THE OTHER END OF THE LEASH

Whoops… thought I  had posted this last week.  eeeps.

Willie had smoke coming out of his ears last Thursday night; I felt so sorry for him. I was giving a book talk at the west side Madison Border’s and brought Willie along to illustrate some of the tricks that Karen and I write about in Play Together, Stay Together.  He had little trouble with the ones he knows well, but got hung up on transferring a cue from one hand to the other. I have been teaching him to do a ‘high five’ when I hold my hand up vertically, finger tips pointing upward, and to touch his nose to my hand when it is held horizontally, fingers pointing sideways. That’s not a trivial distinction to get, it took him a few days to get it when presented the cue with my right hand.

The day before the talk I had asked him to make the same distinction when I signaled with my left hand, knowing that it wouldn’t necessarily transfer. It hadn’t, at first it was like starting over, but within two sessions Willie was responding correctly to both cues, given by either hands. However, I’d never tried it out of the house, and Will had only done it right a few times. I warned the crowd at Borders (thanks for coming, it was great fun!) that this was new for Willie… both a new trick and a new context, and sure enough, Will performed perfectly on the right hand, and then fell apart on the left.  First he touched when he should have lifted his paw, then vice versa. Soon he began doing both at the same time (so smart). I quickly went back to the hand he’d known so well, but even that threw him. Soon he couldn’t get anything right, and I felt sure that he was mentally panicking. I swear there could have been smoke coming out of his ears.

He looked so worried, and so confused. Willie seems to take learning SO seriously, and if he can’t figure out what to do it seems to fry his brain. Trying to work through it at that point would have been counter-productive. When he is confused he behaves as though he can’t think at all (a feeling most of us know well, me from organic chemistry exams), so we went back to simple things he knows to do. After a few easy tricks, I played fetch with him to give him a chance to relax. We did lots of tricks later on that Willie did beautifully, but I chose not to do any more work on the new trick, because I didn’t think it would help at that point. (That decision resulted in an interesting discussion with the audience about when to work through something, and when to drop it for awhile–not always an easy call to make.)

I’m glad this all happened at Borders–it  was a great ‘teaching moment’ for non-professional trainers. What a perfect illustration of how hard it is to learn something in which you don’t know the goal and you don’t know what the cue is supposed to be. Think about it.  Willie had no idea of the ‘hand up versus hand sideways’ distinction; he well may have been focused on something else entirely. And why would the direction of one hand generalize to another hand? No reason if you’re a dog. And what possible relevance to a dog’s life could a different in the direction of our paws make? I think it’s so hard to remember how very much we ask of our dogs, and how so much of what they learn must make no sense to them. Sometimes I think it’s actually harder for the really smart ones. (I often responded “I”m so sorry” when a client came in and told me how smart their dog was.)

Meanwhile, winter continues. Not as cold as last week, but still well under zero at night, single digits during the day. I have to admit I am sick of having getting dressed being a major event in the day: Put on silk leggings, put on silk undershirt, put on turtleneck, sweater, vest over sweater. Put pants on over leggings, put metallic sock liners under wool socks. Put on boots, hat, scarf, parka, gloves. At night, take off all of the above, put on cuddle duds (soft cozy leggings and under shirt) put on flannel nightgown, wrap up in thick bathrobe, 2 pairs of socks, pull extra wool blanket over other blankets and bedspread, get all exposed skin under the covers while still holding on to the book…

But hey, last night a Great Horned Owl called my way to the barn after the dogs and I followed our deer’s hoof prints up the hill. The coyotes have been yip-howling like some crazed rock band for weeks now, while the snow shines a blue-tinged glow over everything, and even on a cloudy night you can see without a flashlight. It’s spare and quiet and slices everything to the bone. And as much as I’d love a balmy beach right now, I still love it. Most of the time.

Here’s a photo I didn’t mean to take–I just hit the wrong button at the wrong time. It makes me laugh for some reason, so here it is–Willie and the kitchen (your computer is fine, the photo is totally out of focus).

Apologies… I sliced the tip of my finger with a newly sharpened knife and it makes typing ridiculously slow and tedious.  As a result I am terribly behind in most everything I have to do on a computer, which more often than not, is most everything I have to do for much of the day. At least it’s not a dog’s paw–I had a dog who badly cut his a pad on his paw and it was absurd trying to keep it clean and dry!

