Quiet Saturday, let Boza sleep…

Boza could not even get enough energy to even straw boss properly and he just gave up. Went to sleep and let us humans do our thing. After several hours of sleep outside, Boza went for a walk, with Svetochka. They went to the bottom of the hill and then Boza turned and came home. No long walks for him right now…

Smart dog…

20160528_182625

We are just glad to see him moving. Albeit, slow and short distances, but moving…

Sveta and I have to run to the Big Village. We will get more medicine for Boza and I have to get a water pump for the Volga. I am going to also get all new radiator hoses and replace everything at the same time. The blessing about a Volga is; $20 and I will have a new water pump and hoses, dirt cheap…

Have a nice day!

WtR

Boza almost died from Tick Parasite…

220px-Rhipicephalus_sanguineusThere are too many types of this parasite to know exactly which one it was. But it was fast acting and almost got our doggy. I am in tune to Boza and when he does not feel good, I watch him…

Therefore, I was monitoring Boza, when he crashed. It happened in a matter of less than 12 hours….Boza went from a happy go lucky doggy, to a collapsed, pissing raw blood, doggy, at deaths door…

It was Thursday evening and the Big Village would be closed down, but I had nowhere else to take him. I grabbed Boza, grabbed all the rubles (later in article explain,) I could find and I set him in the back of the Volga and we tore to town as fast as Sammy the Volga could run…

I got hold of Sveta, she was on the train coming to see us and she found Vova on the phone. Vova had been gone this particular day, but he knew one of the veterinarians in town and called him. We have a big clinic in the Big Village and I knew that was Boza’s only chance, or drive to a city over an hour away. That would be too late…

Boza was at a point of rapidly crashing. The parasites had exploded in his system, they eat the red blood cells and in the case of this parasite, they kill the host 98% of the time in Russia. Boza would be dead in a few hours and or past the point of return to save him. Thus to say, I was upset and thankful to the doctor that helped Boza. The man did all he could and now we have to allow Boza to heal. It may take a month even….Or it could take more…

Nasty parasite, it is one that does not effect humans, thank God, or we would all be dead. Generic version of the protozoic parasite is called Babesia canis…. and the strain Boza got was the worst. Lets hope Boza recovers…

* * * * * * * * * *

Boza is my buddy and I feel like I should have been able to catch this sooner, but, alas it is impossible to do that. He could have had this issue from last summer even and or picked it up a few weeks ago. Hard to say and it is what it is. So far Boza is doing better and he lived. Now Svetochka and I are going to keep giving him his injections and hope that he continues on the path to recovery…

Now I am going to mention something that actually shocked me. I mentioned earlier that I grabbed all the rubles I could find! I was prepared to pay what ever it took to get Boza help. I expected to do just that. The price was not an issue. I have had Veterinarians in the US make me pay ahead of time and I had heard familiar stories for Russians. Small town and little care, that is how I look at life, many times. My distant past was different in that aspect, but we are in the present right now…

Therefore, I expected to bribe if necessary a path to get Boza helped…

Surprise!

A wonderful doctor, a wonderful clinic, came after hours, good with Boza. I almost cried when he told me 1200 rubles and almost three hours of work, medications and much more. What you see above in the photo is what we were sent home with to inject Boza with. Huge injections, that make me cringe every time, I give them to him…

I will be honest, I realized, whether he could save Boza or not, I had found a Veterinarian who loves his job. He could have taken me to the cleaners and it would be easy for people who love their pets. For Boza is my buddy and I would do anything for him…

The doctor said, “1200 rubles!”

I said and pointed, “Medicine, needles, time…….?”

