Things Were Looking Up

Out in the back yard, tossing ball with two furry, impervious to the cold, canines I used the work building to block the bone chilling wind. There happens to be a ladder leaning against it…like for the past four months…I walk under it occasionally just because. Today as I stood under it tossing the ball I was forced to look up…and what I saw spawned a number of thoughts.  Those of you that are frustrated writers understand what happens here…thoughts turn into possible titles…stories…captions and a flurry of brain activity creates a meltdown which leaves you so exhausted from just thinking about it that you don’t even try to put it into words.

My pictures are words, thankfully, so, I have a second outlet option.  I immediately started taking photos to at least capture the moment and allow my thought process to have a backup.

This is what I looked up and saw:

 

 

 

I immediately thought of my sister-in-law, Nancy. How if she could; she’d climb up to the heavens to see Missy Rae. How wonderful it would be to “climb up to heaven” to visit our loved ones, hold them, sit and laugh with them for a spell, and know we can hold them again at anytime.  The stairway to heaven…in my back yard.

This then tossed me into thinking, “The sky’s the limit.” How those I know, including Missy, have pressed on and rose to heights others dare to go. Climbing beyond their boundaries…utilizing what life hands them.

Then my thoughts went back to first grade. The “Rainbow” song. I have sung all my life. It is a simple tune that sings, “When I grow up I will someday, paint a rainbow that will stay. I’ll stand upon a ladder high and paint a rainbow on the sky.” The ladder, the revisiting sadness, the thought of rainbows, this gem I’ve carried from first grade and on as it did with my dying mother, me running outside as she lay bed ridden, to take photos of a double rainbow to share with her.  I still have my first grade music folder, taught by Ms Evelyn at Bath County Elementary.

 



 

Of course when I look at it, I’m pleased how at six years old I colored the photo and placed an "M" above the girls head for Melanie, my sister. Not clear as to why I chose her to paint the rainbow, but she was lucky to be the one. Maybe, she “painted rainbows” for me as I was growing…creating hope for her little sister and so I naturally gave her the position on the coloring sheet.

I imagined I might not even had payed attention to this scene had the sky not been so blue and the clouds so fluffy. Blue sky’s create a joy in my soul that cannot be explained. If I had to choose between blue skies and coffee, I’d choose the blue…and that is saying something for this coffee loving diva. Then it would be “Nothing but blue skies…”

And then…since I was all wrapped up in the blue of the sky by now I started trying to capture that, too.

 

But I couldn’t quite capture the essence of the moment something golden was missing. Didn’t take me long to figure out the missing pieces…as you can see here…Daisy and Autumn accentuate the beautiful sky.

 

Blissfully Accentuates



The Heart in the Matter

Megan had posted a clip on her FaceBook:

"Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise, and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old." Brian Doyle "Joyas Voladoras"

I had never read before. But just that clip was profound to me...I was thinking...Yep, you need a shell of protection to live to be two hundred years old...God knew what he was doing for sure....

Then David commented:

"You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words "I have something to tell you," a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children."

And I began to think...I need to read this in it's entirety. Now that I have, I want you to read it also.

Joyas Voladoras

Brian Doyle

FROM THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR

CONSIDER THE HUMMINGBIRD for a long moment. A hummingbird's heart beats ten times a second. A hummingbird's heart is the size of a pencil eraser. A hummingbird's heart is a lot of the hummingbird. Joyas Voladoras, flying jewels, the first white explorers in the Americas called them, and the white men had never seen such creatures, for hummingbirds came into the world only in the Americas, nowhere else in the universe, more than three hundred species of them whirring and zooming and nectaring in hummer time zones nine times removed from ours, their hearts hammering faster than we could clearly hear if we pressed our elephantine ears to their infinitesimal chests.

Each one visits a thousand flowers a day. They can dive at sixty miles an hour. They can fly backward. They can fly more than five hundred miles without pausing to rest. But when they rest they come close to death: on frigid nights, or when they are starving, they retreat into torpor, their metabolic rate slowing to a fifteenth of their normal sleep rate, their hearts sludging nearly to a halt, barely beating, and if they are not soon warmed, if they do not soon find that which is sweet, their hearts grow cold, and they cease to be. Consider for a moment those hummingbirds who did not open their eyes again today, this very day, in the Americas: bearded helmetcrests and booted racket-tails, violet-tailed sylphs and violet-capped woodnymphs, crimson topazes and purple-crowned fairies, red-tailed comets and amethyst woodstars, rainbow-bearded thornbills and glittering-bellied emeralds, velvet-purple coronets and golden-bellied star-frontlets, fiery-tailed awlbills and Andean hillstars, spatuletails and pufflegs, each the most amazing thing you have never seen, each thunderous wild heart the size of an infant's fingernail, each mad heart silent, a brilliant music stilled.

Hummingbirds, like all flying birds but more so, have incredible enormous immense ferocious metabolisms. To drive those metabolisms they have racecar hearts that eat oxygen at an eye-popping rate. Their hearts are built of thinner, leaner fibers than ours. their arteries are stiffer and more taut. They have more mitochondria in their heart muscles—anything to gulp more oxygen. Their hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer more heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures than any other living creature. It's expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine. Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old.

The biggest heart in the world is inside the blue whale. It weighs more than seven tons. It's as big as a room. It IS a room, with four chambers. A child could walk around it, head high, bending only to step through the valves. The valves are as big as the swinging doors in a saloon. This house of a heart drives a creature a hundred feet long. When this creature is born it is twenty feet long and weighs four tons. It is waaaaay bigger than your car. It drinks a hundred gallons of milk from its mama every day and gains two hundred pounds a day, and when it is seven or eight years old it endures an unimaginable puberty and then it essentially disappears from human ken, for next to nothing is known of the the mating habits, travel patterns, diet, social life, language, social structure, diseases, spirituality, wars, stories, despairs and arts of the blue whale. There are perhaps ten thousand blue whales in the world, living in every ocean on earth, and of the largest animal who ever lived we know nearly nothing. But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles.

