Dog Stories and Other Things

Field Trip

2010-04-15T13:45:00.005-05:00

Sonny has a vet appointment in Collinsville tonight. I thought it would be easier to leave him and Dolly at Michiko’s house in my old neighborhood for the day. Then, after work, it would be more convenient for me to pick Sonny up at Michiko’s house, and go to the vet, instead of driving to my house, getting the dog, driving back to Collinsville, and trying to get to the vet appointment by 5. This way, I don’t have to leave work an hour early to do all that driving, I only have to leave work about 15 minutes early. This not only seemed like a time efficient plan, but my friend Michiko would love having the dogs at her house for the day.

Simple enough, don’t you think?

Getting them to Michi’s was a bit of a circus this morning, far more complicated than simply putting them in the car and going.

It went something like this:

First, I went down the basement steps to the garage myself, to put my purse and my coffee and my bag of miscellaneous stuff in the car. I opened the car and garage doors, stowed my gear and went back for the dogs.

Next, I let Sonny down the basement steps. He had been prancing around me expectantly since I first uttered the words “bye-bye” and “car” earlier in the morning. He runs down the stairs and he is free, racing out of the garage at top speed like a gazelle being chased by a lion, literally zooming over the yard and driveway, and then clattering back up the steps and into the house to check on my progress, “are you ready to go yet?” Zip! “Come on! Follow Me! It’s pretty outside today, let’s run! I love to run, see me run? I love to run fast! Come on, let’s go! Are we there yet? are we there yet? are we there yet? Hurry! Run! Let’s Go!” This is Sonny.

Secondly, I must get Dolly to the car. Dolly is far more composed than Sonny. We have a ramp for Dolly at the back door which leads to their fenced area. But when I open the door and tell her to come, she doesn’t want to go out back, because whenever I leave for work in the morning she always goes out to the front yard to go potty one last time, and besides that, her look tells me, you KNOW I prefer the front yard, where are you taking me? She hasn’t realized that I am going to take her someplace for the day. So, I walk down her ramp to the fence gate and open it, to indicate she isn’t STAYING in the back yard, we are going bye-bye, and she is going to have to come with me through yard to the gate to walk down the hill to get to the garage and the car. Dolly sees that she isn’t going to be left stranded in the back yard and finally follows me down her ramp and out the gate. She saunters leisurely the entire way down the hill to the car. It takes forever.

And finally, we are all together in one spot in the garage, ready to get in the car and head out. Dolly goes directly to the passenger side so I know she wants to sit in the front with me. She is willing enough to try to jump into the car, though she can’t do it completely on her own and I always have to boost her the rest of the way from behind after she gets her front paws up on the floor board. Sonny is already settled in his spot in the back seat and more than ready to go, but when he sees her getting in front, he jumps over into the front seat and plomps his butt down behind her. This action squeezes her out and she doesn’t have any room. Undeterred, Dolly just keeps on moving out of the way to give him room, over the console and into the driver’s seat, where she sits looking out the front window over the steering wheel, waiting to get this show on the road. Meanwhile, Sonny won’t budge from the passenger side. I try pulling his collar, swatting him to move, but he won’t stir. So I have to trick him. I choose the excited sounding, “Come on Son! Look at what I have!” while standing next to the open car door and patting the back seat, as though I have a treat for him, so that he will move back to his place.

When I get Sonny situated in the back seat, it is time to get in and go. But Dolly is still sitting in the driver’s seat. Mine is a small car and Dolly is a lot of big black lab. It takes major shoving to push her out of the way so I can get in and drive, because I am just too flustered to employ the same ruse I used on Sonny, to walk over to the other side of the car, open the door, and see if excitedly saying “Come on Dolly! Look what I have” in an animated voice while patting the front seat will work on her, too. Finally, she clumsily moves back to the passenger seat and sits rigidly, because she wants to look out the OTHER way and needs to turn around, but it is awkward for her to shift positions in such a tight spot. She finally readjusts and makes herself comfortable, she sighs in relief and/or exhaustion and drapes herself over the gear shift and console, her head in my lap, an ear dangling in my coffee. We are finally ready so I start the car and drive. She remains this way next to me on the front seat with her head in my lap, all the way to Michi’s house, while Sonny rides in back with his head blissfully stuck out the window biting the wind.

In all this commotion, I completely forgot to bring my lunch from home, my coffee had Dolly hair in it, Sonny ran around their yard in joyous lunacy when we got there and I was afraid he would run out into the street and get hit by a car, Jim and Michi were still in bed and I had to wake them up, Dolly pooped next to their driveway then wandered off into the neighbor’s yard in a daydream, and I think I forgot my checkbook and might have to drive back to my house to get it after all before I go to the vet ….. To top it off I am hungry for my forgotten lunch, and I feel fairly certain that we might be facing this exact sort of pandemonium, in reverse, in order to get home later on tonight!

