Two Golden Retrievers, a spaniel and a pit bull

So, having gotten myself to sleep by about 11:15, I woke up at a quarter to seven this morning to discover that my alarm clock had reset a couple of hours ago. I reset everything, including the alarm, and dozed off until Lark scratched at the front door and we went and got the paper. It was seven when we got back in, and I gave up. I got dressed and made coffee, and as Grandma seems to be still asleep, Lark and I had some cuddle time. ......Grandma woke up about eight. Wow.

Lee and Karen came by this morning. Lee had Grandma practice using her cane, and Karen set up a telemonitoring system that takes Grandma's vitals and sends them to an office somewhere that decides whether or not to worry about them. Karen left about eleven-thirty, and then we had lunch off leftover chicken pasta casserole from Joan night before last. I love that stuff.

We left on our walk about 1:10, with Grandma asleep and one goal in mind. I wanted to see if, from the Heller estate, one could reach the dirt road that we took down the mountain yesterday. So we started on the Heller walk, taking the trail that loops around a tiny pond until it branched, a hundred yards or so past the water. There is a large rock at the branching, with a tree opposite it on he far side of the path. I stopped here to distribute fluids (I had decided that if Lark and I were going to be going on walks this long I would have to carry water) and here another hiker passed us. He had been trying to avoid us ever since we first glimpsed one another out in the open, but unfortunately for him the path he had taken looped around a hill and rejoined the trail shortly after we passed. He gave up and passed us--going by on the far side of the tree--and giving me an opportunity to make sure that it was a man, because he had long, thick hair, of a very light brown or a dark blonde, and was not particularly muscular. If it makes him feel any better I will say that once I got a decent look I was pretty sure he was male. The close-up just confirmed it. I called Lark away from him, he looked so uncomfortable. Possibly he had been hoping for a completely solitary hike. He shouldn't have picked that trail. Anyway, we took the branch leading southeast, my goal being the well-off neighborhoods that lined the valley on the far side of the mountains behind Magpie Hill. I found them, eventually, and we wandered through, now both tired, and with Lark leashed once more. A golden cocker spaniel barked at us from behind the corner of his house. I think he was tied up back there, so that he could just get his head around the corner. We stopped at a park and I offered Lark water again. She took a few swallows and then knocked over the tupperware with her leash. Lovely. We continued uphill, me wondering if I had enough water to get us home if it was still a long way, and Lark wondering how much farther before she could flop on the nearest cool surface. Fortunately, as I was wondering whether to take a downhill road through an apartment complex or investigate a "No Outlet" area that looked rather like the cul-de-sac I had found my road from, a nice youngish lady came out of the apartment complex with an extremely large, somewhat overweight and middle-aged Golden Retriever and a sleek white pit bull with brown patches on his head. I asked if there was an outdoor spigot (not that she had seen) and we exchanged compliments on our dogs. I asked about the road I was looking for, and she told me the cul-de-sac I had been eyeing was the place. I followed her in that direction, Lark hiding behind me whenever the middle-aged gallant made advances. We encountered a lady with a well-grown Golden puppy carrying a stuffed frog (I think. You know how it is with plushies) who made cheerfully swaggering advances toward me. I petted him while Lark investigated something else, enjoying the privileges of those with only one leash to hold. If it comes to that, the pit bull was probably stronger, though, and her Golden was about as easy to restrain as a horse. Anyway, the woman with the two dogs pointed me in the right direction, I thanked her, and the rest of the trip was about the same as yesterday, except for the human variety. There was a well-muscled young man apparently loading an expensive-looking (I draw this conclusion from my glimpse of the interior, which was of the two-seater cockpit variety) silver sports car, with an unfamiliar form of rap thumping from its speakers. The best moment was as we trudged down Stanton, though. A series of cars had whipped by, and Lark was looking increasingly miserable. I offered my arm for her leg up, if interested, and she gave me the look that says, "Oh, I'd love to but I just don't have the energy to get up there!" Right. -_-;; So I crouched and picked her up. As I was straightening another car went by, and I had a very good view of the driver's face. His mouth was open. :o I carried her about twenty yards or so, and set her down at the end of Jackie Adcock's driveway to offer water. She conveyed that water would be all very well in the kitchen at home. Otherwise, no thank you. I poured it back into her Nalgene and we walked on. We got home at a quarter to three.