Mammals and birds have hearts with four chambers. Reptiles and turtles have hearts with three chambers. Fish have hearts with two chambers. Insects and mollusks have hearts with one chamber. Worms have hearts with one chamber, although they may have as many as eleven single-chambered hearts. Unicellular bacteria have no hearts at all; but even they have fluid eternally in motion, washing from one side of the cell to the other, swirling and whirling. No living being is without interior liquid motion. We all churn inside.

So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one in the end—not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words "I have something to tell you," a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.
›› Brian Doyle


Beautiful...

I was moved to tears as I read, "But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles."

Traveling in pairs...moaning to each other as they move slowly across their watery world.
It yanks my heartstrings.

 

Fragile Hearts

 

I'm taking down my Christmas tree...and I must be so careful with these hand blown glass heart ornaments. Last year I broke several. You can actually hold them too tight, they are so fragile. Some have defects, all have different shapes, but still recognizable as a heart. I was texting with one of my children who is having difficulty and requesting prayers for that family. And I'm taking these fragile hearts off the tree...one at a time...like a family tree...of fragile hearts. I'm thinking I'm grateful I can trust my family of fragile hearts...that are a part of my family tree to the creator of the tree...the inspiration for Christmas...and I lay each one gently on the table. My eyes full with tears as I stand back and look...yes, one heart representing each one of my family...even the three new ones added with Craig this year and one for the baby girl coming in the spring. Not one more...not one less. Nothing on my part planned this...and I feel like dancing.

It Ain't All Gravy, Baby

 

It's a new year...and we’re off….

 

This morning at 6AM, one of my furry house guests woke up vomiting. Just grass…but a rude awakening and several spots to work on. She’s fine, no worries. We all went back to sleep for a bit longer.

Upon awakening, I remembered I had  several pounds of chicken breast that I unthawed yesterday and needed to cook, so before breakfast, I cut them into strips and commenced to frying chicken strips.

And with all the drippings, chicken gravy was a must…but all I had was almond milk, vanilla almond milk. And I wanted to blog about it…More on that later.

Just as I got the dishes ready for the dishwasher, the chicken resting….baha! And the kitchen area wiped off, Daisy came to the door, hanging her head.

Oh, please, no…Daisy. But no such luck…she had rolled in poo poo…and with a big blob of the “stuff” stuck on her neck, very close to her jingle bell collar, stood there hanging her head…”oops, I did it again,” seemed to ooze from her psyche.  

I let her in, of course, scolding her in my most loving voice. I’m not sure why I do that. I didn’t do that for my children as they blundered through childhood. My scolding voice for Daisy seems like a little ole grandma fussing. It’s weird.

 

She went straight to the bathroom. I remembered I had finally cleaned BOTH bathrooms last night.  I was so irritated I called her back out to the front yard and told her she was going to have to deal with the water hose and the cold water. We went outside I hooked up the hose only to find the water inside the hose was frozen and wouldn’t go through. I struggle with trying to unhook it from the spigot, with no success. I have to remember to go back. It was just too chilly in a t-shirt and pj bottoms to be out there wrestling with the hose. I turn toward Daisy and say, “We’re gonna have to do this in the bathroom,” and she gives me a sad, “please make up your mind, Moma; I have this “stuff” hanging off of me.”

So again, I let her in, she heads to the bathroom. (Oh, yeah, the resting chicken…I actually thought to go put it to roost on the frig cause, Lexie can reach just about anything when you aren’t looking).  I tell Daisy to get into the tub. She says, “Please, Moma, no” I commanded again and she complied. It’s such a sad sight to see her climb so slowly into the tub with such dread.

 

By the way, Bishop thought the whole time he wanted in on it, but I’m sure he was confused.

 

 

After all was cleaned up, a load of wet towels started, I sat down to blog…you know from the inspired moments with the almond milk. All the dogs were placed outside, Bishop on his cable… Lexie opted to stay in. Daisy just likes to sun after a bath. As I sat beginning to expand on my thoughts, Lexie decided she wanted out. I let her out Bishop in. Then I sit back down. I see Daisy jump up from sunning. I jump up to make sure she doesn’t run after whatever she barking at and WHALA! Bishop runs out the door like it was planned. Bishop was born to run. He knows no boundaries. He has no limits. Just a few short hours before his masters arrive…he manages to escape.

I put more clothes on, as my Pajama Day is not working out and grabbed a leash. This time I was able to catch him within ten minutes of his escape. He got on the other side of the fence and flipped out. With Lexie, Daisy and me on the other side of the fence, he came to me…surprisingly came to me…I reached through the fence, put the leash on his collar and walked him along the fence, me on one side, Bishop on the other, to the gate…and promptly placed him in his comfy cozy crate. He may stay there until his Moma arrives…but then again the howling is not as easy to tolerate as my strong side thinks.

It’s 1 o’clock …and this and more has transpired. I’m not sure how it happens. I was supposed to have Grace today, too. I hate that she’s sick. But she was better off not being at Mimi’s today. When Ariel told me last night that Grace wouldn’t be coming today cause she wanted to look out for me being that Grace was sick….look out for me…she just had no idea at the time…how Gracie not being here today had really been a good decision.

And now…the real meat of this blog posting (thanks for allowing me to whine about my morning)….

I didn’t want to waste the fried chicken drippings remember? With no milk, I used Almond Milk. Oh, right “vanilla” Almond Milk. It was the smoothest, prettiest chicken gravy. It was screaming for biscuits. I knew the “vanilla” might have been a problem, but I proceeded. I proceeded with the same mindset that I usually do thinking, “This is probably not gonna turn out like I want it to.” I do it in so many life situations. Convincing myself that, “I’ll make it work.”  I continue on a course, even when my gut tells me, the odds are against me. You know, they say, “Your strength is your weakness.” I can attest to this. Tenacious to a fault.

There are some things a person cannot change…no matter how strong they believe they can. This was something I wanted to jot down so I can review later…as well as share. I know I’m not the only one. What looks like gravy, smells like gravy, even shows consistency like gravy might not taste like gravy. In this life lesson, it ain’t “all gravy baby.” And it would be good for me to sink my teeth into this…for this year and the rest of my crazy days.