In lieu of words, here are 2 photos a fantastic photographer, Nic Berard, took of Will (the same photographer who did the photos on the top of the blog and website), Lassie and me.  I love the one of Will playing because he looks half insane (and who doesn’t when they are completely lost in exuberance?) and I love that Lassie is in the background looking engaged and youthful (she was 14 in this photo.)  (And also, it’s wonderful to look at green grass too.. what a switch from the 8 below and snow we had this morning.). The second photo I love because it is a realistic portrait of me and Will, him young and vibrant and me Botox-less, crinkly-faced but happy.

Wheee! I just learned how to post video! Here’s my favorite trick. Watch what Willie does when I say “Are You Ashamed of Yourself?”

I started teaching my University of Wisconsin course yesterday, titled “The Biology and Philosophy of Human/Animal Relationships.” It is, granted, a lot of work, but I love doing it. I love the intellectual stimulation it creates, and I love working with 150 smart, motivated young people with minds like steel traps (okay, most of them) who are hungry to learn how to relate their education with the day-to-day issues of life.  We’ll be talking tomorrow about “humans and animals.” Or, is it “humans, and other animals?” What really makes us different from the rest of the animal world, and what makes us the same?

I love thinking about those questions, and I love how dogs are always reminding me that while we humans are special… different in so many ways than all the other animals on earth, we are also so very much the same. It makes me feel connected to the rest of nature. I like thinking of myself as an animal, but historically many people have been uncomfortable with that linkage. One of my favorite quotes is from the wife of the Bishop of Worcester, who, upon reading The Descent of Man by Charles Darwin said something like; “Oh dear, I do hope it isn’t true (that we are related to apes). But if it is true, I hope it doesn’t become generally known.” Too funny, too British (I can say that, me mum was British).

What about you? Are you put off by someone saying “humans and other animals?” Do you like thinking of your connection to your dog, as another mammal, or do you feel like that demeans you as a person?

No new photos from the farm today, but forgive me some nostalgia. Here’s a photo of me and my late Great Pyrenees, Tulip. She died last February, but for some reason I’ve been missing her terribly these last few days. Maybe it’s the lambs, and knowing that she’s not there to protect them anymore …

Much warmer now, might even be up to 20 degrees. Wow, feels like an entirely different place. The lambs are doing beautifully. On Sunday Jim and I opened up the panel dividing the two ewes with lambs and let them all in together. We wanted to wait to be sure that the lambs were well bonded to their moms (and vice versa) and that they were stable and healthy enough to tolerate being shoved around a bit by the ewe that wasn’t their mom. Given how vigorous Snickers was (I am being so kind here, using the word vigorous instead of several others I can think of) when she was trying to reject her own little ewe lamb, I didn’t want to subject the single lamb to that kind of abuse. However, we don’t call him White Dude for nothing. He looks like he’s in training for a starring role in professional wrestling, so we figured he would be able to handle some ‘nudges’ from Snickers.

(You should know that lots of sheep people will be laughing right now… getting shoved away by sheep that aren’t your mom is just part and parcel of being a lamb.  Granted, I was being a bit, uh, cautious, partly because of the cold, party because Snickers seems out-of-the-box aggressive to other lambs, and partly because, okay, I’m a wuss.) After a few minutes of confused lambs and indignant ewes, everyone seemed to get it all sorted out. Whew. Now the lambs are able to play together and have more space to run around. Ideally, they’d be frolicking on emerald green pastures up the hill, but the grass is  under about a foot of ice and snow.

Here’s the lambs from this weekend:

You can see how big White Dude is in this photo of him and the little ewe lamb:

Meanwhile, Willie and Lassie are warming my heart. They started playing in the living room Saturday night, and I was completely transfixed while watching them. First Willie threw himself in front of Lassie, with his head held high, his ears up at the base, with the rest of the pinna (ear flap) flattened against his head. His legs were erect and stiff, and he stood still as if frozen for a moment, then threw himself down in a play bow in front of Lassie. She responded with her “play bark,” (only heard while she’s playing, one WOOF, repeated about every 3 or 4 seconds) and picked up their favorite tug toy.  They proceded to play tug for several minutes, while I was transported away from huddling in the cold on the couch, blue snow, frozen ice buckets and bitter winds.  I imagined that they were individuals of a wild species that one rarely sees… imagine how enchanted you’d be if you’d never seen a dog and all of sudden there were 2 of them, playing this amazing game right in front of you. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude that they were in my life, and that by simply doing what dogs do, I could be elevated and warmed with amazement and appreciation. Those of us lucky enough to have dogs are lucky indeed.

