Jung Test Comments

Here's the part where I get to make fun of you using your Jung test results (and Mark got the same results as me, for those of you who are curious):

Kristie: it figures.

Chani: You? Judging? I have no comment. (ha ha!)

Megan: Dude, you're just not introverted. You obviously cheated on the test. Minus five points for you.

Angela: I actually couldn't have predicted what you would get. But, doing more in-depth research about it is TOTALLY YOU.

K: It's suitable that you got "Feeling" instead of "Thinking". You're so compassionate - it fits. Disclaimer though: Mark is upset that I wrote this about you, because "it doesn't sound nice". I will try to make him feel better by announcing that K is not dumb. She's just compassionate.

The thing is, out of everyone who told me their scores, we ALL got "Judging" instead of "Perceiving". Does that mean that I can only stand to hang out with other judgemental people? Hmm...

Mastermind

I took the Jung Typology Test today. It tells you what traits make up your personality. The title given to my particular combination of traits (INTJ - Introversion, iNtuition, Thinking, Judgment) is "Mastermind".

Huh.


It takes less than five minutes - go take the test! Come back and comment, or email me, and tell me what you are. We can have fun making fun of each other.

(Personal note to someone who reads this blog but shall remain nameless: I am indeed an INTROVERT. In fact, I got an 89% in that category. When I say I'm uncomfortable socializing with the vast, vast army of people who are your friends and distant relatives, I'm not just being difficult.)

In other news, I've made a bit of a leap in the animal rescue world. Although I am not a "small dog person" in particular, I do own two small dogs. I also became involved with the small dog rescue groups that are active around here a few months ago, but it really, really hasn't worked very well. The two active groups here are both based like a thousand miles away in another province. (I cut ties with one of them a few months ago and told you briefly about it here). I don't know what the hell the people in charge of these groups are thinking, but I wince every time I hear about some sort of decision they've made.

Like, when we fostered that Shih-Tzu puppy. A family applied to adopt him, but oops, would not be ready to actually own a dog for at least a month. The group approved the adoption (!!) with no input from me, and told (not asked) me to just keep the dog hanging around for another month until the people were ready.

I told them there was a dog in my local pound that I needed to take, as there are no other foster homes available to get dogs out of the pound during cold weather, but I was told that since I had the little Shih-Tzu, I was not allowed to foster for my other group at the same time. My other group would have been fine with it. So the dog, MJ, was expected to rot in the pound or be euthanized while I provided free babysitting service for A MONTH for this potential adoptive family that was not yet ready to adopt.

Then? Then? The approved adoptive family wasn't ready at the end of the month after all, and asked for more time. I suggested that we either ask the people to put him in paid boarding, or move on to another family who was actually ready to adopt, since we'd received multiple applications for this dog. Nope. Apparently there is free dog boarding at my house, and apparently I'm good enough to raise a puppy and buy his food, but not good enough to have input into the adoption process at all.

So yesterday, out of the blue, the president of that group sends out a condescending email to everyone that said a LOT of stuff that I won't get into because this is a blog; not a novel. Okay, just one thing: she chastised everyone for trying to adopt foster dogs out too quickly. The quality of the adoptive homes was fine, and all vet work has always been completed beforehand; it's just that we're adopting them out too fast. Mmkay. Do you KNOW how many homeless dogs there are out there?

It makes no sense to me, and seems quite counter-productive. The awful thing is, EVERYTHING they decree seems to make no sense and seems quite counter-productive. Then, we get long emails like the one from yesterday that make us feel like we're schoolchildren who have been caught passing notes in class. We're told that all the work we're doing to rescue dogs is breaking "the rules" in various ways, and that these "issues" needed to be "addressed" by us all following the long list of seemingly arbitrary rules, despite the fact that everyone in Nova Scotia is scrambling to deal with an influx of small dogs in the rescue system, and that following the (unhelpful) rules means that some dogs don't get rescued.

Yeah, I shared my thoughts with her in an email, then I quit the group, then I started my own small dog rescue group. Everyone that is/was a member of the other group and lives in Nova Scotia promptly joined. They were all pretty fed up with the mean emails/power trips, and some of them had also resigned after reading that latest email from on high.

I didn't really WANT to organize a small dog rescue group, but there are none based in Nova Scotia so it kind of makes sense.

Call me crazy. I know that's what you're already thinking anyway.

Saved by a Shoe Lace

THIS IS A GORE WARNING. DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS POST IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE GORE.


Okay, now that that's over with, I don't expect any complaints. Chani, I'm looking at you.

The weekend was so very nice, we decided that we would trespass on the property that we're buying (but don't yet officially own). Since it's winter and the property is just a giant forested tract of land covered in a thick layer of snow, we went snowshoeing to see what we could see. Our friend Jay went with us.

It was a great hike! We even saw a porcupine rambling around!


The boys admired all the giant granite rock formations, and we slowly meandered through the woods, occasionally checking the GPS to see where we were.

We found a strange little patch of snow that seemed disturbed and, well, kinda dirty looking. There were tufts of fur scattered around. Oh no!! Further investigation turned up this gem, among other things:


It was a deer. There were bits scattered over a wide area, so we figured lots of meat-eating critters had been in on the feast. A few minutes later we found some clear tracks and decided that coyotes had definitely benefited from the deer's demise. Maybe they caused it too; who knows. Circle of life.


I'm glad I didn't find this stuff when I hiked the property alone a few weeks ago!

We made it further on snowshoes than I had gone before, and really just thoroughly enjoyed ourselves out in the mild winter air. We eventually turned around to make the long trek back to the road, and then a pocket of snow collapsed under my snowshoes and I fell. I looked down at my foot, and discovered that the bindings on my snowshoe had snapped.

It had taken us almost two hours to get this far.

