLink finally sent someone to fix my internet (it was a corroded wire in the node out in the lane), and when the technician came into the house Axel barked at him once, smelled him, and then was calm for the rest of the time.  Then on Wednesday, I had to go to Seattle; I left him outside when I left at 11 AM, had Chekhov come by about 4 to feed the farm animals and let Axel into the house, and then he was alone until I got home about 11 PM.  He was pretty excited when I got back, but I was able to calm him quickly and there were no signs he had acted up (chased Speck or torn anything up) while I was gone for about 4x as long as I’ve ever left him before.

But the best was late Friday night; he was with me on the sofa while I was watching my show, then around midnight he had to go out.  He was gone for a while, probably doing poo-poo, and while he was out Speck came and sat on my lap, then moved to the arm of the sofa.  When he came back in, he got back in his spot, and though he kept looking at her he didn’t lunge or growl or anything else.  I stayed there a while between them, petting them both, then eventually got up to check my social media one last time before bed, and took this picture during that time.  He kept looking at her and occasionally at me, but did nothing bad for about an hour, at which point Speck decided to go back into Grace’s room.  And of course I praised and rewarded him.  Then Sunday night they got even closer; Speck came to cuddle with me on the sofa while Axel was right next to me, less than an arm’s length away.  So I think we’re getting there; as of Sunday I’ve lowered his trazodone to 75mg/day, and I’ll keep it there until the beginning of March.  And within a few more months I think he will complete his transition from nervous wreck to happy, well-adjusted puppy dog.

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Get back in the game, or I’ll shoot you.  –  Andrew Lawson

Due to the plethora of guillotine memes that have populated social media since the current guillotine-worthy regime took power, I’ve often thought of this song, but it was the recent death of Brigitte Bardot which finally moved me to feature it.  The links above the video were provided by Nicholas Grossman, Jesse Walker, The Onion, Nun Ya, Jesse Walker again, Jessica Pishko, and Popehat, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #813

The climate here at Sunset is not unlike that of England; rainy and on the chilly side, and rarely extremely hot or extremely cold.  Because the utility room containing the well and the water tank are inside the atrium, I don’t need to take any precautions if the overnight low is going to be warmer than -3o C, which is usually the case for >80 days of the winter.  And if it isn’t going to be lower than about -5o C, all I need to do is turn on a heater in the utility room and let one faucet run at a trickle.  But once in a while it gets colder than that for a night or two, so I need to take a few extra precautions, like running the hot water tap for a few minutes whenever I get up to use the bathroom (since the propane heater is outside).  It was like that Friday and Saturday nights; if the daytime temperatures are reasonable I don’t need to make any special arrangements for the big animals, because they just huddle together in the stable and emerge to sun themselves after dawn.  But our cats are not used to these kind of temperatures, so I bring the outside cats inside on nights like that.  Rocky got the atrium bathroom and Lilith the old one; I need to keep the door closed so she and Speck won’t fight (and Axel adds another complication).  But Sunday night was back to normal, with a low of only -2o C, so I was able to suspend the freeze protocols.  And unless we get some stray cold front later in February, that’s probably it for this winter.

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Diary #812

Axel is definitely settling into life at Sunset.  As I’ve written before, I’ve been reducing his medication by 50mg/day every week, and now we’re down to 100mg/day.  Last week I tried to give that to him in one bedtime dose rather than splitting it into two 50 mg doses at bedtime & midday, but that left him a bit too exuberant in the afternoon and evening, and he tried to chase Speck a couple of times.  He immediately stops when I say “Leave it!” but I want to get him to the point where he doesn’t chase her at all, so for right now I’m going to hold him at 50mg twice daily until the end of January, then I’ll try to nudge it down by 25 daily mg a month until we can get him off of it completely.  On at least 5 or 6 occasions in the past week Speck has trotted through the living room right in front of him with no reaction beyond his perking up a bit, even without my saying anything, so I think we’re on the right track.  I think it helps that Trip, whom he seems to look to for guidance, does not have any issue with cats, but we’ll see; unfortunately, Trip has this weird habit of occasionally running up to Jonathan and barking at him for no apparent reason, and as of Sunday Axel seems to have picked up that habit from him.  I’m not too worried because Jonathan just stands there and looks at him like, “What the hell are you on about, dog?” and he’s much too big for the dogs to hurt.  So one thing at a time: “Don’t chase things smaller than you” is much more important than “Don’t irritate things big enough to stomp on you”, because the latter tends to be self-reinforcing.

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The happy ending here is that despite all their ridiculous mumbo-jumbo and frantic posturing, Death will win as it always does.Ave Mortis, Imperator Mundi.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-13T18:51:08.690Z

Lost Generation: 1890-1910 (roughly)"Greatest" Generation: 1911-1928Beat generation: 1929-1945Baby Boom: 1946-1963Generation X: 1964-1981Millennials: 1982-2000Generation Z: 2001-2018Generation Alpha: 2019-2036 (end subject to change, depending)

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-13T21:00:54.989Z

Given the corrupting effect of power, the most powerful person on the planet will INEVITABLY become the worst person on the planet, even if he wasn't to start with.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-15T18:12:36.252Z

"What if flapping your arms very hard will enable you to fly?"