He could have taken ever last ruble I had and I would not have flinched. Instead he said 1200 rubles ($18.70 exchange rate, when this written,) after almost three hours of work. Then as I drove to get Sveta from the train station, with Boza in the back sleeping, I remembered the small American towns of my younger years…

I slipped back into an era that money was secondary, people were first, people cared about other people and I found myself, realizing that we need to go to town today and visit this doctor. Take him a box of chocolates and shake his hand again. Keep in touch with this man and…

I thought about the people I meet everyday in this small town area. I thought about a almost (not all the way) drunk Vova, calling the vet and calling to make sure Boza was Okay! I thought about a doctor that cared about Boza and helped him the best he could in such a small town. Village is a better word for what and where we are. I thought about as I waited at the train station for Sveta, how interesting, that train stations are in almost every village and we travel by train to see the world. Sometimes the world we see, is very small, but many times I travel by train to see a big world, even into Europe herself…

I guess what I am saying is; it is not money, it is not new, not modern, not fancy, not colorful, not perfect, but it is real and true. It is what life should be. Always and never but a life of care for all things…

* * * * * * * * * *

6 a.m. Svetochka woke up a few minutes. She mumbled about is Boza OK? I kissed her and she went back to sleep. I told her that Boza was sleeping and he had a much better night. Sveta really loves her Boza and I know she loves me also. It is nice to have her here…

We do not know if Boza will make it or not. He is doing better and I am watching his pee. It seems to now be pink instead of bright blood red. He has eaten, drinking water and gets grumpy at us to give him his shots. I guess that is the best we can ask for right now and he sleeps and recovers from a bad thing…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Babesia

Life can grab you and wake you up at times…

Boza went from a cat chasing, raven hunting, deer tracking dog to deaths edge in about 12 hours…

Lets hope Boza makes it! I am not ready to say goodby just yet to the little guy…

WtR

Svetochka comes to town today! Yippy…

Tonight I will pick my sweety pie up from the Big Village. Svetochka will be here for about five days and enjoy the village life. I am so happy and I know Boza will be very glad to see her. I have to get somethings done today. Like do the dishes, vacuum the floor, change the sheets on the bed and various other things. Maybe taking trash to the dump area is a good idea also… 🙂

yippy

WtR

Going in the wilds: I feel sorry for women…

grumpy-old-bear-wtrGoing to the bathroom is a sensitive subject to some people, but….when you have to go in the wilds. It can be a whole bunch more sensitive. Like mosquitoes and your private parts. Ouch…

I feel sorry for women, they do not have the advantage that men have to just urinate. Kinda a scary thought, to have to expose everything private, just to urinate. For I am here to tell you that a mosquito is waiting just for such a thing to happen. At ground level, the mosquitoes are thick. It is one thing to stop the face attacks, cover up the arms and legs, but while doing the call of nature, life can get interesting. I just was swarmed and all I had to do was simply pee…

vil-attendreStill got bit and not in a good spot. Grouchy is the word for today… 😉

But hey, all in a normal day! Right?

But to be a woman and deal with these blood sucking demons from hell. Has to be rough…

I have to spray the outhouse just to do what is needed and that just verily holds them back. I found some heavy duty OFF spray. It fogs the area and works fantastic. But as always, one mosquito seems to have a gas mask and she can get through anything. I think even a nuke attack. Now before you scream about me saying “she,” the female mosquito is the demon of the group. The males eat plant sap, live a short life and just want sex…. Typical male…

Besides spaying your private parts with bug spray, just may not be a wise thing to do. Then again, a rabid female mosquito desiring to gather blood and have baby mosquitoes, is not exactly a wise thing either, when it involves your private parts…

Too much rain, too many puddles in the fields and too many mosquitoes. Anyone have a shotgun?

WtR

Remember George?

George is a Shrike and they eat mice, frogs and even small snakes. You want Shrikes to have a home at your home and I am hoping that a now fully grown and handsome Shrike, will have more Shrikes. A Miss George, as I call her to be positive about the future, is thinking of dating George

They get closer together everyday, but I do not think George has asked her daddy if she can date or not. For they just stare at each other from a distance. I know it is love. I am being positive, but maybe George is not rich enough? Maybe a bear and a dog as friends, is too much for her? We are being good and staying away!

George has grown and his coloring changed. He lost his baby colors and is now a full grown Shrike. He is a Russian Brown Winged Shrike

What ever you do George; she is a cutie pie and you need to play your cards right. And ask her daddy if she can date!