And THAT was the simple act of taking my dogs on a field trip to Michi’s house for the day.

Office Stories 12/14/09

2009-12-14T10:50:00.009-06:00

8:30 a.m.
There is a heating problem in the lower level of our building. A maintenance man has been called. He has been sauntering in and out of our front door a number of times. He looks bored. He looks nonchalant. He looks like he is looking for someone who will not show up. He has come back through for the umpteenth time. Left hand in left pocket, moseying. He confidentially says to me as he wanders by, “Up and down”, as though he is weary of climbing the stairs to get from the furnace problem to his vehicle. Why is he always going to his vehicle? He is chronically empty handed when he returns.

He has just driven away. Perhaps he has realized that there is a door on the lower level.

I don’t expect him back this way again.

Pally, just fix the heat.

10:49 a.m.
Fed Ex has come to see me again. Not the delivery man. This is the Fed Ex AGENT who is still looking for a package they say I signed for, they think that it was delivered here. On Friday. December 4, 2009. By a substitute driver. Even though yes, that is my signature, we don’t have the package. I feel guilty that I can not produce this package. I feel I must have really put it somewhere and lost it. On purpose. And I don't remember. And I am responsible for it. I SIGNED FOR IT,that's the proof. Even though for real, I check the packages when they arrive, to make sure they are for us. I take the packages to Carol downstairs. Sometimes I email Carol and she picks them up from my desk. Sometimes I take them down to her at lunch time. I have already asked Carol if there are any Fed Ex packages that are not for us, lying around down there. She reports that there are not. I feel like they need to go look again. I need to produce this package for Fed Ex.

This is an important package. An International Package. From the country of Jordan. The intended recipient has already stopped in. Her name was Margaret. She told me it contained important legal papers. The papers are full of vital information, like social security numbers. She lives a couple blocks from here, and she is concerned because she can't find her package. Fed Ex told her they delivered her package to us because she was not home. That sounds odd, doesn’t it? We are pretty far from her house, I think a neighbor would have been more convenient.

The Fed Ex agent says the package contained divorce papers that are not easily duplicated in a foreign country.

I think Fed Ex is in big doo-doo, and I think poor Margaret might not be divorced from Mr. Al Badandi quite yet .

11:13 a.m.
I am the face of MC Industrial, I am the receptionist. I have plenty of spare time all day long. My dear daughter has forwarded many clever websites for me to look at, to help me wile away my hours. I am currently a fan of Hulu, and I have a long list of Christmas Release movies that I am keen to see.

Now it is 11:14 a.m.

This is going to be one happening Monday.

11:20 a.m. My earlier prediction was wrong: the furnace man just returned through the front door. He went to see our office manager. He has walked back out the doors. He is backing out of his parking space. He is driving away. On to his next appointment. Presumably. NOW I think I shall not see him again, for real. Until the next heating emergency.

11:30 a.m. Time for lunch. I'm not so much hungry as I am very bored.

11:58 a.m. A call from our Operations Secretary. She has to leave, a call from the school nurse and a sick kid. If any packages come for her, will I stick them under her desk? Sure. Got ya covered.

12:28 p.m. Chad wants to know where are the Solo brushes he ordered? I say they were in a box on top of the mailboxes last week, with no-one TO THE ATTENTION OF box. I look for them, but they are not there now.

Chad is not in the office, he asks will I send out a company wide email for their return. Certainly, is my eager reply.

The response to my email is that they are in the box that is leaning up against his office door in the hallway on the lower level, waiting for his return.

Another hot dilemna expediently extinguished by The Face of MC Industrial.

12:31 p.m. I want to loot the bag of Hershey's Miniatures of all its Mr. Goodbars.

12:45 p.m. As I open the mail I realize I hope that the guy who looks like Santa doesn't come in anymore. Frankly, he's weird, overly familiar and freaks me out.

12:31 p.m. Brad wants to know

"Liz,

What are solo brushes??

-Brad"

Liz responds:

"'Solo' is either a brand name or the brushes are very lonely.

-Liz"

I hope Brad gets my joke. (he did)

1:55 p.m. Jerry has just stopped at my desk.

"Liz" says he, "You are very sweet."

I say, "What do you want, Jerry."

Jerry replies. "No, I mean it. This is the time of year you say what is really in your heart."