......And I fell asleep on Grandma's bed. Oops.

Dinner was provided by Carol, I think her name was: a largeish lady undergoing treatment for cancer and consequently eating out most of the time. Tonight's dinner was at the Black-eyed Pea; it was roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans. Speaking as someone who hasn't had to cook a meal the whole time I've been here, it was great. She provided vegetables, drinks, even dessert. She even brought plastic utensils. Speaking as someone who listened to Ruth Reichl from Cortland to Colorado Springs, it was pretty bad. The roast beef tasted odd, the green beans tasted like they'd been cooked with the beef, and the dessert was blueberry cobbler of unmitigated sweetness and uncomfortably crunchy seeds. The mashed potatoes were the best part, followed by the white rolls. To top it all off, Carol even made me glad we hadn't gone out with them as she had suggested by joking that I would probably have preferred a hamburger and fries by now. I am perfectly capable of enjoying a decent meal, thank you, and, so far, preferably home-cooked. Grrrr.

As Grandma was finishing up with dinner (she barely touched her meat) and after I had read a delightfully short chapter of The View From the Folding Chairs, Madeline-the-cat appeared, once more out of bounds. This is the signal for me to put my sandals on and call Lark, and we charge out to chase Maddy back where she belongs. Lark really enjoys it, and I always get to chat for a bit with the Seamans, as the cat only comes out when they do--in this case, as they had dinner. They were down to drinks when we came, and we had a nice talk about various things. I came back just in time to help Grandma get her pajamas on, and she's just gone to bed, having reiterated her position on the beneficial qualities of going to bed before eleven. Yes, ma'am. I'm workin' on it, ma'am. Kinda. She also asked if I showered on a particular day, which had the effect of reassuring me about waking her up at night while I'm in the bathroom. It was when I mentioned this that she mentioned earlier bedtimes. Mwerf.

Yummy updates and rereads. Shower now. Nighty night.

(Until Death Do Us Part; Kiss ni Hayaku; rereads: Kirai; Kare Kano.)

Should I do a post an update, or stick to a post a day?

Doberman Pinscher

Well, I went to bed rather later last night than.....scheduled, with the result that I jumped out of bed as soon as the alarm went off, pumped with adrenaline at the knowledge that I would sleep in if I didn't. I am now feeling miserably sleep-deprived....hopefully I can snatch some sleep before I walk Lark, because otherwise I will be death on toast.

Lark and I went over to chat with the Seamans for a bit, standing in the driveway in bare feet. They have sharp gravel, but it was nice talking. Ralph is, wonder of wonders, being careful with his shoulder--he says he doesn't want to have to do the surgery again. How surprisingly sensible.

Lark has been enjoying my discovery that I can just let her out and usually see her from the greenhouse. Supervised unsupervision for the win. :p

I'm reading a webcomic titled "Alien Dice". It's not particularly original, the accompanying writing is so stylistically awful that I mostly just read the comic, and the occasional flashes of greatness in the art are all that keeps me going. I'm also rereading The Corinthian, and, because it's finally completed, finishing Houkago Hokenshitsu-- After School Nightmare--Setona Mizushiro's most harrowing work, as far as I'm concerned. Diamond Head was pretty angsty too, a bit worse than my favorite so far, Shoujo Ningyo, Doll Girl. 

Well, Philip called just before lunch to check up on us, and then Grandma's hairdresser called to try to find out how to reach Grandma. I told her that Grandma's home now, and I believe she made an appointment to cut Grandma's hair here. Then while Grandma was still on the phone Linda, the occupational therapist, rang the doorbell. She was talking to Grandma when Carole showed up. :D It was kinda funny. Carole is a tallish (which is to say, taller than me, though maybe not that much) woman with brown hair cut to her shoulders, currently wearing a bright t-shirt and a long denim jumper with sunflowers embroidered on the front. Not quite as impressive as Lee's blue and green coordination, but rather nice.