Svetochka said, “That is just right!”

WtR

Coffee, Dreams and my Dad…

Two cups of coffee this morning…

CaptureThe cobwebs of sleep refused to dissipate with out reluctance and coffee has finally done the job. 3:30 a.m. I sat up on the side of the bed and realized that sleep was aloof, but confusion reigns. Just like the rain outside, confusion kept dribbling through my mind. Not much, but just the remains of dreams trying to bubble up and bring their presence back to the surface. It is interesting to wake up and wonder at times is this a dream still, or is it reality mixed with the last and or previous dreams. That is a good question and when you dream as vivid as I do, it takes a few minutes to congeal the facts of life…

I enjoy my dreams, even the ones dredging up the past. Even the terrible past. My dreams are full color and I control what happens many times. I have dreams that I have to make decisions and those decisions affect the outcome of said dreams. It is really neat at times. Sometimes I can just play in my dreams and waking up is sometimes the nightmare, for the dream is a interesting and complex world for the most part…

I have a connection with what many call the afterlife. I use to think everyone could see such things and at an early age, I realized that not everyone could. This is good and bad! For, most people do not connect with the past, present and or future, in any form. They just seem to function and mostly that is on a remedial level, at best…

* * * * * * * * * *

My dad was in my dream last night…

My dad died at 50 years old. Thus I am much much older than he was when he died. Years ago my dreams started to place me older than him and when I meet him in my dreams, he is confused at first and many times never sees who I am. I am 6’3″ tall and my dad was 5’10” tall. He weighed about 220 and I weigh about 245. Thus I am leaner looking and much taller. Everything about me is huge compared to him. I gathered my genes for my physical self from my grandfathers. The German and Englishman genes won out…

My dad was a good man under all the facade. He just never was able to overcome his mother dying when he was 7 years old and thus, he never became who and what he could be. My dad was in the Korean War and that scarred him for life. Silence was the only medicine for war in his eyes and I understand that to a huge extend, for the most part. Being of a family based on immigrants to America many years ago. I feel the same genetics flowing through my blood and therefore, I live in Russia… 😉

In my dreams, my dad is so young! He is still the age as when he died, but he is so young to me. It is as though he has become the child and I am the father. It is strange to affront and last night he became aware of the fact that where he was at that moment, was not the US!

He was with me at the bell tower in our village and he was looking around. He was confused, then he turned to me and I could see he had no idea who I was. He asked politely, “Would you please tell me who these people are?”

I looked around and saw what I always ignore and after a minute of observation, I said, “They are Russians and they are the dead of the village.”

This caused him to contemplate and as we stood there on the hill where the bell tower is, I watched the souls wandering aimlessly, as though they were looking for something, something that could never be found. Every once in awhile, one would stop and bend over, pick up something and after looking at it, toss it away or stash it somewhere out of sight from all, including me…

Then something happened that was interesting to me!

My dad said, “They speak a funny language!”

That caught my attention, for they speak English to me and it seemed strange that I understood them plainly. But my dad, was only hearing words of Russian and when he said that to me, I could hear the Russian also. At the same time, I could hear the English. That was interesting, well at least to me it was…

Then I felt my dad staring at me…

I felt eyes upon me. I turned to my dad and looked at him he said, “Do I know you?”

I thought about the past meetings and thought about how telling straight truth never really worked, so I tried something different…

I said, “My name is Kyle!” and I left it at that…

He stood and looked at the bell tower and mumbled something about how beautiful it was and I asked him to sit with me in my favorite spot. It was big enough for two and we sat and watched the birds, bees and souls milling about. He kept looking at me and then he said, “Well Kyle, I feel I have to go!”

Then he said, “I had a son once, his name was Kyle! You look like him, but he was much younger than you.”