It was 26 below this morning on the thermometer by the kitchen window, 36 below at a neighbor’s. I suspect the temperature in the barn, which is down the hill from the house, was somewhere in between. Good grief. I was born in Arizona, and the concept that it is MUCH warmer in the freezer compartment of my refrigerator than it is outside just doesn’t compute. It seems so very, very wrong.

Lassie couldn’t handle it at all. I took her out this morning, hoping she could urinate or defecate in seconds, but she stood outside for a few seconds and than ran inside and pooped on the dining room floor. She looked up at me while she did so as if she was concerned about what she was doing…. Am I being problematically anthropomorphic for thinking she felt unease about going in the house? (She has urinated in the house several times over the years, usually associated with her off and on again bladder infections, but never pooped.) Of course, I said “It’s okay Lassie, you’re a good girl.”

She truly can’t handle this weather… a few days ago, when it was a balmy 5 below, she ran outside for a few yards enthusiastically, and then stopped in an unnatural posture and stood still.  I called her to come and she continued to stare at me with a strange look on her face.  I ran over to her and she honestly seemed as if she was ‘frozen’ in place. I don’t think she could get her legs to work, so I nudged, half carried and coaxed her back into the house. Poor old girl. At least 3 people have died here because of the weather in the past week; two whose cars broke down and one poor woman who probably fell and couldn’t get up. I have to admit that this weather feels scary, in a primal, down-deep kind of way. Perhaps that is why this weather is tiring me out so much, even though I am only out for short periods of time. Everything seems harder now, and I find myself not wanting to work or think seriously about much of anything. Eating, cooking:  yeah, that’s what I should be doing.  Emphasis on the eating part…

Even Willie was affected this morning. Until then he’d seemed oblivious; no, that’s not right–I’d say more like overflowing with enthusiasm. This is the dog I can’t work in summer if it’s over 75 degrees, he is so heat intolerant.  But lately he’s never seemed happier.  15 below? Yeah, it’s finally cool enough!  Wheeeee, let’s play some more! But even Will started picking up his paws as soon as we went out this morning, so much so that I didn’t even take him to the barn with me. Andrea, the Marketing Coordinator here in the McConnell Publishing office, took her little dog Zooey out this morning and Zooey’s paws were so cold she shrieked and threw herself on her back with all 4 paws sticking up in the air. Andrea of course picked her up (luckily she’s small!) and ran her inside so warm her up. With apologies to  Zooey, it’s hard not to laugh thinking of her throwing herself on her back to get her paws off the snow. Surely even dogs know how to be drama queens.

The sheep are okay, amazing animals that they are. I am feeding them huge quantities of hay and supplementing the twin lambs with goat milk. The hardest part is getting water to the lactating ewes. The main flock has a big water tank with a heater in it, but the ewes w/ lambs are in small pens in the barn with rubber water buckets. This morning each bucket had over 4 inches of solid ice in it… takes no small amount of energy to smash it out and replace the water. I run back and forth from the office to the farm to get them fresh water at least 5 times a day… you just can’t let a lactating ewe run out of water, not unless you want  her milk production to decrease and that’s the last thing the lambs need. The single, White Dude, seemed his usual bouncy self this morning, but the twins seemed a little hunched and quiet. I think this weather is borderline for them. Thank heavens Jim built them such a cozy den out of straw bales; I suspect it may have saved their lives last night.

Speaking of feeding the birds, if you do live where it’s cold and you put out bird seed, you might be interested in the research of Stanley Temple and colleagues here at the University of Wisconsin. They found that during normal weather supplemental feeding has little effect on wild bird populations, neither helping nor hurting (unless you allow the feeders or seed to become rotten or dirty and convey disease). However, in weather like this, feeding birds high fat seeds like black oil sunflower seed, thistle or suet actually decreases mortality by 50%. That’s a huge number, so I am keeping the suet and seed feeders as full as I can.

