Because I think Arabians are super awesome and here is a whole list (in progress) of Tumblr equestrians who can tell you the same… If you ride/show/own Arabians or half-Arabs reblog or like this post to be added to the list!
@3quus - Purebred Huckleberry Bey grandson (trails, hacking, general riding)
I have a question: what's the most difficult case you've ever worked?
This question has been sitting in my inbox for a while and I’ve put off answering it because the answer is one of my own dogs and I was feeling kind of… I don’t know… defeated about it? But you know what, f*ck it.
Here’s the story of Misty & Me
We got her when I was about 10 years old- something like that. We had an older Golden Retriever/Lab mix named Duke at the time, but he was so closely bonded to my mom and I was always jealous of that connection they shared. I started begging my parents for a dog of my own probably as soon as I could put together a coherent sentence.
They got me a kitten and let me join a 4-H club when I was seven and that stopped the begging… for about a month. They honestly thought that if they gave me full responsibility over a kitten, I’d realize it was too much work and stop asking for a dog. But nope, I relished in it. I doted over that damn cat so much they were almost concerned. I don’t really know what they were expecting, they couldn’t get me to go home from the 4-H barn- and that was taking care of cows! So a kitten? Pshhh, child’s play. Literally. Dog, please!
The town’s local dog pound is right behind my grandmother’s house and the kennels have an outdoor run that you can see from the street, so we would frequently, at my ever-pressing behest, drive by and look at the dogs. My mother rationalized this behavior by telling my dad we were just looking to see if any of our neighbor’s dogs were there. Uh-huh, sure mom. She was just trying to shut me the hell up.
On one such trip, there was this black dog sitting quite sadly in the front of her run. All the other dogs barked and jumped up at their kennel doors, but not this dog. She sat there, stoic and still, and I swear I could feel her eyes imploring me to take her home.
I begged my mom to let us get out and see if the warden was there so we could visit with her. As my mom tried to tell me we couldn’t, she walked through her dog door and disappeared. My heart sank.
My mom had started to drive away when my brother yelled, “Look, she’s back!”
She’d come back out into her run with her empty dog bowl in her mouth. I cried. My mom cried. My brother cried. We went home and my mom called the warden to see what her deal was. They’d found her wandering the streets by the river, no form of ID on her. She would be in holding for three days and if no one claimed her by then, she’d be available for adoption. The fee was $50.
Three days later, as soon as I woke up I started asking if we could call and see if she was still there. My dad said no, my mom said maybe. When my brother and I got home from school, my mom sat us down and told us she’d called the animal warden. No one had claimed her and my father had, to everyone’s surprise, given us the okay to go down and pick her up. But, on the strict condition that I agreed to be her sole caretaker. I’d have to feed her and walk her and pick up her poop and brush her and give her baths and go to every single vet appointment with them. I couldn’t agree quick enough.
That day we went over to see her. Just to see her. She was a little shy at first, but quickly warmed up to all of us and started smothering everyone with kisses. My mom pulled out her wallet, handed the guy $50, and we took her home. I cried, probably harder than I ever had in my life. My little heart was so full.
We brought her home, opened the door… and she dove head first into our trash can. It was as if she knew where it was.
From then on, it was a constant battle with her. Turns out, she had a long list of issues. She could easily clear the four foot chain link fence we had. We got a six foot stockade fence, which she make quick work of digging under to go on another escapade around the neighborhood. We finally had to put cement under all the fencing so she couldn’t escape.
She had terrible separation anxiety, which made her extremely destructive in the house. So we started crate training her. We went through three crates before we finally found one that she couldn’t escape from and we still had to pad lock the latch closed or else she would bloody her nose in an attempt to open it from the inside.
We had to put child locks on all the cabinets and the refrigerator because she figured out how to open everything. She would not only open the cabinets to go digging for treats, but she used them as a ladder to get on top of the fridge where we kept the dog cookies. She was a little too smart.
Once, she got into the closet (still, to this day, do not know how she did it) and ate an entire 20 pound bag of dog food. We came home to find her breathing heavily, stomach distended, and drooling. My dad threw her into the back of his truck and took off for the only emergency vet in the area. Twenty minutes into the trip, he looked into the back of the truck to discover she was vomiting everything up. He turned around and drove for a while until she had nothing left in her system. From then on, we had to give her dramamine for even the shortest car trips or else she’d throw up.
She would also eat literally anything and everything. Luckily she had an iron stomach and never got sick or had to have a foreign body removal surgery. Here’s a sampling of things she ingested:
- an entire 40 oz bag of hershey kisses, foil and all - a wicker basket full of taffy (basket partially included) - garbage… just so, so much garbage - ALL THE CAT SH*T - an entire box of pop tarts, found just the empty box on the floor - so many toy squeakers that we lost count - an entire 2 lb package of ground frozen ground beef, still frozen
She was a deft counter surfer, notorious pillow destroyer, and obsessive light-reflection-chaser. She would eat her food so quickly she’d vomit it right back up.
She also had some more serious issues, like severe resource guarding, dog aggression (though weirdly she got along fine with Duke from the second she walked in the door), and reactivity towards strange men. It took her months to be comfortable around my father. She flinched if you spoke too loudly, moved too quickly, or if anything in the house made a startling noise. We have no idea what her history was, but something terrible obviously happened to this poor dog.