That then was the key, to relate to them, with only what they had experienced. For relation of present and time since they died, has no use for them. I thought about that and with the realization that my dad had stayed with me much longer than in the past. I kept quiet about who and what I am, for the energy drain becomes higher with having to think of the present. It was a theory at that point in my mind. A theory that became fact in my dream…

I just said, “Was he a good kid?”

He thought a few minutes about that and I could see him fading slowly, for their energy is limited in these constructs. Then he said…

“He was very strong physically and mentally the equal and he was so much more than he ever understood. He was a free spirit and would never do what everyone else would do. I respected him for that, but that is what caused me terrible headaches and heartaches in our life.”

Then he said, “I tried to teach him and for some reason, he is no longer around! Did I do something wrong?”

I watched as my dad became almost transparent and then said, “No, I would imaging you did just fine! You are a good man and that rubs off on your kids!”

And as he faded from sight, I said, “Come back to talk when you gather strength again!”

My dad could not say anything at that point, but he gave me a wave, as he faded from sight…

WtR

Looks like I go to Big Village today…

indexVova came down last night and asked me to drive him to the Big Village. I did not have plans to do that, but I will if he needs me to? I am watching Vova and seeing an issue. He does not want to drive out of the fish farm anymore. At first I just thought, “Okay, its just a thing!” But now I realize that there must be something wrong with him. I think maybe his eyesight and or coordination of hand to eye is getting bad, like very bad. I have to watch and see what is developing. He has been talking and being sad over some recent deaths of his friends. (Vova is 64) They (his friends) were all his age and I think that is getting to him also…

Life can be a drag sometimes and getting old, or at least the realization of getting old can hit hard at times…

I just do not look in the mirror and ignore getting old for the most part… 😉

* * * * * * * * * *

Raining again today! Not hard, just that lazy gentle genial rain. The kind that stops outside work, but makes you too lazy to clean house. The kind of rain that flowers love and veggies adore. Gentle and soft rain…

* * * * * * * * * *

Looks like Svetochka will come on Thursday of this week. She even bought lasagna from Globus and is freezing it, for travel. They make the best lasagna and sell it from their food court. Gives me a treat and change from standard village foods…

Oh, I can make what I want, but I stay so busy, that I just eat from a can or eat cottage cheese types foods. I ran out of cottage cheese this morning, so I guess it is a good thing that Vova needs to go to the Big Village…

* * * * * * * * * *

I had a bunch of thoughts on my mind and many of them are about the spiraling screwed up mess, that the elections have become in America, for president. It is so obvious that there is no one running for president that should be running for president. If Sanders can not slaughter Hillary, flat footed in the primaries. Then he is not strong enough to be there in the first place. Hillary has got to be the most unbelievable candidate for the next Emperor’s New Clothes, that I have ever seen. Obama was easy to see in this aspect (at least for me,) but Hillary came into this whole mess, as Queen of the Emperor’s New Clothes…

Sanders just is not strong enough and I truly do not care about the primary system. If he is that strong, then run as independent. He is not and the fact that Hillary can win it is proof. I can not image America after she, if she, becomes president. Sad thought, glad I am here in Russia…

Now in Trumps case, his situation is all a set up stage play. The actors all did their part and now we have Trump as the Lone Ranger, who is going to save the world and even America, as he rides off into the sunset. Oh Yes!

I have set behind a many of closed door meeting. In these meetings are what really happens in the world. Not the transparency that is offered, but the closed door meetings. I know how much laughter is expressed at the little ones of life and it is all accepted and adjured as normal. In these meetings, you plan what happens to increase the bottom line of the corporation and the ones at the top. Nothing else matters…

Meetings have taken place and we are now watching, within the amphitheater called America, a theatrical production, that rivals anything on the best world stages. We are and have fallen perfectly in line. The stage is set, the actors are primed and the curtain is rising and we sit on the edge of the seat in apprehension of who will be the next president of the USA…

We are such good little peons…

WtR

The Tiny Russian Village!