It’s supposed to moderate tomorrow, thank heavens. I truly am ready. It’s only 4 right now, but the wind is up and it feels brutal.  Predictions are for temps in the 20’s tomorrow… I can only imagine how warm that will feel! Meanwhile… it’s gorgeous outside (especially if you are inside, looking out.)

(more…)

What a difference a day makes. Here’s what happened late last week between Will and Redford:

Yep, that’s Willie running away. He ran back about five feet, then turned and walked back toward Redford, with me encouraging him.  For reasons I don’t  understand, this time Redford turned and walked away.

And here’s what I really don’t understand. After that, every time, Will has won every interaction. Will walks forward with confidence, and Redford turns tail (now you know where that phrase came from!). I simply don’t know exactly what transpired between the two of them, but Will’s posture is now one of confidence as he approaches Redford. Only once, a few days later, did Redford turn to face Wilie and challenge him, and Will stood his ground, opened his mouth and snapped at the ram’s face. (Wish I had a photo of that!) That’s been all she wrote since then: Will stalks into the barn like Clint Eastwood, and Redford turns and walks away.

I’m not sure where Will’s confidence came from, although I do believe that being allowed to move freely when he felt threatened helped him gain some courage.  I didn’t correct him (Will) for running away at all, simply encouraged him to get back in, and I wonder if having the freedom to protect himself helped. (Although he’s always had that, I’ve never corrected him for running away when he was frightened.)

I am fascinated by the power of his increased confidence, and equate it with what we often call ‘presence’ in a human. People with ‘presence’ have so much power, but it is a quality that is hard to define and quantify, isn’t it?  And yet, hard as it is to quantify or identify, it seems to be something that is physical, a kind of physical manifestation of a self contained confidence in one’s self. I’ve seen other animals besides humans and dogs that I’d say have ‘presence,’ I’m thinking mostly of horses. And cats. Of course, cats! (Who could be better at it?)  Any one else? I’d love to know what you think.

Meanwhile, it’s brutally cold here. Beautiful, but cold. Two below this morning when I did the chores. I do love so much about winter, a cold, snowy day has an ethereal quality that is almost other wordly. There’s a purity and simplicity to it that is moves me in a way that is hard to describe. I’m reminded of the folks in Antarctica who talk about becoming addicted to the beauty of the place, when they’re taking about a place that is flat, white and black. Period. Sounds horrible… but, I think I understand something of what they feel; something about the primal nature of such purity that gets to you.

The lambs are doing incredibly well. Full, fat bellies all. I’ve been supplementing with goat’s milk, but the twins are becoming less and less interested. Snickers must be in full milk production, because they are thriving now, even in the cold.  I still can’t help but worry a bit; tomorrow it is expected to be 19 below, and that’s without the wind chill factor which is supposed to be dangerous because the winds are predicted to increase. Man, it’s cold enough now just at zero or so with a barely perceptible breeze.

Too cold for many photos (the camera battery froze before my fingers did, but it was a close call), but here’s one from this morning. Willie is getting the sheep up so that I can walk in with hay without getting run over. As he gets closer I’ll open the gate and spread their green, leafy hay out on the fresh snow. He’ll hold them off for me while I get it spread around, and then I’ll say “That’ll Do” (yes, Babe fans, we really do say that!) and we’ll both go back into the barn. He’ll sit at the gate to ewes with lambs while I freeze my fingers off smashing the ice out of their water buckets. I would never let him in with the ewes and lambs now; the ewes would be forced to attack to protect their lambs, and what’s the point?  So Will waits outside impatiently while I bottle feed and refresh the water buckets. Wish we could work the main flock more though… too much snow and oh yeah, too cold!

xx

xxxx:

Has it just been two days since Snicker’s lambs were born? Or two weeks? Here’s the good news: the lambs, at the moment anyway, are doing well. Here’s the bad news: since I last wrote, Snickers tried her best to kill the ewe lamb, both lambs got diarrhea, both lambs began bawling non-stop as lambs only do when they are not getting enough food, it sounded like the white lamb had pneumonia, my car threatened to break down so we had to drive it into Madison in a snowstorm at rush hour, and then go back in to get it at rush hour later that day.