Jerry turns away. "You won't be hearing this from me anymore, come January."

Give it a rest, Jer.

Goodbye. Hello.

2009-11-02T16:05:00.004-06:00

Goodbye:

Jim and Michiko’s house looks so lonely, I know they aren’t home. I wonder how they are?

Those friends of Kate’s are never home, the lights are always out!

Oh, those people must have had a bonfire for Halloween, look at the portable fire pit sitting out front. I remember when they had their daughter's wedding in the front yard.

Those people will never sell that house FOR SALE BY OWNER, it’s a piece of junk.

I wonder who the visitation is for at Herr? Hope it’s nobody I know….

Oh look, there ‘s a nice new wreath on the front door of Blum House.

I remember when the library was closed on Sundays. They did a good job on the Pan fountain.

Look at the fat lady coming out of Curves, not working for ya, is it?

I wonder if anyone will ever buy the old Ostle Family Pharmacy building, it would make a great ice cream shop.

Jim Stehman the Dentist. I bought his childhood home from his mother’s estate 6 years ago.

We had lunch from the Sandwich Shoppe yesterday, it was good!

What’s going into the old Glik’s Department Store place? The sign says something about Art Co-op, I wonder what that will be?

Lucky it’s nice out today for those smokers out front at Friday’s.

I love the paint job on that big old house on the corner, where the lawyer is.

That other corner is where the fat girl mooned me when we were driving to Home Depot!

The ketchup bottle’s looking good.

That’s the place that made my new countertops, I still have the guys’ tape measure that he forgot. I should stop and return it someday.

Remember when this was such a beautiful strip of road, with trees bowing over the way like a tree tunnel? We drove under it on our first drive in to live here. It was so peaceful and cool green on that August day, after such a long trip.

That used to be where the old strip joint ‘Dotty’s Body Shop’ used to be, what was it my brother said about tipping cows after they went in there?

Maybe we should try the Turkey Shoot at Hollywood Hts. some Sunday afternoon this fall.

Where the new gas station is, I remember when the old one was there, Jeffy threw up in the back seat when we stopped for gas. Then, we didn’t go to the mall.

And on I drove.

Hello:

I turned the new corner, with the last load in my back seat, and I’m home.

On Pop

2009-07-20T12:35:00.007-05:00

I think I'll have a can a pop. That's how I say it.

People really notice when I say pop. Boy, is it ever an attention getter. Because around here, everybody says soda.

As in Soda Pop.

They say the soda part, I say the pop part.

I'm not a soda gal. A soda is something you go down to the malt shop for, in your bobby sox and saddle shoes.

I was raised a little farther north than here, and I just can not call it soda. It's just wrong for me. Oh sure, I SAY soda sometimes, but it doesn't fit my mouth quite right, ya know? It's like calling a dear old friend, Miss or Ma'am or Sir. Soda sounds too formal to me. It's like saying the full name, Pepsi Cola, Coca Cola, Mountain Dew, Cool and Refreshing Doctor Pepper, 7 Up the Un-cola. Did you listen to that? Stiff sounding. WAY too formal.

That's not the relationship I have with pop. We're old friends, we hang out, we eat pizza, me and pop. Pop.

When I do refer to pop as soda, it sounds forced and unnatural, as though I am saying it just to fit in with the other soda sayers. But really, I don't want to fit in. I must stay true to my roots.
and say pop. I must resist saying soda. Forever.

When we lived in the south they called pop a cold drink, and you were a dirty suspicious northerner if you said any different. Of course it's a cold drink. It's POP! Who drinks pop warm?

On the other hand, I think I am going to start referring to the water cooler as a bubbler. That's just fun.

(Liz Scholz went to Lakewood High School, if that means anything to you)

Dream Reading

2009-07-13T13:42:00.003-05:00

WHO WOULDN'T LOVE A GUY WHO LETS YOU

TAKE HIS PICTURE WITH WIND HAIR?

After many long years of waiting to be in the right place at the right time, that moment has arrived. Rich and I have bought a new home for ourselves. We will be moving in within the next couple of months.

Unfortunately, I will have to give up the single most priceless commodity one can have in the neighborhood where one lives. Great neighbors.

Jim and Michiko have been my neighbors and friends for a couple of years. There have been many times I have called Michiko "My Angel". They have been people I can always depend on in any way. One of the very first things Michiko said to me in conversation was that she thought I was ok, but she was REALLY crazy about my dog. I think I have grown on her a little more than that since then.

Michiko had a dream about me.

As I stood in my driveway yesterday afternoon, hosing off 8 muddy dog paws for the third time of the day (Tucker is visiting; digging’s his game) Michiko called to me from across the street, “Liz-San, I had a dream about you!”.