It would be dark soon.

My snowshoe was broken.

At least the coyotes wouldn't likely be very hungry.

The boys pulled me to my feet and put their clever heads together. They made a few jokes at my expense, and then they managed to rig my bindings back together with one of Jay's boot laces that he very kindly donated to the cause of "getting Julie back to the car".

The new and improved snowshoe worked, and we made our way back through the woods.


The trees were beautiful. The giant rock formations were wonderful. The views were amazing, and the hike was well worth it. Nature is cool.

Chunk

So we have a big clumsy clown of a Pit Bull in our house right now, and he is named Wilbur. Only I can't help but call him "Chunk" instead. It just really fits - trust me on this one.

Chunk is a sweet and happy and cute young dog, but also a stubborn, strong, overly excitable bull in a china shop at the same time. He's a good dog but needs... patience? Is that the word I'm looking for? The fact that he pulls the door off his kennel (from the inside!!) when we're not home, and then eats all our Q-tips, and then later on gets so happy when our friends come over that he accidentally pees himself, and then immediately proceeds to drown said friends in the most lovable kisses imaginable, results in some emotions that I feel I cannot accurately describe in writing. Chunk has to be experienced in person.


I got a call from a person who had been approved to adopt him yesterday! Yay! Most people who call about our foster dogs have a list of questions, or are unsure and want me to lead the conversation, and talk reticently about meeting the dog before making a decision, but this lady? She was all like "when can I come get him? Is tomorrow too soon?" She was confident, bold, forward, decisive.

This is EXACTLY what Chunk needs.

I liked the woman right away, but carefully tried to warn her about Chunk's less wonderful qualities, which mostly have to do with his lack of self-restraint, with a little bit of clumsiness and immense pit bull strength thrown in. I wanted her eyes to be open. He'll be a superb dog in the right home, but a terror in the wrong home. In either case, he needs work.


She was absolutely unflappable and told me she was taking him home tomorrow. Guys, I am really hoping that she and her family love him to death. I hope they love everything about him, and I hope he fits nicely into their household. They'll have a one-week trial sleepover, and if all goes well he'll be theirs forever.

She'll be here in two hours - wish our Chunk luck in his new life!

Girly Weekend

The group of friends that I have fallen in with have a few traditions. One of them is that all the girls get away for a weekend once or twice a year, go to a cottage or cabin, and just chill. The rules are: no pets, no partners, no kids.


We had ourselves a girly weekend this past weekend. It was the first one I've attended. It was relaxing, inspiring, and completely ridiculous, all at the same time.


From the piñata to the scorched pine nuts to the horror movies to Chani drunkenly passing out and waking up like three separate times during the same evening, it was an unbridled riot of girly giggling.


We stayed at a little cottage overlooking the ocean that was only about ten minutes outside of town. It was fun times and good food.

There was just one thing that really bothered me. Should I say it? Will it ruin any friendships? Okay, here it goes: What the *%&$* is going on in the film "Eraserhead"? Chani is no longer allowed to choose the movies.


She can make cupcakes whenever she want to, though.

Avascular Necrosis

It snowed a lot on Friday. The consistency of this particular snowfall was powdery and fine, and because it's been so cold, the snow has stayed that way instead of condensing into a manageable viscous mass on the ground. The wind has been blowing this snow (about two feet of it) all around the valley and we have been forced to re-shovel little paths in our back yard for the dogs about two or three times a day for like four days now, even though it hasn't snowed since Friday. We shovel, and the wind continues to blow and an hour later the paths are filled in with this vindictive powdery snow.

Anyway.


We had a jam party on Saturday night. Not jam as in preserves, but an unrehearsed rock concert staged for a smattering of friends. Mark played guitar and a bit of bass until the wee hours of the night, and Captain D. set up his fancy high-tech drum set and kept an enthusiastic beat the entire time.


Me? I hung out near the fire for the most part.


We got home late that night to discover that Minerva, our miracle kitten, was dragging her back leg and in pain. Crap! We examined her with concern, and went to bed in the hopes that the boo-boo would correct itself by morning. After all, kittens do stupid things all the time. On Sunday she still seemed hurt, but occasionally walked using the leg. We made a vet appointment anyway for Monday morning and took her in.


The funny thing is, she's had leg trouble before. When she was a tiny kitten and just learning to walk, one leg and then another suddenly went lame and veeery slooowly improved over time. She'd been to the vet numerous times at that stage, and even had x-rays done, but as her bones had not yet fully formed, the x-rays showed nothing but a blur of cartilage.

We had thought nothing more of her early leg issues until now. She's almost six months old, so when the vet took x-rays this week, we were able to see what the problem was. The ethereal images of bone and flesh showed that her femur - the upper leg bone - ended strangely with no ball on the end of the bone - it was as if the bone just petered out. This is actually exactly what happened. Likely due to her traumatic start in life, Minerva's leg bone in that leg does not join up to her hip bone in any sort of sensible fashion. As the leg bone was developing, the blood vessels simply did not provide an adequate supply of blood, and the bone died off on the end. She now has a sharply ended bone and some loose fragments where a ball joint should sit in the pelvic socket. Those pieces are currently rubbing painfully against her pelvic bone.

It's called Avascular Necrosis.

She's too delicate to do a hip replacement surgery. In fact, the vet says she is currently about the size of a three-month-old kitten, and is not likely to get larger because her growth plates have already fused. She won't lose her leg, but they may have to perform surgery on her to remove the bone fragments and grind down the sharp end of her femur to create a false joint. She's getting spayed in two weeks, and if her leg is not working properly by then, they'll operate on her leg at that time.

I feel so bad. This poor little girl has had to fight all her life, and now this. It's manageable and she'll be okay, but this poor kitty deserves a break.