Daisy Worships

It’s Christmas Eve…and I work tonight and tomorrow. My mind is starting to get anxious. Family will be together on Wednesday. I have last minute things to do. I was fixing my coffee to get my routine going and as I turned to go back to my bed and enjoy it, Daisy meets me at the end of the hallway. With a ball in her mouth. Wagging her tail. I laughed and said, “You silly, it’s too early!” She only walked closer and dropped the ball at my feet. There is a certain plop a tennis ball has on hardwood when Daisy drops it. It’s an authoritative plop. So, I sat my coffee down on the table and begin the hallway ball playing routine we have when it rains. Because that’s what pets do, they please their masters.

When we wrapped it up, I got my coffee and picked up a bone and headed to the bedroom. Having thrown the dog a bone, Daisy lay on the floor exercising her jaw skills  and I in my bed with my coffee, and my laptop of course. All you could hear was Daisy gnawing away.

As I was perusing FaceBook I started singing, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” Daisy stopped chewing and looked at me with her head tilted. “Glory to the new born King…” She sat up and looked like the most reverent canine you’ve ever seen. “Peace on earth and mercy mild…” She then gets on all fours and jumps on the bed and sits and just looks at me as I continue to sing. “God and sinner reconciled. Joyful all ye nation rise, join the triumph of the skies…” and then she moved closer to my side… “with angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem” and as I finished the verse, “Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new…born…King” she had positioned herself as close as she could get to my left side, sitting up with her head leaning close to mine looking into the room as if she were a part of a worshipful moment. 

The song ended and we just sit there.

Beside each other.

And I think God was pleased.

Dog Days

The past week has been so not what I want outta life…

 

 

 

 I went to the doctor Tuesday and she told me no infections…just Kentucky crud. The horrible coughing, earache, burning throat, body aches and chills have been reported to take two weeks to begin to go away.

 

 I have things to do here, folks…and besides, it’s depressing sitting at home…lying around. I’ve actually watched 4 movies for crying out loud and started a book!!!

 

  I know it could be worse and there are many who wish if only you just had a two week virus….

 

I'm not complaining really...I was just giving you the heads up on the photos I’m posting...

a little back ground.

 

To let you see...Daisy…she seems to have benefited from this mess.

 

 

Daisy Loves Pink Piggie

So I bought a little squeaky pink pig toy about a month ago. You know, jokingly, "I smell bacon," --pig/cop-- pink/female...Daisy apparently has adopted it. Of course, I bought it for her. But expected her to chew it up within a day...and for the longest time, she has been so loving with it. Carrying it outside with us to sit on the porch, always careful to bring it back in with her. Bringing it from room to room. She holds it so gently in her mouth that it rarely squeals squeaks. I told George about it when I first got it, that Daisy was being very protective with it and he even said, "Well, don't leave it out for Autie, it won't last." But even Autumn treats it with respect, and holds it gently in her mouth, too. Daisy is always concerned when Autie has it and as soon as she puts it down Daisy retrieves it.

I thought it was passing so I could kick myself for not documenting the golden history as it went along.

I’m waiting to find it floating in her water bowl…thinking she's watering it.


It’s the gentle mother licks that get me. She is so kind to it.

Last night...when I came in from work, Daisy didn't greet me. Which is unusual but "every dog has it's day," right?

I get in bed. Lights out. She sits up with concern and I'm thinking, "Geez girl. If you had to pee you shoulda got up before I was under the covers."


She jumps up and runs to the bathroom. In the dark. Comes back with pink piggie. Jumps on the bed with it, lying it down in front of her, gives it gentle licks. I shifted my feet and accidentally knocked it off the bed!!! If looks could kill. She jumps off the bed, again, retrieves it and brings it to the pillow to rest. 

      took this this morning...turned over and there she is...She got up this morning and checked on it.

                                                              How to cuddle with a pig

and I truly don't know if my Daisy has become neurotic and if I should discourage the behavior or if it's just passing motherly instincts.

She wouldn't get up this morning, so I went back to encourage her and bless, her furry tail, she had to bring pink piggie with her. 

So, after she eats...she gets pink piggie and lays her by the back door and then goes out and lays in the rain...I'm assuming, the rain is not good for baby pigs.

and keeps a close eye on her. Later, while I'm typing away here and believe me, it feels good to be doing so...Daisy brings pink piggie to me as if it's my watch and goes back to the mat to lay inside out of the rain. So, I'm thinking perfect opportunity for me to photograph and let you see Pink piggie's face.
As soon as I started handling the piggie, she was up and moving toward me to take it away. I'm again assuming but maybe Daisy is not a fan of putting youngsters photos online.

And that's the pink piggie news for the day...I'm going to try not to let my day be consumed by documenting the activities of the day. But thought you might like to know, underneath that beauty, Daisy has a neurotic side and it's not just devoted to "chuckit" balls...I'm thinking about buying her a whole litter.

Possible Law Suit

I use this....

and this...

 

These, too....



I even burn these....



I'm just not feeling it...*shrugs* Maybe, I need to wash my hair more?

A Three Dog Night...after night, after night, after night

The day we picked up Hampton and Reggie and started loading their things in the truck, I was determined I would stay on top of things during their week stay. After all I have raised six children; I am fully schooled in the matters of prior planning. I was going to make this easy for me and easy for them.

The crates and food/food bowls, the fact that I brought Daisy with me so she could be a part of bringing them home and not Moma just bringing them in, created a need for more space in my little truck. There would have to be two trips. It’s just a short five miles from their house to mine. Shouldn’t be a big deal, so we rolled with it. Reggie, shotgun, Hampton in the back seat with Daisy, no wait, Reggie in the back seat with Hampton and Daisy, no Reggie, shotgun, and Daisy and Hampton in the back seat. Wait, Hampton and Reggie in the back seat and Daisy, shotgun. That was the trip to my house with the first crate, anyway. On the trip back, Reggie called, shotgun, and I had to call rank, as Reggie thought the driver’s seat would be an even better choice. By the time we arrived back at the Hundred Acre Wood, my right arm was in extreme pain. Right away, I remembered a dog seat belt I had failed to use with Daisy. It was left in the coat closet on Shoreside. Yep, this week, we’re gonna put that baby to use.