She came over to tell me the tale….

THE DREAM: For reasons undetermined, I was away on a trip to Italy, and then to France. While I was gone, a large shipping box was delivered to my home. Michiko contacted Rich, who instructed her to open the box. Inside, there were two beautiful antique chairs, very beautiful. Very expensive. Very precious. I had found these chairs while traveling overseas and had shipped them home.

The dream subject itself is rather bland and unfantastic, though the chairs in her dream were beautiful and Michiko attested she would love to have them.

What makes this story worth listening to is the message of the dream.

Michi believes that to dream about a chair means that person (me) is in a good place in life. Able to rest after a long journey. I have been on a very long hard journey for several years. I think this fits for me.

I think this dream also tells me that, even though Michi is happy for Rich and me, and the forward path our life together is taking, Michi is going to miss me. She has dreamed about me traveling, and that travel will take me out of her daily life, to a place where I will be content and realized.

I believe in dream reading. I believe Michi’s dream was meant as a confirmation that where Rich and I are going, it’s the right place to be.

So, I think I am going to pull up a chair and take a seat.
It’s going to be a most enjoyable ride.

IN YOUR DREAMS: From the Dream Dictionary

Dream Subject: Rocking Chair
To dream that you or someone is sitting in our rocking chair, signifies friendly surroundings and jovial pleasures. You are in a comfortable and pleasant place in your life.

Dream Subject: Antiques
To dream of antiques, represent your time honored values, tradition, wisdom and inherited personal characteristics. It symbolizes something genuine or proven. Some things in your past are worth holding onto or worth keeping. If you do not like or appreciate antiques, then is suggests that you are moving away from outdated childhood conditioning or old modes of thinking. On a negative note, you may be discarding or rejecting something of value that you should really be embracing and heeding.

Dream Subject: Traveling
To dream that you are traveling, represents the path toward your life goals. It also parallels your daily routine and how you are progressing along. Alternatively, it signifies a desire to escape. If your travels come to an end, then it symbolizes successful completion of your goals.

Reception Reflections - Mars –vs- Venus and the Coffee Machine

2009-04-22T11:31:00.013-05:00

There is a Flavia coffee machine here in the kitchen by the reception desk. You can make one cup at a time, fresh brewed, in the morning for a treat, or at the end of the day when the regular pot has been cooking all day long.

It’s a popular machine. There are flavors and all types of specialty coffees. Espresso. French Roast. Hazelnut and French Vanilla. Make a Decaf. Make a Cappuccino. Green Tea. White Tea with Orange. English Breakfast Tea. Exotic Chai.

And there are toppings, too. Choco, Creamy Topping. Latte Swirl. Mocha. Milky Way. You can flavor your coffee like Candy.

Special Coffees.

The packets of coffee and toppings are shiny with a plastic tip that fits into the machine's grip opening. When you insert the packet and close the door, you put your cup under the slot and the coffee comes out hot and fresh brewed. Yummy.

Yesterday one of the guys was in a hurry and didn't place the plastic tip in the right position and the coffee packet got jammed in the machine.

I, as a woman, tried to delicately wiggle the stuck packet loose. I gingerly put my hand up inside trying to push the plastic top out, the way it went in, but I do not want to break a nail, so I withdraw my hand. I pulled on the shiny packet to get it out. It does not budge. I decide to call for Service and wait for Our Technician.

Dana came by. Dana tried to free up the machine. Dana is a very resourceful woman. She looked up at the stuck packet from underneath. She put her hand up inside even farther than I did. She prodded the packet trying to make it come loose. Dana also does not want to break a nail, plus she is getting coffee grounds on her hands. Dana can not rescue the stuck packet. Dana also decides to let us wait for Our Technician.

Greg H. came by. Greg H. always has one of these coffees when he is in the office.

Greg H. really wanted a coffee.

He opened the door. He Pulled. He Groped. He Yanked. He Twisted.

Greg H. fetched a pair of Scissors and cut the bottom off of the packet that is stuck inside the drawer of the Flavia Coffee Machine. Now there is nothing to grab on to because he has cut it off, and coffee has spilled all over.

Greg H. failed to unstick the plastic tip left inserted and stuck inside the coffee machine. Greg H. got a coke from the fridge and walked away.

Chad T. came by.

Chad T. doesn’t drink coffee, but he really wanted to help get that coffee machine working again.

Chad T. is helpful that way.

Chad T. opened the door.

Stop, I say, you’re going to make it worse.

He Pulled.