I should start at the beginning. Having lambs at all in the depth of a Wisconsin winter can only be described as an agricultural whoopsie of major proportions. Our lambs are supposed to come in early April, when it’s warmer and the grass will be lush and green by the time the lambs are ready to leave the barn. It became apparent that this plan had a glitch when I noticed that Truffles and Snickers were, what can only be described as, rotund. Once their bags began to enlarge in December I knew we were in trouble. They were apparently bred by last year’s ram lambs, who couldn’t have been much over 3 months of age. I have never castrated the ram lambs.. it’s stressful on them (okay, me too) and intact ram lambs grow better than neutered ones. I’ve never had a problem with it, just moved the ram lambs away from the ewes in mid-August when the ewes started to cycle and the ram lambs became old enough to breed.

Well, that was then, and this is now. Truffles and Snickers are a new breed for me, 1/2 Katadhan and 1/2 Dorper, each of which is known to breed out of season. Little did I know that they are also shockingly precocious… the ram lambs that bred them (one of their sons no doubt, ouch) couldn’t have been much over 3 months of age. That’s equivalent of an 8 year old boy… well, never mind.

About two weeks ago it became clear that the lambs were coming soon. Truffles seemed to be coming due first, so I kept all the flock in the barn pen, assuming Truffles would have her lambs in a safe place, perhaps in the straw inside the barn where most of my ewes give birth. I came home from a movie (Milk, fantastic) to find a tiny white lamb standing outside in the sleet beside Truffles. I did not say “oh boy.” Truffles has always twinned, and I knew there should have been another lamb. Sure enough, I found a cold, wet body lying outside, a poor little dead lamb who would have been a lovely, beautiful lamb if he had lived. I have no idea what happened… did Truffles just not attend to it fast enough and it died of hypothermia? It seemed to be barely licked off, perhaps she got so busy with the first one that she ignored the second. Jim and I both felt sick about it. It wasn’t a good night. Raising animals teaches you a lot about the inevitability of death, but it still comes hard.

That was a week ago. Here’s the good news on the one that lived: He is huge now, fat and lively. I swear he’s doubled in size. It’s beginning to look like he is an albino. My my. Here he is at the milk bar.

On Thursday, Snicker’s bag filled up and I knew she’d be having her own lambs soon. Luckily I was working at home, and just happened to check the barn my way out to yoga. As I walked in, the little black ewe lamb slid out of Snicker’s onto the hay. Snickers seemed far more interested in the white ram lamb, who was already up and active, so I helped clean off the little ewe lamb while Snickers alternated between the two. When I left the barn they were both up and looking for milk. I came back about an hour and a half later, and found both lambs with warm mouths and milk in their bellies. That’s when I came to Black Earth and sent my last post (dial up at home… urrrrggggggh). When I returned, Snickers was busy smashing the ewe lamb around the pen, rejecting it as if it was an alien.

Since then she accepted the lamb, rejected her, accepted her again, rejected her again and finally, as of last night, decided that both lambs are indeed her lambs. Whew. Jim and I were working on building a ‘crush pen’ (no one is crushed, honest) that basically prevents the ewe from turning and butting away the lamb in hopes she’ll finally accept it. I spent a lot of time smearing the white lamb on the black one, in hopes that the smell would transfer enough so that she’d accept them both. (It’s all about smell if you’re a ewe.) We had also gone early Friday morning in the snow storm to a dear friend and country neighbor, who amazingly enough this time of year, had goat milk. The lamb had clearly, thank god, gotten enough clostrum, but was just as clearly in need of more food than she was getting. She took to the bottle easily, so we were able to start supplementing her yesterday. Good thing too, because last night, the white lamb was bawling his head off…. clearly wasn’t getting enough food. Soon he was joined by a bleating black lamb, and now we had two lambs starving, even though Snickers let them nurse. To cap it off they had a bad case of diarrhea and I didn’t like the way their lungs sounded. What else?

I treated them w/ Vit E and gave them medicine for scours (lamb trots) and we began bottle feeding both of them with goat milk. They need feeding every 3 hours. Suffice to say I didn’t get to bed very early last night.