My arms were feeling like jello from this entire workout and the thought came to me that I picked a great week to lose 10 pounds. Let’s address this here right now. I know you don’t think I need to lose weight and that’s mighty sweet of you to say to. But since I’m carrying the extra and since I’m feeling the sense of out of control, then I am the one who must make the decisions. Since July of last year, I’ve gained ten pounds. My greatest concern is what happens in another year’s time…at my age you can’t play with this…and I want a healthy heart with only the stress my feeble thinking puts on it, not some nasty food. So there.

My arms were feeling like jello from the lifting, tugging, pulling, pushing, and fighting the happiness of a 70 lb dog who wants to roam the cab of my small Tacoma truck, in addition to taking them to the back yard and introducing them to the cables. I’m bound and determined Hume Road will not have a change to claim the attention of these city fellows, who rumor has it, runs and jumps into UPS truck, looking to see what “brown can do” for them. It would have been a sight for you to see Hampton and Reggie, literally drag me into the back yard as if they were introducing me to the scene. They should have been sled dogs…well, if you didn’t mind them taking you for a ride, instead of you guiding them. Flip Flops and potential sled dogs are not the combination needed for a situation of such. I introduced them to the cables that were staked into the ground, strategically placed a distance to the porch so I could take them in and out with no problem. See, that was the misconception I had started with, lining things up so they wouldn’t present problems…getting my ducks in a row so it would go smoothly. How in the world can ANYTHING go smoothly when adding two large dogs to your one?

My ankles began to burn and bruise as each dog, so excited about the new adventure tried to helter skelter all over the back yard, on a fifty foot cable. I couldn’t move fast enough to keep it from wrapping around my feet, getting tangled in my flip flops, raking my skin off, tripping me up. I’m telling you, if you had been here…and stood there laughing or even smiling like you are now, I probably would have lost it. BUT, because, dogs don’t understand, my patience meter was on “superdealwithit” mode.

Dog smiles..Despite the rude awakening they got from the length of the cable while running full force. Despite wrapping themselves around the trees and each other. There were dog smiles, from Daisy, Hampton and Reggie.

Of course, the anxiety was still present and exhibited itself though…let’s say, in keeping with the subject matter, “the back door trots.” I began to imagine the runny presents, getting streaked across the cables…and each other and my hands. Well, you get the picture. So I promptly retrieved bags and removed as much of the brown soup as I could.

Daisy loved having the two male dogs that cables kept at bay. She was smiling and wagging (which in itself is the same, cause even if dogs don’t have a facial smile, they still smile with their tails). Hampton and Daisy had only met a few times. Heck, maybe, just once? But they have a special relationship…like love at first sight. Hampton stands a good two inches taller than Daisy, and it is the sweetest thing to see him gingerly lick the top of her head and she smile as if to say, “I love a man who knows what I like.”

I had anticipated a bit of moping…like a “Gee Mom, WHY!?!” Kinda mope and even accepted the possibility of having to get counseling for Daisy girl after this due to a depression, a feeling of detachment, or like she just didn’t measure up to what Moma wanted. But just like the feeling of, “this is going to go smoothly” I was wrong about this one, too. To see Daisy, in the first hour, chest pounding both Hampton and Reggie, it was apparent she had welcomed them with open paws.



Time for Expectations



Reggie quickly picked up on meditation

Then, we went in. Right away, the list of expectations were made, as I watched Reggie and Hampton blitz through my little cottage and counter surf, chase my cat, jump on every couch and bed, and basically throw their weight around. Hampton, would probably defriend me if he knew I told you this, but I feel safe he won’t find out. Secret Squirrel: he leaks…Yep, he has a leaking problem, and anyone who knows Hampton knows he’s a big dog and so it stands to reason, when he leaks…he leaks big. Daisy would stop by the leakage on the carpet, smell it and look at me. Immediately, the baby gates were broke out and my furry visitors were confined to the hardwood. I was a few moments shy of getting these up before Hampton was able to lovingly lick Pika on the head, nervously and vigorously until she hissed at him. I walked in on this in my bedroom, with Pika on the back of the chair and Hampton’s back paws in the seat, his front paws on the back of the seat, one on each side of Pika, licking the top of her head, like it was an ice cream cone. She may be the one who has to go to counseling. She’s so catty.

I left for work, anxious, but not to the point of bowel distress…relieved a bit as I had left 3 dog shadows safe and comfortable…I was anxious that the guys would bark and whine for hours, that I might get on a call and not be able to come let them out to pee, that when I did let them out to pee that they would drag me around the yard…or the worse possible scenario, bowel distress…yes, in the cages of both, walked through and smeared all over themselves and the confines of their crates.

Again, my fears were put to rest as I came in to let them out…all was well. By the completion of my first “Three Dog Night” I was dog tired.

2nd day

“Early rise, Ma’am!!! I gotta peeeeeee!” I woke at 6:30 am to hear both Hampton and Reggie calling from the living room. Daisy, standing at the side of my bed like a child waiting for Mom to get up on Christmas morning. I talked to them as I let them out…and then I stopped as I noticed the “leaker” was voice activated. As they got outside, I explained that, yes, I realized I had left the wake up time off of the list of expectations given the day before, but 6:30AM was not going to work. Getting in at 2AM and finally getting to bed after tending to their needs…6:30AM was not going to be acceptable. I think Daisy was off taking care of her needs when I announced this and I was certain I would regret her absence during the announcement.

At the Hundred Acre Wood Bed and Breakfast, sometimes we enjoy our meals out of doors and I figured the boys probably don’t picnic often so, first meal on vacation, I happily presented to them outside in the fresh air. Hampton looked at me like I had not gotten the memo. I heard him mumble something about eggs and bacon as he dumped his nutritious bits of canine morsels into the short grass. Down on my knees, as I picked the small bits from the grass, and as Reggie was jumping at the cable to get to Hampton’s share, I developed a vague idea regarding the comment his master made about Reggie’s weight gain. Ole Reg, I believe, was way too familiar with Hammy’s food.