We went for our walk while Grandma was in the shower, about one-thirty, perhaps, and got back close to three-thirty. We went by the Seamans' first, and spent some time chatting while Lark and Madeline played Pop goes the Weasel through the house. It was pretty funny--whenver Lark retreated, which wasn't often, Maddy advanced unobtrusively. Sid told me to come by on our way back as she had some clothes I might like, and then we went up to the top of the ridge, with Lark leading the way a great deal of the time. I asserted myself occasionally, as for instance when she went in entirely the wrong vertical direction, or took a path under very low branches. But it was pretty well up to her all the way to the top. Once up we followed the trail along the ridge, as usual not bothering with finding the Treasure. We followed the trail to its end in a wealthy neighborhood where I leashed Lark and tried to keep her off lawns and well-mulched flowerbeds. As we went through a young Doberman ran out on its lawn and barked at us. A human followed it to the door, and it did not come out in the street. They were the only visible life as we went along the loosely-defined block--we had come out into a cul-de-sac--and found a road that seemed to go in the right direction. It looked like a dead end, but closer inspection discovered the red dirt road I had seen from the ridge, leading down to the dormitory parking lot. It was posted--"University of Colorado Property. NO TRESPASSING. Violators Will Be Prosecuted."--but it went where I wanted to go and it looked like nothing else did. It went down the mountain in three stretches, zig-zag-zig, and after periodic consideration of the slopes we ended up just going off the road at the end of the first zig. It was fairly easy ground for all its near-verticality, and I maintained control until the last six feet, which were landscaped and steep. These were easily traversed with that run where you just try to move your feet fast enough to keep up with your body, and we made it to the parking lot. I'm considering stopping going through there. There are too many young people, and a lot of the guys look at me. Compliment or not, it's unnerving. This problem extends along Stanton as we walk home, with Lark exhausted and me worrying about getting a drink for her. I'm going to have to carry water if we keep this up, which I intend to. We made it to Sid's, where she supplied water, and then a fairly large heap of clothing. The best part was the fabrics. She finds the most amazing fabrics. So we chatted awhile, and then she escorted me home with an armful of clothes, a book set in WWII Japan, and a potted palm that had been in Grandma's sitting room and is now there once again. Anyway, she and Grandma chatted for awhile--apparently she has some hope of a new medication that may help her pain go away and possibly even let her hike again, which is relevant to my interests. She was here almost an hour, I think, and shortly after she left Harriet appeared with pork chops, roasted veggies, and watermelon chunks--all in disposable dishes. Wonderful woman.

Dinner was easy to prepare: thank you, Harriet. I went out twice, during the sitting-after-dinner and the sitting-after-dessert periods, to herd--to assist Lark in herding Sid's Maddy-cat back to her. Maddy seems to have an unfortunate interest in the bank along the road behind the house, and she went too far along it both times. Lark was delighted to remedy the situation.

Well, having gotten out of the shower just at eleven, I am now headed for bed. Please, keep me from going back to Cousin Kate......No fear, I'm too tired.

 

Coyote

Mom and Grandma just called me into the greenhouse to watch a fat, healthy coyote go through the backyard! He was very handsome, and not at all shy. Lark, who was tied out, didn't even notice him from where she was lying in the shade of the garden. Silly dog. He saw me coming into the greenhouse with my glasses and trotted away into the Seamans' back yard.

Karen, the nurse, came for Grandma's INR almost an hour late, and after she left Mom and I went to the library. I got some Heyers, a Pratchett, and the last Bujold omnibus, Miles in Love. I've read the books in it, but there's a short story included which is otherwise unavailable. We also found Dick Francis' autobiography, which I'm going to read aloud to Grandma.

Mum left about ten-thirty or so. I spent some time on the comp, finishing "Two Lumps", and when Grandma got up from her nap we had leftover corn chowder for lunch. Once Grandma went down for her nap, Lark and I went for our walk. We were out about half an hour, going up toward the Treasure, sheering off along the side of the ridge, and heading down to the dorm parking lot once we got past the barbed-wire boundary fence. From the parking lots we went along Stanton home. One advantage to dog-walking in Colorado is that little black dogs wear out faster than girls in white T-shirts. *evil grin* So, yes, I'm beat when we get back, but she's more beat. Bweheheheh. One.....is it a downside?.....point about going past the dorms is that there are a lot of younger people going along the road there. Intimidating but not necessarily bad, I guess. I got some points today, though--a young guy who snapped his eyes away when I looked up. Muahaha. It's interesting not being the self-conscious tongue-tied one, even if there's no actual interaction.

Once we got home Lark and I went and camped with Miles in Love at the bottom of the garage stairs. It's a very effective method of recovery, and I got sidetracked into the denouement of A Civil Campaign while looking for the beginning of the short story.