The Tiny Russian Village where we have a home…

WtR

Monday; Tiny Russian Village…

I guess I am getting old sometimes. I wake on a Monday and find myself humming the “MAMAS AND THE PAPAS” song, Monday Monday… 1966 is the first time I heard this song and it rocketed the Mamas and the Papas to the top. Every Monday you could hear everyone going to work and school humming this to themselves…

“Monday, Monday”

Monday, Monday, so good to me;

Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be.
Oh, Monday morning, Monday morning couldn’t guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day;
Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way.
Oh, Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be.
Oh, Monday, Monday, how could you leave and not take me?

Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes – but whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying all of the time.

Monday, Monday, so good to me;
Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be.
But Monday morning, Monday morning couldn’t guarantee
That Monday evening you would still be here with me.

Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes – but whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying all of the time.

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day;
Monday, Monday, it just turns out that way.
Oh, Monday, Monday, won’t go away;
Monday, Monday, it’s here to stay.

Oh Monday, Monday
Oh Monday, Monday

I still do sing it many Mondays…

* * * * * * * * * *

Therefore, as I walked Boza at 4 a.m. I hummed this song over and over in my head. Of course when I burst out sing once or twice, Boza looked at me as he rolled his eyes and ran away, like I was spouting the words from a demon or something. Boza prefers quiet and me not to sing. If I sing in the home, Boza moans and sighs, as he tolerates the intrusion. Boza is funny that way…

* * * * * * * * * *

P5230007I am posting this image of our strawberries for Svetochka. We have blooms galore and Sveta will have fresh strawberries this year. Right from our garden…

Yummy Yummy for the Tummy…

* * * * * * * * * *

Pilotka Hat
Pilotka Hat

A Pilotka Hat was given to me yesterday. It was originally a hat for pilots, but was adopted by all parts of the Soviet Military. The hat is still used in the Russian army, but is mainly a dress uniform hat now. The pin insignia on the front is designation of the military branch that you were in…

Vova gave this hat to me yesterday. It was Saint Nicholas Day at the Tiny Russian Village. Very important day, for our village monastery is about this saint, The Saint Nicholas

Personally, I like it and will wear it as I walk with Boza. It has ear flaps and is waterproof. Just the necessary hat for the village and since Vova calls me Nichole, I get included in all these special days in the village…

Yes I like it… 😉

* * * * * * * * * *

It has been raining like crazy. I have now over 200 liters of water in buckets and barrels. This is important, for soon we will not have much rain? Maybe; and then I need the water for the garden and other stuff. Just a good thing to have and in my world, no one tries to tell me not to collect water. I went through that in America. I was threatened for collecting rain water, kinda stupid, kinda seems silly. But; I had cops force me to dump the water down a street drainage area, so that I would not be fined and go to jail. Yes it was in a city… LOL… But I could water the garden with city water? Huh!

* * * * * * * * * *

I love the ever changing valley. It is so cool when it fogs over at tree level. I understand now about why we have so many songs about valleys in America. A valley is a safe haven, has a river and very rich fertile soil…

* * * * * * * * * *

Svetochka may come this week?????

Yippy Yippy Zippy Yea! Boza and I want our sweet pea to come and say hi! We miss her and enjoy when she is around. I said to Boza, “Mommy coming!” Boza runs in circles and then goes outside to see where she is at. That was bad of me, to get him excited to see his mommy…

But I followed him and ran in circles also… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

* * * * * * * * * *

Speaking of sweat peas; I have to build the trellis today. The peas are putting out tendrils and will want something to grab hold of. So wonderful to have peas fresh off the vine…

* * * * * * * * * *

Gotta go! Have lots to do and I have to get it done between waves of mosquitoes. The sun is shining now and the day looks simply delightful. So when the mosquitoes settle for the daytime, I will build a trellis and try to weed the garden. I cut the stakes for the trellis yesterday and the mosquitoes ate Boza and I up…

( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) moustique

WtR

This is the End by The Doors….remember this well…

All the children are insane…

Some images from yesterday and this morning…

The Tiny Russian Village…

Have lots to do today. Got to weed the garden…

Just some images of the Tiny Russian Village…

WtR