After breakfast was consumed, the morning constitution commenced to take place all over the yard. Of course, the urgent need to get these dropping up so that I don’t have to “handle” them later…made me run in the house to get bags. I scanned for my coffee as I zipped in. Oh, yeah, that! I hadn’t had time yet to even start coffee. I zipped back out and begin the clean up. The bag I had started yesterday, I had sat off to the side of the house. As I put the gatherings into the “poo bag” I had a revelation. If anyone calls you, “hot shit’ OR a “shit bag” take great offense to it…them there, should be fighting words!

Housecleaning came through the bed and breakfast as the occupants were out of their rooms and decided to wash their beddings. All in the washer, housecleaning moved onto, Grace.

Yes, this was my day for Grace…and yes, if there was ever a day I needed Grace…it was after a three dog night. Precious as always, she would walk to the back door and view the dogs. “Hi, dogs!” she’d said. I brushed the three as Grace swung. Push, brush, untangle legs, push, brush. Eventually Grace was insistent with, “Up, Mimi” “Walk? Walk?” I held her off as the Landlord, who had showed up at work, and viewing all the canine activity, walked over to the fence to say hello. The dogs barking, wagging, dancing all went to greet him…even Hampton who was staked further from the fence than Reggie. Hampton? Yes, he comes running and greets the landlord…with his cable…with the stake…right up out of the ground. Who was I fooling, right?

Around the tree the cable went,” pull the tree up, Hammy, honey, let’s see ya do that.” He just smiles and wags and stays oblivious to the fact that he was loose. Grace comes out of the swing to walk, walk…and goes directly to Daisy.They stand beside each other and gaze into the field. Daisy has that effect on those around her. Even Reggie and Hampton have been meditating since they arrived. Hampton was a bit more difficult to catch on and Daisy worked with on a close personal basis. He was so distracted though, bless his doggone heart.

Grace then walked to Reggie who was surprisingly gentle with his greeting. Grace was thrilled. “Hi, dog!” She went to Hampton, remember he’s big, real big. She was not intimidated. Hampton flopped and rolled to his back placing his head in Grace’s lap…gentle Hammy. Grace giggled but kept her defense up. She’s pretty good at that you know…keeping her defense up around big dogs. Her face lines right up with the height of Daisy and Autumn’s tails. There’s been times when she senses the overwhelming knockdown and will sit down to prevent a knockout.

As we return into the house, with all the craziness that creates, “housekeeping” remembers the bedding that was washed while the crates were unoccupied. My washer had in no time developed hair loss. Handfuls of Hampton hair were everywhere and well, left for a better time, as it was lunch time for Gracelyn, who just wasn’t yet ready for the “hair of the dog.”

Meanwhile, the three are playing, Grace safely in the highchair. Hampton, I’m learning is such a gentle lover, as he takes the time to lick Daisy on top of the head, or on the side of her mouth. Reggie, is a grab the girl by the neck, kinda guy. Daisy responds to both. I’m more and more pleased each day as she shows attention and affection to the guys instead of jealously.

 



Gentle Giant



Here, fishy, fishy



And the missing puzzle pieces…oh, did I not mention those? Grace is learning her colors so I got her a wooden puzzle with fish and colors on it. She and I were sitting in the floor of the guest bedroom earlier that morning. I got up and checked on the laundry and found her at the gate in the hallway. The two puzzle pieces I left her with nowhere to be seen. OMG!!! “Grace, baby, where is the pink and white fishes?” and felt my heart drop as she pointed over the gate, where Reggie stood. The panic I’m certain stemmed from the rumor that Reggie ate a blanket and had to have emergency surgery. I wouldn’t’ put it past him to eat two puzzle pieces. I was stressing. I retraced every possible step she could make in that minute or less moment. Nothing. If he chewed them up, they would go through. I think. Oh, geez, is he gagging? The two hour agonizing that took place was brought to rest as I pulled the play pen into my room to contain all of my Grace and take a shower. Yes, in that very short minute, she had dropped the 1 fish 2 fish into the playpen and they had fallen in with the side of the blanket, hiding, testing my character. I was thrilled to find them…there’s some quote…I’m trying to remember…like…”teach a child where to put fish and you will never feel like making the dog vomit?” Something like that…maybe, I should Google it.

“Off!”…”Off!”, I say in my police voice to dearest Reggie, at least 50 times a day, using hand signals, too, of course.



Oh, Garsh, I love the country air!



3rd day

I guess where Daisy was taking care of her toilet needs the day before, her missing the announcement of a rise and shine times, couldn’t be held against her, as she stood at the bed whining at 7AM. “We have guests,” she reminded me, “I haven’t heard them this morning. We must go check.” Oh, yes, Daisy…

It appears, that Reggie is learning the “art of cabling” as this morning he avoids several possible entanglements. Even running over Hampton’s cable to keep it from tying him up. It might have something to do with the morning before when Hampton woke up stupid and blamed it on Reggie. Weaving in and out of Reggie’s space and then as Reggie couldn’t move, Hampton, yes, loving gentle Hampton, attacked Reggie pinning him on his back to the ground. I couldn’t set the water bowl down quick enough and by the time I did it was over. Maybe, he was just missing his Moma and had to act out a bit.

Reggie, for some reason, thinks he has some authority over blackbirds. His commands, of course, are ignored, but do not go unnoticed by Hampton and Daisy. So sympathetic barking kicks in. With one totally focused on birds, the others just throwing out “barks” cause the leader is.

Poor Pika, hasn’t been out of the house since Thursday. Terrorized. Simply put. If she steps out into the living room during the night, Hampton and Reggie bark and throw themselves around in the crates. As I lay in the bed jolted from the few minutes of sleep that I do get..I imagine from the sound of things that Hampton and Reggie have busted holes through the bottom of the crates with their feet and are packing them on their backs like turtles, chasing my poor cat around the living room…probably Tom and Jerry influenced, huh?