This morning, glory hallelujah, Snickers was happily offering her bag to both lambs, they both had fat, full bellies and warm mouths. We’re still supplementing them, it seems the smartest thing to do. It’s supposed to get brutally cold, highs zero or lower, 15 below and windy at night. I want the lambs to put on as much weight as they can and develop a layer of fat (newborn lambs are little more than skn and bones… there must be muscle there because they stand up in minutes, but to say its minimal is a understatement.) If we can get enough food in them and get them stabilized they should be okay, but it’s hard not to be a bit concerned. Here are the twins now, trying to get milk out of the bottle by themselves:

One last photo, can’t tell you how good it is to see Snickers accepting this lamb! It is pathetic to watch a lamb only a few hours old being rammed away by its own mother. We are SO happy that Snickers had a change of heart……

Got to go… company for dinner, and time to finish the blueberry/raspberry pie…

More tomorrow, gotta run see how the lambs are doing. This photo was taken a few hours ago, when the black lamb in the back was about 10 seconds old… Both lambs were doing well when I left the farm about an hour ago, they were up in minutes and had nursed within 15 minutes of birth. Stay tuned!

This morning I tried to get a good photo of Redford confronting Will, but failed miserably. That’s great news… I couldn’t get the photo because every time Will walked within twenty feet of Redford, the ram turned and walked away. I did take a few photos, but my battery died so I can’t upload them for you. I’ll send some before the end of the week, of Will and sheep, and hopefully, of Snickers new lambs, if she ever, finally, gives birth. (We are calling her Explodo-Ewe at the moment.)

Truffle’s little white lamb is filling out like a champ. He’s got all the milk to himself and is growing like crazy. He has started what I call “popcorn” play, which is pretty much like it sounds. First there is a lamb standing still, then there’s a lamb leaping straight up into the air. Except in this case, the lambs twist their bodies a bit, land, run a few feet and do it again. It’s lucky the weather is warm (in the 20’s!) because it’s hard for me to leave the barn, he’s so much fun to watch.

I wanted to write more about Will, the ram and “power” in a herding dog, because it was herding dogs that taught me about ‘body blocks’ and ’space management’ in dog training. (See Other End of the Leash or Family Dog Training.) There is no question that different dogs have a different effect on the same sheep: some dogs seem to take charge from a long way away while others have to get much closer to get the same effect. If a dog has what handlers call ‘power,’ the sheep will look at the dog, turn their heads looking for the best route away from the dog and leave, even if the dog is a good distance away. Other dogs have to get much closer to get the same effect, or can even cause the same sheep to stand their ground or charge forward. When I first got into herding I thought the difference in the dog was in it’s posture… the more extreme the stalking posture, the more intense the effect? But it soon became clear that wasn’t it.

The biggest difference that is obvious to us is vector of the dog’s energy. Is the dog standing still but leaning forward, standing square over its 4 feet or leaning backwards, even an eighth of an inch or so? Biologists call movements and postures that always preceed an action “intention movements” and there’s no doubt in my mind that sheep can read where a dog is ready to go next: forward, to “take the space,” or backwards, to protect itself and get away. I show a video in many of my seminars that show 3 different dogs working the same group of cattle, and the difference in the reaction of the cattle is amazing. One, clearly fearful dog (tongue flicks, looks back to handler often, ears back, body leaning backward.. ready to run away) ends up with the cattle walking right up to him and sniffing his nose. The most confident dog walks forward with what can only be described as presence, and the cattle take one look at him and turn away. Dogs are brilliant at sensing these movements too, which is why we all need to be thoughtful about how we move around our dogs. You can use them to your advantage (teaching stay for example) or get into trouble by leaning forward toward a dog who is nervous around strangers.

Intention movements going forward or backward are just one factor in the interaction between sheep and dog. Some dogs are so strong that they worry sheep and can’t be used in small areas. Other dogs seem to take charge easily without scaring the sheep. Ideally, a dog is calm and confident, neither overly reactive but ready to win a confrontation if necessary. Some dogs seem to love confrontations, it makes other nervous. All of these things seem to be read by sheep, which makes a lot of sense if you think about it. Many prey animals in the wild behave comfortably around predators who are not hunting, but then immediately go on alert when the predators, lions for example, decide it’s time to stop lazing around and go hunting.

Willie clearly is nervous about direct confrontations. He tongue flicked a couple of times and ran back into the barn as soon as I said “that’ll do,” even though Redford never turned to challenge him.

Okay, he’s not the bravest dog in the world, but the fact that he tries as hard as he can and tries to work through his fears makes me love him even more. Besides, Redford apparently decided that he’s not worth challenging, at least not this morning, so I am pleased and proud that things are going in Will’s direction…

Now, if Snickers would just, PLEASE, have her lambs tonight!

Sorry no photos, battery is charging as I write!