Now:
A very sleepy Kane, Gizmo, Breezy, Hawk, Savannah, Nick, and Tiggercat
Then he started licking the mat, and his ears pointed straight back.
When his tail started to twitch, I took the mat away. 
Tigger did not move from this position for at least five minutes, and his pupils were freaking me out. Once he was out of his trance, he dozed off, oblivious to all the dogs playing and barking around him.
I can just see the public service announcement starring Tigger.
"This is your cat. This is your cat on catnip."
Savannah Now...
The Weim in this photo, listed with the name "Towanda," was one of the lucky few who had found a family to foster her. She was with a lovely couple and their dogs. During another strange, out of body moment, I found myself emailing the foster family to inquire about the situation of this old Weim. I learned that Towanda was sweet and gentle, but she was pretty gimpy. It seems that she had been injured on her left side, probably years ago, and she had a bad limp in her front left. Her back left was weak, and she did not put her full weight on her back left leg. I started talking with the foster dad, Preston, and his wife Anna about this dog. Preston and Anna loved Towanda, and they had pretty much resigned themselves that nobody would want to adopt an old, crippled Weimaraner. Oh, and she had a giant tumor hanging from her chest, just as a bonus. However, I'll never forget one email when Preston said that as much as they loved Towanda, he and Anna could see in her expression that she was always "searching for something" and they felt like perhaps this dog was destined for something else. Even in this photo that Preston sent me, I can see her expression, and see that she's looking, looking for something or someone. The stories I'm sure this dog could tell.
Uncle Gizzer at his akka-punker appointment last week. Thanks to Aunt Jacque for taking him to see Dr. Perkins. Some days, an old dog just needs his needles, especially when winter arrives. 
They are not found in the Midwest, but this one was flying in my front yard today. She's 32 years old, and was hatched in captivity for a research project about this type of raptor. When she was five years old, this bird was permitted over to a raptor rehabber/educator. My good friend Doris Mager, Florida's Eagle Lady, is travelling through on her way out west to give lectures about birds of prey. I started volunteering with Doris and S.O.A.R. (Save Our American Raptors) when I was just 15. In college, I worked for the organization, and I get to see Doris every once in a while when her path crosses the midwest. She lives in North Carolina when she's not on the road. Believe it or not, Doris is 83!!! She's still going strong, and makes me feel old and tired. She's got this curious creature in her van, plus a Great-horned Owl, a Burrowing Owl, and a beautiful male American Kestrel. I'm hoping to catch some photos of the Kestrel tomorrow.
This funny bird was around when I was a kid volunteering. She always hated the SOAR volunteers, and would "heckle" us when we were cleaning her flight. She's quite the little character. See the orange skin on her face? Well, you can tell when this bird gets upset, because the skin turns yellow. They also have a very interesting call. It's a chatter, and then the throw their head backwards, and touch the top of their head to their back. I'll try to get some video of it tomorrow.
So, what is she? Anyone?
WOW! I have my very own swarm of bees in the maple tree! That was my first thought. How fascinating to see this giant mass of bees up close and personal. My second thought was that this could not be right, not with winter approaching. Where was their hive, and why are they not IN it??? I needed to call someone.
My favorite lip gloss is from Anthony's Beehive. If you have never heard of Anthony's Beehive, it's well worth reading his story, here: http://www.anthonysbeehive.com/about.htm A true success story, and I'm very happy to buy locally and support Anthony's endeavors.
It was already after 6pm, but I decided to try and call the contact number, expecting to leave a message. Dad Tony answered right away, and I told him I had a strange question. I described what I had in my tree, and he said that it did sound like Honeybees, but this was the *wrong* time of year for them. He went on to tell me that if the bees were swarming like this, their hive must have been uninhabitable for some reason. Tony said that the wild bees are falling victim to a mite that infests their hives. The "kept" bees can be treated for these mites, but the wild populations of bees are declining in the area due to these mites.
So I asked Tony what I should do. He said that these bees obviously don't have a hive, and at this time of year, they would never be able to make it through the winter. I did not want to kill the bees, or write them off as victims of the upcoming winter, because we need them. But I also wanted them to move to someone else's yard and live their lives! It was very interesting to hear about how the beekeeping works. Tony said that beekeepers identify their hives that they think will not make it through the winter, and they'll bring in a new swarm and queen to take over the hive and improve the population of that hive. Tony tells me that beekeepers come out and remove the bees, and they will take them and bolster their own populations with the new bees. Unfortunately, with the distance (about an hour) between Tony and my bees, and his work schedule, he was not able to come to Independence to collect the bees.
Then I lost my mind COMPLETELY, and I asked Tony, "How would one go about getting the bees into some kind of container to bring them out to you? With the 'one' being me?" I think Tony was amused that I was going to play beekeeper, and he gave me some options to get the bees into a container. His first option, to hit the tree with a stick and knock the bees about 7 feet down into a container did NOT appeal to me. Not when Tony told me that I should try to wear a veil. Um, I'm not sure where I last saw my beekeeper's suit! His next idea was to take something like a piece of cardboard and scrape the bees into a container seemed much better to me.
I asked my next door neighbor David if he wanted to help me with a new "adventure." He was also fascinated with this ball of honeybees, and he agreed to help. Another neighbor had some kind of hood, and then another neighbor came over to see because his dad (or was it his uncle?) used to keep bees. So we had quite a crew ready to catch some bees!
Long story a little less long, we were successful at getting the bees into a rubbermaid container, and thankfully, no one was stung. I now have a box o'bees, and tomorrow I'll put that box into another box, into another box, and I'll drive my bees to meet Tony from Anthony's Beehive. So, the next time I buy a new lip balm, it might have been made by my very own bees!
Here is the motley crew, we almost couldn't get started with our bee capturing because we couldn't stop laughing at each other! Please notice that neighbor Ray is in short sleeves, and he mentioned that he's allergic to bee stings. I told him in the friendliest way possible that if he was stung and he passed out, I'd have to drag him back onto his own property before I could call 911!
P.S. Almost three hours later, and I still have the creepy crawlies, and every once in a while I feel like I have a bee crawling on me!
Syd just cracks me up. She loves baby Frankie, and she always wants to play with him. Poor little pup, he can't even stop for a potty break without Syd trying to get him to play again!