4th day

I’d like to say, that every morning I wake up feeling like a new person. But I can’t. Today, I’m truly hurting. Hurting for sleep. My expectations are out the window. Hampton will wake me at 6:30 AM if he pleases. And if I don’t respond he has this snooze button that doesn’t even allow 10 minutes in between alerts. From the moans and barks and whines, I made out, “Woman! Woman! Come on, come on, get up. I’m awake… I know you are, too. Awe, come one, I wanta get outta this crate….”

And so operating on 4.5 hours of sleep now starting my Friday, I feel like a train wreck. Cause I have a schedule today. Lunch with a friend I’ve not seen since 7th grade. I realize that is a long time ago. Like back when we had to stand in front of the car and crank it up to get it started. I also want to get these friendly fellows back to the dog park before I do go to lunch so they can work some ya-ya’s out.

Maybe, it’s the exhaustion…but after I fed Hampton, I hadn’t had my coffee and being sleep deprived, I just took him off the cable and thought like, you know, he would stay there beside me. Never, never trust a male all dressed in black…that smiles at you with a toothy grin, showing you his tongue. Cable removed, he bolted and Daisy with him…and for a short, brief, short moment, I thought of unleashing Reggie, too…Run…little doggies, run free…but that passed as I used my police voice, clapped my hands, whistled and basically made a spectacle of myself. (I’m not sure though it might be one of those analytical situations where we ask if you act like a spectacle and no one is around than are you really a spectacle.) Well, the blitzing went to every inch of my yard, me telling Daisy, “Keep him away from the road!!!!!” Around the front of the house where I could not see them, around each side, back around the back, helter skelter, (yes, Reggie watching with envy), until finally Daisy came to me as I “spectacle-ized” and Hammy bolted into the field, as if my voice was background music for his adventure. I am stressing like none other. He’s going, going, deeper, deeper until suddenly he stops, swats and drops…morning constitution complete, he turns around and comes back. I confused him as he approached and ran at a distance from me. Instead of calling him to come, which obviously, I am clueless as to what language he responds to regarding the word “come” ... I yelled “SIT! Hampton, SIT!” He mumbled something about "geez you can’t just tell a fellow to cut the motor when it’s running top speed" and did his best to comply immediately to the command. Course, my having Daisy standing beside me might have assisted in the reigning in of the male in black. Lured by a blond…confused by another. Women rule.

This day, George remembered the seat harness I requested four days ago…so the trip to the dog park was not a battle of wills between Reggie and I. The ride was pleasant, his window opened about 5 inches and he enjoyed the ride instead of worrying himself the whole drive. Hampton, Reggie, Daisy and Autumn absolutely love each other and the park. I wish I could take them everyday. They are all excellent with the other dogs. I so enjoy seeing them running with ever direction they want …with no danger to worry about or cables to wrap around each other OR my ankles. But…I was mean to George…and apologized over and over. Lack of sleep, I am certain played a big part. But the growling and snarling…just because I woke up stupid didn’t mean I should blame it on him.

Lunch with my friend was delightful, but, too short as I had to get home and go through the routine of freeing them from their crates, peeing them and getting ready for work. I almost forgot to stop by Pet Smart and pick up a special treat for the buds. I promised them I would when I had left. Situated on their cables outside in the yard, they all enjoyed their special treat. No one tried to take the others, everyone finished around the same time. Ode the Joy….

When I brought them back it…I sat on the couch (BTW, I might sit on the couch once a week). That in itself was too much for the accumulating amount of sleep deprivation. Okay, I rarely take naps cause I can’t shut my brain down. On this day, however, with just a few minutes before I had to get dressed, I had a shockingly overwhelming urge…and the remedy came as I set my iphone alarm for ten minutes. Awaking to the alert…the canines did too, we all spun into action.

Day 5

Awe, yes, my weekend has started…unfortunately at 6:30AM. I give up. That’s okay, I say…cause I can nap all day long…whenever I want to after felony prelim and after my 11:00 appointment…and then…I get a text from Becky…”I have a job tonight I can work, can Emily come visit today instead of tomorrow?” SO…….. Today, Emily gets to meet the guests. After court, after my appointment, I’ll go pick her up from day care. The napping will have to wait. 

In between court and my appointment I let the doggies out. After the appointment…around 12…I think I might drop…like really just fall out. You know how you are so tired your mind tells you that you are awake but your eyes have closed? Well, there I was leaving one place, to go pick up my Emily girl, and I got to thinking…not only is this not safe but I will probably not enjoy Em’s visit like this, so I called George…”Dilemma,” I say, “I need a nap.” “I think that’s a good idea,” he says. “No, you don’t understand, I need a nap and a place to nap.” “I can’t nap at my house, I have three dogs.” And so, he prepared his room, and I drove straight there, greeted George, the boys and Autumn and zonked…for an hour. Please don’t tell the dogs.

I advised Emily all the way home, of the guests, their names, how to identify each, and to function in a house with three large dogs. She was not afraid, but excited to meet her new friends. She played out in the backyard with both and learned the cable distance quickly. She also learned to take them by their collar if they got out of hand and give commands. Emily is like her Daddy was as a child. Nothing stopped him…they have unlimited energy, unlimited adventure seeking and unlimited attitude, yes, well, they do. She started getting close to the end of Hampton’s cable and sitting down. I was a bit concerned…cause it only takes a second for something to go wrong. But she rolled around with Hammy…and it was a very familiar scene. She turned to me and said as if reading my mind, “We can call him Winston, right, Mimi?” You know, maybe I’m too soft, but just typing her words makes me tear up. Winston, a hound lab mix, was 14 when he passed…a month after Moma did. Emily loved him so…everyone did. He was the most easy, loving dog ever. So many grandchildren, neighbor children, friends and acquaintances loved Winston. Just seeing and loving on Hampton had reminded Emily of her long lost friend. Bittersweet.



http://aclaypot4him.blogspot.com/2010/08/those-magic-moments.html

  

Reggie had dug his second hole today, this time with Emily listening as I scolded “No, no, Reggie, no digging, Reggie” about the uprooted mess…his nose caked with dirt…I’m holding his collar putting the dirt back in the hole as best I could, Emily leans in and says, “Dogs have brains, too, right?”