But, as my father had stated from the beginning, she was my responsibility and it was my job to fix her. Thankfully, I was guided toward positive reinforcement based training methods by the British lady who owned the dairy farm my 4-H club ran out of and I set off down a rabbit hole of dog training books and tapes to try to help her.
It took literal years for the dog aggression, resource guarding, and separation anxiety to get better. I never, not for a day, stopped working with that dog until she was too old and too sore for it. We built DIY agility equipment and practiced in my backyard because we couldn’t find a trainer who would let us come to a class.
But she turned out to be the most wonderful companion I could’ve ever asked for.
I will forever be indebted to that damn dog for teaching me so many things and being my best friend for so many years. Throughout my tumultuous pre-teen and teenage years, she was there for me when nobody else was. I held her and cried into her fur more times than I could possibly remember. She literally licked my wounds and protected me. We hiked many, many miles together all over Connecticut and we swam in every lake, pond, river, and stream we could find. She still holds onto a very, very big piece of my heart and losing her was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced.
Misty, shortly after we brought her home.
Say hello to 10 year old Taylor. This picture always makes me tear up.
Hard to see her, but in the middle there. The lake was her favorite place in the world.
Misty & the distraction kitten, Daisy. They always got on famously.
Samson (around 12 weeks old) and Misty.
Samson and the ol’ girl again. I always had thought of her as a “big” dog, but Samson was bigger than her by the time he was five months old.
Samson at six months old and Misty. This was the last picture of her before we had to put her down.
This picture is now five years old, which means it’s been six years since I lost her.
She was the most difficult case, but the most rewarding. I will never, ever forget her.
•Aphrodite flitting from girl to girl, giving last-minute touchups for Little Miss pageant contestants.
•Demeter judging the fruits and vegetables for the 4-H club projects while Hephaestus looks proudly over the crafts and wood projects.
•Poseidon and Athena judging the horse shows
•Zeus and Hera strolling amongst the cattle, searching for the perfect steer to take back home to Olympus.
•Hestia working in the food booths, making sure everyone is well-fed and comfortable, sneaking an extra roll to her patrons, handing out cold bottles of water, and giving her workers a break when they need it.
•Artemis watching out for little children and young girls when the sun goes down and the neon lights come on.
•Dionysus distributing “just a little pick me up” to weary adults behind the bathrooms and sending kids on an extra spin through the tiltowhirl.
•Ares commentating the demolition derby and tractor pulls.
•Apollo and Hermes as carnies, swindling parents out of their money for rigged games, and rewarding the successful with gifts of stuffed animals and bagged goldfish.
•Persephone snapping pictures for the local paper, placing her favorites to the side to take the joys of summer home to Haides when the fall
The Theoi present in the most well-known displays of rural community and entertainment. Country Gods for country institutions.
I’m 17, senior in HS, homecoming candidate, and a 4.0 student. President of 4-H club, local county 4-H queen, FBLA Secretary. I’m captain of the volleyball, basketball,track team, and going to play volleyball in college. But what people don’t see is the person behind the multiple masks.
Katrina Willoughby is a photo/
television instructor. In this lesson she is demonstrating how to capture
footage of infrared images.
Katrina said she has always
loved photography. Her fifth grade teacher invited students to come take pictures and work in the
dark room after school. Her mother
fostered her love of photography by finding projects that were applicable to
her girls scout troop and her 4-H club. She remembers beginning with pin-hole
cameras and learning basic design elements. By high school she had decided she
wanted to have a career involving photography. She ran into the hurdle of a
lack of nearby schools with photography intensive majors. She was told to get a
business degree with a minor in art, but that didn’t feel right to her. She
decided to go to the Rochester Institute of Technology for a science degree in
photography. That decisions is what lead her, years later, to the Johnson Space
Images and videos are one of the major products
that return from space. Katrina said, “In my job I get to train astronauts to
bring back the pictures that the public and scientists will see. Pictures are a
vital way to document the activities and scientific studies in space.
Astronauts will have their pictures years after their missions.”
This IR (Infrared) camera has
a seemingly “bulky” operating system, but that is because you need to
operate it with gloved EVA hands.
It would seem that my hands
were much warmer than Katrina’s.
We looked at a cup of cool water to demonstrate how to get
as much data as possible.
The video is able to be recorded and played back, and the
ground team can analyze it in extreme detail.
The IR camera was designed to be used for EVAs (spacewalks)
to monitor exterior temperatures of operating hardware on the exterior of ISS. It has been used a few times in the interior,
as well, in cases where we were looking for temperature trends (for example,
which structural heaters were not working).
It can see through plastic bags but not glass.
It was possible to see the reflected heat from my face off
The quality of the data and the interpretation of what it
means is dependent on knowing some information about what is being visualized,
for instance iron, copper, or flesh.
It can invert the warmth (yes those are the warmest parts of
It even does rainbow if the data analyst want more definitive
Next time on the
NASA Village… Exercise: Be Your Own Boss.
Do you want more
stories? Find our NASA Villagers here!