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-16T18:08:56.505Z

A *big* step up from letting politicians decide.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-18T18:06:59.349Z

A one predisposed to disobedience since childhood, who has suffered social censure for that inclination since the early 1970s, I've always viewed the American self-image as "rebellious" as a crock of self-aggrandizing bullshit.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-19T19:42:19.764Z

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-20T02:48:07.776Z

My paternal line did not emigrate to America; America bought our home from Napoleon. IOW America chose *us* rather than vice-versa.My late friend Grace's ancestors were here long before the 1st Europeans.And both of us would tell you that people sworn in this morning are just as American as us.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-20T18:19:01.037Z

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-22T03:55:50.740Z

My X's anniversary is also MY anniversary, though I would nor more expect a computer to grasp that than I would trust it to compose a post on the topic, presuming I was such a narcissist that I would request such a childish thing.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-23T18:10:08.836Z

On the First Day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-25T17:28:38.681Z

The process of obtaining a literature degree taught me that "literary" fiction is rarely better than genre fiction, and frequently worse.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-26T18:03:49.571Z

I have often said that modern US "conservatives" long for an imaginary past, while modern US "progressives" long for an imaginary future.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-27T18:28:49.015Z

The very fact that there is no murderer registry tells you everything you need to know about the "sex offender" registry.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-29T18:15:33.474Z

So basically, the entire movie is a Rickroll.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-30T08:08:05.987Z

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2025-12-31T17:50:42.716Z

What book is sacred enough to you to get sworn in on?

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-02T18:45:41.673Z

Slopmaker who makes money from slop wants you to move beyond wanting quality and embrace his slop.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-03T08:33:17.438Z

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-04T02:41:43.416Z

Axolotls always make me smile. I mean, look at this cute little booger! See its happy little face? How could you not smile?

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-04T08:10:14.387Z

How many branches of the Vichy government did General de Gaulle control?

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-05T18:17:30.100Z

Psychosis is a reason, just not a sane one.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-06T07:57:18.251Z

Collectivism is a mental illness.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-08T18:07:26.157Z

Mammon. The Biblical name for this deity is Mammon. As in, "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon."

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-09T17:59:08.165Z

Mrs. Boudreaux, please get off the line; we really need to make a call. I promise we'll be off in five minutes.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-10T18:01:58.758Z

My turn! It just dawned on me that if the ICE agent were a circus clown, and the woman the ghost of Anne Boleyn, and the roles were reversed, but the ghost threw her head at the clown instead of shooting him, he could juggle it and The Coulrophobia Lobby would be fully on the side of the ghost.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-11T03:59:55.538Z

That is such a cute little piggy though, definitely MUCH cuter than any cop deserves.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-12T19:58:14.596Z

Good grief, my Barbie was a scientist despite having come in an ordinary Barbie box rather than a "scientist" box with a lab coat.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-13T18:48:52.787Z

"Sorry, neither."

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-14T08:56:39.781Z

Perhaps if you'd stop calling politicians "leaders", they'd stop treating y'all like followers.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-15T08:27:31.066Z

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-16T19:00:03.300Z

A national treasure.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-17T18:58:44.504Z

Mu.

Maggie McNeill (@maggiemcneill.bsky.social) 2026-01-18T18:25:47.300Z

 

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There’s a bear under my house, and there’s nothing I can do about it!  –  Ken Johnson

I think my old friend Terry would’ve loved this video, provided by Mike Masnick; he also provided the first link above it, and those after that were provided by Jason Kuznicki, Nun Ya, Jesse Walker, The Onion, and Popehat, in that order.

From the Archives

I find paywalls distasteful, and so many people find this blog valuable as a resource I just can’t bring myself to install one.  Furthermore, I find ad delivery services (whose content I have no say over) even more distasteful.  But as I’m now semi-retired from sex work, I can’t self-sponsor this blog by myself any longer.  So if you value my writing enough that you would pay to see it if it were paywalled, please consider subscribing; there are four different levels to fit all budgets.  Or if that doesn’t work for you, please consider showing your generosity with a one-time donation; you can Paypal to maggiemcneill@earthlink.net or else email me at the same address to make other arrangements.  Thanks so much!

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Diary #809

Several of y’all have asked me to keep y’all up to date on how Axel is adjusting to life at Sunset; here’s a picture I took on Christmas day before most of the guests arrived.  Axel is in late middle age at 9, but he’s actually the youngest of this pack: Trip, to viewer left, is 12, and Hallie, to viewer right, is about 11.  She’s my friend Sophie’s dog, so she’s a frequent visitor and mostly knows how to behave herself at Sunset.  Axel is no longer a nervous wreck; he’s largely pretty calm, and seems quite happy most of the time.  The shelter vet sent him home with a bottle of 100 mg trazodone tablets and some rather vague directions regarding dosage, but I quickly found about 400 mg a day worked well.  I’ve been weaning him off of them at 50 daily mg/week, so as of Saturday we’re now down to 200 mg (one pill at bedtime and one in the early afternoon) with no noticeable effect on his behavior.  He even did well on Christmas day with all the company, though people did feed him too many treats so he had an upset tummy that night (the trazodone may aggravate that).  The only behavioral problem that is still a major issue is his tendency to chase cats; if I’m in the room a quick “leave it!” command works to stop him, but when I’m not in the room he will still do it (as I discovered to my great irritation when I was rudely awakened at 2 AM on Christmas Eve and had to clean up cat piss and cat shit from the kitchen, where they were literally scared out of Speck when he attacked).  She was not hurt, but since I can’t ensure that will be true next time I’ve moved her food, water fountain and litterbox into Grace’s room, where Speck enjoys spending time anyway; at night I can close the door to protect her.  But I’m working on breaking the bad habit (which his first owner either allowed or actively encouraged, as some sociopaths are wont to do), and given that he’s an extremely intelligent dog (dramatically more so than poor Trip, who is a low-watt bulb), I have confidence he will eventually learn that attacking his fellow-residents is not cool.

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