Remember how I mentioned Reggie’s rumored weight gain was probably associated with taking Hampton’s food? Well, he hasn’t had one bite of Hampton’s food since he’s been here. He has not taken one of Hampton’s treats. My police presence has a lot to do with it, I’m sure. It does present a problem though as Hampton grazes. I’m learned he eats it all if I stand right there with him as he does. But this morning I had to be in court. So, some of his food was left in the bowl and the bowl placed on the table…in the middle of the table…to discourage the infamous Reggie surfer. Well, at 6PM, Hampton, KNEW it was his and he walks to the table and all around it and in no uncertain words asked me, “Hey, food cop, could I get the rest of that now?” So, I took it down, opened his crate door, he steps in, I set the food down, close the door and he goes right to …with Reggie standing at the side of the crate looking defeated. Hammy finishes goes to the door I open and let him out and again, dinner and justice was served.

Just watching Hampton get taken advantage of and seeing Daisy, too…makes me think how unfair life can be that the sweet loving ones get taken advantage of. Why can’t Alpha’s appreciate peaceful goodness?

Day 6

This morning is no different than any other. You know exactly what time we got up without me even telling you. However, it was apparent as through the night Hampton shook his ears which shook his crate, what seemed like hourly, due to an ear infection…it was apparent, yes, that I had to get him some relief. Emily, who is a late sleeper, awoke at the same time. Hampton is not showing any other signs of distress except for the ear shaking. I believe he must have a high tolerance to pain.

Wow, it’s an even bigger production getting them out for morning pees with a four year old in tow, the grass wet, the air chilly. She tells me she wants clothes on and starts taking off her PJ’s…”Oh, no, baby, Hampton is top priority here…his “pee is to PJ change” as is “scissors are to paper.””

Everyone fed, watered peed and defecefied (Spell check says that’s not a word, HA! Got one on them!)…when suddenly the fox is observed by ALL trying to be sneaking crossing the field. Hampton and Reg on cables, which left my Daisy. With Emily and I beside each other at the edge of the field, Daisy shot off, and we commenced to yell our fool heads off. For this is not the small fox that went through the cat door on the work barn an few days ago and ate the kittens; this is the big fox that from a distance looks almost as big as the coyote that frequents the field. I’m not sure what a fox thinks about Daisy’s and I don’t want to know…I just want her to turn back. She doesn’t. and disappears into the tree line behind the fox. And we wait. I want to grab a weapon and just go save Daisy. She may either get attacked by a fox or somehow make it through the fence in her mad rush and find a way through to Hume road and the inevitable will transpire. I can’t leave though. Common sense tells me, I can’t leave a child behind and run after a dog and a fox. So, we wait. No sounds of squealing tires, no blaring horns, no vicious slinging back in forth movements in the tree line…and then there she appears. Smiling like she saved us or something. Unharmed and running back. Emily is relieved. I’m relieved. Daisy is totally oblivious as to what she just attempted. It all sent us into a big conversation about coyotes and foxes; how if Emily ever sees one in the field she is to run in and tell me. We look at images on the ipad to confirm her knowledge. It was all discussed and I began breakfast, as all the Shepherd’s know, buttery oatmeal pancakes can cure any anxious mind.

Our guests are somewhat bothered by the “road roar” that occurs on a constant basis. Daisy and I got used to it after the first night we slept here. For our guests, I’m not having such luck. It’s all good if the windows are closed, the jumping up in a fit of barking is at a minimum. But the weather … is so nice…and the dog gas is so strong.

By now, those who know me well, know I’m an over achiever and for the most part go easy on me in reference to such. Hampton is real laid back…well, when he’s not excited. One of the times we went out into the back yard this afternoon, I had him on the cable and he began to pee, so I decided while he peed I’d fill the water bowl at the outside spicket. Well, the cable was only so long but I thought it was longer and when it wouldn’t move, without turning away from the water, I yanked it…and it still didn’t move. I turned to see what it was hung on…and Hampton, still peeing, with this look of, “are you serious! I’m trying to pee here,” quickly made me realize I was trying to do too much at once.

Because of my exhaustion, I have limited my weekend to adding only Emily’s overnight and my overtime. No parks with friends, no dinner dates…no additional cleaning, or spontaneous volunteering. I feel like I’ve grounded myself. So far, it’s not cured the sleep issue. Wonder if I went to bed at 8:30 if they would let me sleep till 7:30 still. It’s worth a try.

Day 7

I woke up at 6:50, yes, me…without any dog-aid. Daisy came to the side of the bed, Reg and Hammy started whining. You know, if you have dogs, and you want to lay in the bed for a bed just acclimating to the morning…KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED!!!! According to George, dogs can smell your eye juice…and as soon as they do, your quiet moment is gone. But since I went to sleep around 8:45 last night I figure after ten hours of blessed sleep it’s perfectly alright for me to get up at 6:50. (Notice how the dogs have “trained” me to accept 0630, amazing) George and I discussed it last night through text…they sleep during the dark hours…so to bed as soon as it gets dark. Today I run Highway Safety from 10PM to 2AM…then Grace will arrive at 7:30 AM…two steps forward, three steps back.

There is something about my camera that rocks Reggie. I try to take a photo and he’s like trying to lick it over and over. Probably cause it’s up close to my mouth and he thinks I’m getting something he’s not. You think I jest. It’s the dumbest thing to hear myself say, “Stop licking my camera!” Repeatedly…he just doesn’t get it. I can’t lay it down in disgust either, cause I’ll turn around and he’ll be licking my camera…”Geez, Reggie, stop licking my camera!”

Whenever I stand up, or walk into the room, Hampton and Reggie stand up…I find myself saying “Awe, now, you don’t need to get up for me, boys.” I know it’s a game I play with myself…cause when I sit down they try to sit in my seat before I do. Manners, spanners, I say.