The physical therapy lady is here. She's a sturdy-looking lady named Lee, currently engaged in energetic discussion of Grandma's chances of recovery with Grandma. 

.....Whoa, that was awhile ago. Grandma and I just finished dinner, which was a sort of chicken noodle casserole kindly supplied by a bridge friend named Joan. The best of the meal was the after-dinner show, though. :3 It was getting dark, and about to rain, when deer started coming through! First it was just one with six-inch antlers off to the left of the greenhouse. He was followed by several more through there, until Grandma sent me to see if there were any visible from the studio. There was one right there by the balcony, on the patch of lawn between the steps and the driveway! He spooked like a lamb when I came through the door, but I froze and he decided I wasn't an imminent threat. He looked about a little more, flicking his ears like a sheep, before walking off along the path to the mailbox. The show ended with seven young bucks grazing on the lower lawn.

......Mum just called. That was at eight-twenty, and it's eight thirty-five now. In the meantime I helped Grandma get into her PJ's--which, while slightly less embarrassing than I anticipated, is still a bit--and clipped her toenails. Which is something of a relief, because it needed doing.

I finished "Winterfair Gifts", the short story about Miles' wedding. Is very good. I very much recommend it to you stay-at-homes who can't because the cheapskate library won't get it. *evil grin* Make that cruel. *cruel grin*

Schnauzer/spaniel

Mom got me up in good time to get ready for church, since I don't shower in the mornings. I did have some ironing to do, but in the end it was Philip who delayed us--not enough for me to be obnoxious about it, sadly. We arrived in good time, and I was glad to find that the first psalm had a very simple tune, easy for me to follow. Philip claims that they're all hard for him. The sermon was about the Epistle to the Colossians, focusing on the debate over its authorship. Apparently there's a theory prevailing that the actual author was merely an obscure disciple of Paul, rather than Paul himself. Pastor Reese presented the evidence for--slightly different style, mainly--and evidence against: of course the style's different, one's style changes throughout one's life and besides he had a lot of different scribes, and this was a cooperation with Timothy, and does one really want to trust the opinion of someone who doesn't even blink at the idea of forging a letter from Paul? By a follower of his teachings? No. Anyway, I stayed awake very well once I started taking notes, and all in all it wasn't bad. As soon as we were dismissed the little kids stampeded, though. :p

The Home Health Care lady came a bit after we got home, and she talked to Mom while I computerized. As I'm going to have to be fairly close to Grandma whenever she's not firmly established, say, in bed, I'd better take this opportunity while I can. And Mom told Philip over lunch that I have algebra, so unless I stow it in the car when Mom leaves this may be a problem. She told 'im three lessons a week. Gurk.

I'm reading a new webcomic. Two Lumps, found on Keenspot, is about two cats. If you wanna know more, besides the main point which is that it's hilarious, go to twolumps.net. So there.

Philip is talking about going on a trip with Luke this summer. Luke may take a little persuasion, and he's not sure where to yet, but I expect he'll do it. Besides, Luke wants to visit Front Sight again before they shut down or change owners or whatever. The business is in receivership, whatever that's supposed to convey, and Mad Dog is crowing because he hates the guy in charge. Okay. I admit, it's pretty funny the way Phil tells it. Anyway, wherever they go, Philip wants to know if Doug would be interested in going. Possibly it goes without saying that I'm interested.

Lark and I went out about three or so. We took the shorter loop 'round the pond on the Heller trail, encountering a nice older couple on the far side of the tiny pond. The lady had a cute little (that means medium, for most people) grey dog on a lead, and she asked right off if Lark was an Australian Shepherd. She was very admiring of Lark's coloring, and kindly warned me to be careful, hiking alone. Her husband smiled and didn't say much, but I liked his face. Lark was rather intimidated by the little dog, a Schnauzer/spaniel mix named Tucker: he was very interested in her, and it worried her rather. She did not, however, go so far as to climb all the way up when I let her put her forepaws on my arm. I did rather get the impression she was thinking about it, though--perhaps she was too tired to do it unnecessarily. We were both beat long before we reached the main trail, at which point we were overtaken by a tersely polite gentleman on a bicycle. He passed us and went off on the road, where he had a much easier time of it than on the trail we had been followed, which was very narrow, and followed a creek bottom toward the end. Not terrain I should wish to ride a bicycle on.

Philip left for Golden right before dinner, which was chicken and rice, courtesy of Norma, and followed by English toffee ice cream. Nom! After dinner Grandma had me read out loud: The View From the Folding Chairs, by Michala Miller. Apparently Micky Miller was a neighbor when Grandma lived in Walden, and used to play with Chuck, Grandma's younger brother. Grandma says she was rather older than they--it sounds to me something like Doug and me with the Amen boys, but perhaps that's a bit off. After I finished the chapter she told us about her memory of the CCC, the Civilian Conservation Corps, created to supply jobs during the last Depression. She was eleven, and had pneumonia, and the only doctor in town, who was not a GP but an osteopath, had to borrow antibiotics from the CCC camp.

Awright!! New Shi ga Futari no Wakatsu Made chap! Mamoru finally shows up! And hey, what do you know.....looks like Haruka has some friends.

Rest of the evening spent reading "Two Lumps" and The Black Moth, fiddling with my Pandora channels (a depressing occupation), and trying to figure out what nameless outdoor menace Lark is barking at. I shall now proceed to shower and bed. Probably. Soon.

Rottweiler

I'm having to write this Sunday, as the Mac was down all Saturday afternoon. >.> (Doug's translation)

Philip got in about twelve-thirty and crashed on the couch, which was vacant while Mom slept in Grandma's room. I didn't even realize he was here until I let Lark out about six and saw the Vic.

We brought Grandma home in the morning, after rather more time than I expected spent packing up and doing paperwork for the nurse. I didn't see Rocker again, but I wouldn't have been able to give him much attention so oh well.  I spent a lot of time riding the elevator, as Grandma was on the third floor and I made a lot of trips between her room and the car, carrying clothes, potted flowers, and books. We made it out about nine-thirty, having spent about an hour waiting, on Mom's part, for the nurse to bring the papers. We got home just as Norma, one of Grandma's neighbors, showed up with a pan of lemon bars, part of the conspiracy to fatten Grandma up. I'm afraid they're going to succeed better with me. She stayed and chatted awhile; Lark was very well-behaved, refraining from jumping and licking.

While Grandma napped Mom and I went shopping for groceries. We went to King Soopers because Philip said they had the best chance of carrying Starbucks ice cream. They didn't, but there was a coupon for it on our receipt, so we'll have to try again.

After lunch, kindly supplied by Jinn (leading member of the aforementioned conspiracy), we watched the Preakness Stakes on Grandma's TV. It was much better quality than the Derby we watched a few years ago, and there was lots of footage of the beautiful horses. I was hoping for Mine That Bird, the winner of the Derby; unfortunately, he made his bid too late, and came in second to Rachel Alexandra, the first filly to win the Preakness since Nellie Morse, eighty-five years ago. Good for her, but no Triple Crown again this year. :/

It was late afternoon by the time Lark got her walk. We went down on the Heller Center trail, taking a side-trail off the main road. It turned out to lead past a very small pond, the probable home of the heron Mom and I saw when we first drove in. We passed a group of boys on that trail; the youngest was primarily interested in Lark, remarking the first time we passed, "That's the same dog as ours!" The second time we were on the same trail passing each other, and he got a much better look as he brought up the rear of his group: "I don't think that's a Bernese." "No," I said softly, "She's an Aussie." I feel better about that exchange than those toward the front of the cavalcade. The first boy apologized when Lark bumped his nose on his leg, which was nice of him, and I really wish I had been able to say something along the lines of "It's okay." And I really wish I had thought to tell the boy who shrieked and drew back when we came past not to be a wimp. He annoyed me, and I only thought of anything but ignoring him when they had been gone a full minute. Oh well. Such are the trials of human interaction. 

The trials of canine interaction were, in this case, a lack thereof, and came as we were heading back along the main trail. I heard voices when I had almost reached the turn where the trail goes uphill, and I turned around to see a gloriously enormous Rottweiler come bounding out of that side-trail. His master called him back, and the second time I saw him he was coming out with two people. They went along the under-construction actual road, and were well along it when the dog spotted Lark and began to sheer in our direction. I hoped he would come talk to us, but his master called him back without seeing what he was going toward, and I didn't get to meet him. As the two people with him were college-age boys carrying their shirts, my disappointment is mixed with a little relief.