Another day at the dog park…I wish I could take them all everyday…maybe even sit up a tent…camp there…be confined within the approximate 8 acres…so the dogs can run free. I’m lost my every loving mind.

Finally making it home on a dinner break…I take Daisy, Hampton and Reggie into the field. Have I mentioned what an incredible task this is? Tonight, I felt extra guilty because I had to start work at 2 and these guys have been in the crate for seven hours and still have three hours to go…and I hate it. It’s nothing like the caged bird…and yes, I’m clear on why the crated dog barks.

As I came back up from the field, feeling like it just wasn’t enough, I decided I could set the boys up so I could throw ball while they were on the cables. This has been the only withdraw Daisy has shown throughout the visit. It worked well…until the dance steps with the cables were interrupted by each other, and I stepped in to redirect. About that time, Little Ms Manners, jumped at the ball thrower in my hand and the ball was knocked out of it, falling to the ground. Somewhere around MY feet…Hampton and Reggie already in a tangled mess, Daisy in her “BALL!!!!” mode, Hampton in his “I got this, I’m the man!” Somewhere in the blur of it all, I went down hard. And you know what gets me, is not the pain I’m experiencing in my right wrist as I struggle to get my Class A’s off the grass from under three large dogs fighting over a BALL, it’s not that, but the fact that NOBODY cares that I went down! Unappreciated, I manage to arise to a safe height, detangle them and get everyone settled…back off to the street. Break over. Break? I must have missed something. What I’m not missing is that smell as I drive down the road. I get to the nearest pull off and check my shoes, nothing…There is no ignoring it. Somewhere in the struggle I must have well…I don’t want to even think about it. Not being able to locate the contributing area…I called George. “Honey, I’m gonna need you to smell me…yes, smell me.” Which after explaining the situation he understood my dilemma. Autumn must have overheard the phone conversation because when I stepped in his front door. Bam! She was on it. Smeared into my gun belt like a nice leather softener, her nose went right to it.

Day 8

Again, at 0630, my day is ahead of me and I am crazy with it as I sort and juggle in my head what will take place today. I’m exhausted before an hour as even passed. Grace arrives and the 100 Acre Wood is alive with activity.

I think about all the interesting tidbits I want to mark throughout the day but I just can’t seem to find the time to jot the notes. Today photos get past me, too. Reggie really likes lavender. Wish I could have captured him smelling the lavender blooms…Yes, Reggie…lavender is a very soothing plant…helps calm you…smell all of it you want.

George had promised to pay a morning visit, today. Grace is a lovely child. Daisy, Hampton and Reggie can be a tremendous amount of work, and you would think adding Autumn to the mix would have just increased the load. Sometimes, you just need an adult to be there with you…Reggie and Hampton like him, too. Reggie is enthralled with his goatee. But that’s another picture I missed. So, George does visit, and his addition to the mix was very helpful. Grace always enjoys visits from Papa, too. On day 8, I am barely moving. My neck is stiff, I’m certain from the fall. My wrist has shots of pain when I have to use it…which, is all the time, so, I’m eating ibuprofen.

This is the last full day…I can do this. No complaints from any of the dependants. I’ve managed well. (I’ve learned positive mantras like this)

The dinner break today, Ms Bright, took the dogs back into the field. Tonight I leashed Daisy despite the desire to let her run free. As we came up toward the road that the hay fellers use, passing the tall grasses, I hear the most gosh awful scream. There in the path, we have come up on the fox…the big fox…the fox Daisy likes to chase…and that Reggie and Hampton have yet to have the chance to chase. Evidently if you spook a fox they just stand there and scream like a girl and then take run. You know exactly what happened next. To describe it would be a disappointment, cause I know you are seeing the big black dog digging in his front paws as the sled runner, Daisy in her flight that looks effortless, Reggie with his quick reflexes all pulling me like a flapping kite behind them. But remember I was in Class A’s…My police demeanor was intact and the pulling and fighting was at a minimum as I shouted, “Stop resisting!! Stop resisting!!” I was so not going to go back to work stained by the field and unable to use my right arm. Three big dogs. One officer. Who’s “superdealwithit” meter was falling below the mark so the long arm of the law had to step in. I was back to work on time, without the “tales of the dogs” or the products there of…on my person.

Day 9

Snoopy Dance!!! At 0630…Hampton dear. This is all you. The time to have the dogs home was worked out with their master via text the night before and I tell them so as I pee, water and feed them. 10:00 boys, and it’s Moma time. Reggie looks at me inquisitively, and Hammy stand there with one ear lower than the other and reminds me of the medicine. Hampton sees the ear antibiotic and immediately assumes the position…I haven’t even seen him shake his ears the past few days. He doesn’t like the drops but he’s smart enough to know there is something good about them. And the morning is going really well…until…that dog-gone fox!!! Runs from the barn into the field and Daisy, the field guard spots it right way and takes flight.

Just for the record. I’m gonna get a trap…and I’m going to catch that fox and I’m gonna…well, take photos of it and cart it far far far away. And a stern fussing from me AND Daisy will take place. The story of the Fox and the Hound will never be the same. If I am feeling really mean I might have it stuffed and give it to Daisy for a chew toy. Teach that screaming little troublemaker. Just saying.

Some say “Life is a shitty business.” I agree. Especially after a week of picking up somewhere in the area of 40 piles of it. But it’s been a good experience. Hampton and Reggie vacationed at my house instead of a kennel. Daisy had two boys hanging around to wrestle with. Autumn was like a teen at a summer camp with the “boys, boys.” Emily and Grace thought they were a wonderful addition to their visits. George now calls me the Dog Whisperer. I’ve accomplished something that aided their master in enjoying her vacation and built more character in myself. Yeah, you might think I’m already a character, but you haven’t met Hampton and Reggie. Oh, wait…now you have.

Addition...it's been an hour or so since I posted this...my sister called and asked me what I was going to do special today...and I remembered...I was going to make this posting a tribute to Moma...this being her birthday...and remembering her love for writing, journaling. Happy Birthday, Moma...we would have celebrated your 69th birthday...and teased you about soon to be 70. Miss you...you've been on vacation too long.