The evening ended with me rereading Heyer, in particular Powder and Patch. It's one of her earlier novels, a Georgian, and while it's not quite up to her later standard I had forgotten just how entertaining it is. It also left me with the strong desire to read The Masqueraders, ever my favorite of her heroine-in-disguise stories. When Philip and Mom finally finished War of the Worlds on Phil's laptop via the TV, I got the monitor cable back and managed to check the manga.  There were several good updates. :3

Golden Retriever

Well, having left home at six this morning, we made it to Grandma's house at three CST, an hour early for our appointment at the Center, which was for three Mountain time. So we had forty-five minutes to, uh, recruit our strength, and then we went to see Grandma and learn procedures. 

She is very, very thin. Really thin. It's scary. She looks like she could just break. With preventing this in view, the therapist demonstrated what we should do when Grandma uses the stairs, what exercises I should have her do every day until the home therapy people come and tell me something completely different, and what I should prevent her doing. (Crossing her legs and otherwise turning in her left leg. The ball of her leg bone threatens to pop out of the socket if she puts too much stress on it, like letting that knee cross her midline.) I made mental notes and fortunately have printed notes for the exercises, because I know I wouldn't be able to forget those.

I also got to meet the therapy dog Mom told me about, because Brynn, the therapist abovementioned, is his handler. Rocker is a very mellow pale Golden Retriever, and it is fortunate he adores being petted, because that's his job: quietly and mellowly letting people pet him. He stayed with us all through his handler's talks, so I had the opportunity to pet him very thoroughly. He seemed to appreciate my Lark-honed Canine Massage™ technique--he ended up keeling over, half on my lap, and (still mellowly) asking for a tummy rub. And he doesn't precisely ask: nothing so aggressive. No, Rocker presents himself and hopes. When he saw Mom sitting in Grandma's room, he immediately went up to her and laid his head in her lap. He was approaching me hopefully every time I reencountered him: oh, it's that nice girl who does the thorough scratches. Will she pet me more?

Mom and I were discussing the probable cost of a dog specially bred and trained to behave like a comatose sheep. A Web search produced this paragraph, from the Susquehanna Service Dogs site:

The fee for purchasing one of our service or hearing dogs is $5,000. Clients may apply for a need-based scholarship. The actual cost is $20,000 to train and place each service dog or hearing dog. Because of many generous individuals and businesses providing in-kind services, we can provide these dogs at a cost of $11,000. The additional funding and the scholarships come from individuals, groups, contributions, corporations, and fundraising.

Right. Something like that. And Mum figures the cost would be more if it's a center, as opposed to a needy individual. Meep.

A couple of Grandma's friends came to her room while Mom and I were there. The first was a lady from her church, the wife of the organist who played at Mom's wedding. Shortly after her arrival came Jinn, a very old friend of Grandma's who is a joy to observe. Jinn has a round, brown, wrinkled face, and is short and very thin. She makes me think of a wren, and she's about as lively as a little bird. She and the ladies from church are all set to completely relieve me of any cooking duties short of managing leftovers, for which I am very thankful. Jinn also told me that if I ever wanted to go somewhere, while Grandma was napping, say, I should just call her. It's very nice of her, and while I'll try not to abuse her kindness it's nice to know I have the option.

Lark, o most wonderful of dogs, slept most of the way, drooled only slightly, and was in general very well-behaved. She was very glad to arrive, however, and settled in quickly. I'm afraid she hasn't had a walk today, though, so hopefully I'll be able to take her out tomorrow. First, though, we're going to get Grandma Jane from the Center and bring her home; around noon Jinn is coming over; and Philip is coming over, as some point undisclosed. Which is to say some time tomorrow.

And now I am very tired, having gotten up at five this morning, and so I will now begin to prepare for bed at the radical hour of 9:15 CST (eight here, if you wondered.)

Well, Snowflake, after days of looking as though she was about to pop any moment, finally gave birth yesterday to two beautiful healthy kids. Male and female, they're both white all over, with ears that can't seem to decide which parent to follow. We've very nearly chosen the names: Hail for the doe and Typhoon for the buck, taking the theme from Snowflake's name as Weather. Owen suggested Tsunami for the doe, but Sue and Ty....I don't think so.

No pictures so far, but I'll try to get some taken and posted.