Quit it, I say, you’re going to break it more.

He Groped.

Cut it out, I say, I’m telling, if you don’t stop.

He Yanked.

Stop.

He Twisted.

Don’t.

Chad T. got a Letter Opener.

You’re going to get Electrocuted.

Chad T. dug and dug into that stuck plastic cap.

But Chad T. could not relieve the coffee machine of the stuck plastic cap. Chad T. gave up.

Chad T. walked away. He is not a coffee drinker anyway.

Aramark sent out Our Technician to help us get our coffee machine working again. Our Technician asked me, what’s up? I apologize to Our Technician that other amongst us have already tried and failed to get unstuck the plastic cap from inside of our coffee machine. I fear they may have made the problem worse with their tinkering.

Our Technician did not stick his hand up inside the coffee machine.

He did not Pull. He did not Yank. He did not dig or gouge.

He did not fetch scissors or get a letter opener.

Our Technician popped open the door.

Our Technician popped the door right off.

Our Technician turned our coffee machine off, counted to 10, and then back on.

Our Technician pushed a button to simulate the closing of the front door.

Our Technician made that stuck plastic cap pop right out into the bin.

Our coffee machine is working again.

Come on up for a cup a joe.

Sonny Deals With Boredom

2009-04-22T09:10:00.006-05:00

As a rule, he doesn't usually chew things up anymore.

But, with neighbors Jim and Michiko gone on vacation for 10 days, Sonny and Dolly are going to be left to their own devices all day long, at home alone in the doggie room. I didn't know how they would handle not going across the street to doggie daycare every morning at 10, to laze around at Michiko's, being spoiled and pampered, petted and walked, cooked for and fed, played with and groomed, and let out to the yard whenever they desired. I would just have to close the door, go to work and let things happen as they may.

I was more afraid Sonny would get his paws up on the buffet where I am sorting seashells, or the bird cage table, or my computer desk, so I shoved everything further back, out of reach, blockaded with chairs in front. I was thinking about letting them free to roam the entire house to ease their boredom, but thought better of it, mostly because of the potential potty issues. I decided, best to leave them corralled in the doggie room, where we can concentrate any damage.

The first day I expected to open the door to mayhem, Sonny mayhem, (Please refer to previous posts found in this blog, most especially, 'Bad Decision - the first installment', February 2008) but was pleasantly surprised to find just a little yellow puddle from poor old incontinent Dolly.

Day two brought different results.

When I first got home I didn't pay much attention to him because I was in a hurry to get to my aerobics class, so I just let him rush through the gate and out back.

When I let him back in, I noticed he was naked.

I went hunting under his blankies in the kennel for his collar.

Somehow, Sonny had been able to shrug out of his collar. His very first collar. Aw, the paw print one, the one he has been wearing since I got him from the rescue place, his sentimental puppy collar!

I just laughed and laughed when I saw the poor mutilated AND SOGGY collar. Obliterated.

I put on him one of Dolly's old collars, a red one, and it's a bit more snug than the other one was. It doesn't have his tags on there, maybe I will shop for a brand new collar for him, a Second Year Collar, I haven't decided yet.

In the meantime, this morning I left out plenty of durable chew toys.... we will just wait and see what today brings.

Growing Up

2008-12-16T15:05:00.002-06:00

In January, Sonny and I will celebrate our one year anniversary. I consider the day he came home with me his birthday. He was smart from the start and easily trained. He has been a mischievous, joyful, loveably rambunctious puppy.

He has not had a potty accident in months, he is now free to roam outside his kennel during the day while I am at work with no fear of mass destructino, and I never need to shoo him off furniture when I come back into the room. Please refer to BAD DECISION and APPROPRIATELY REPENTANT in the Archives, to refresh your memory of his training.

But now, I think he is growing up.

Sigh. Do I want that?

I have bought for him just about every stuffed animal squeak toy that WalMart stocks. Sonny has de-squeaked and de-stuffed each one swiftly, leaving only the shredded ‘skins’. I don’t toss these remnants, he likes them and wants me to keep them. I pick them up and store them in a laundry basket with his tennis balls, in the doggie room, by the back door. Every morning when he comes to wake me, he has already gone to his basket and picked out a toy to share with me to start my day.

This past Saturday, I went to WalMart for some odds and ends. While shopping I wandered over to Pets. On the spur of the moment I decided to purchase for Sonny a new stuffed squeak toy, myself being in the holiday spirit, having just come from Christmas shopping for my human friends. And besides, I haven’t bought him any new toys in a very long while.

This time I chose a turquoise mouse. It has a long tail. And whiskers. And it was only $2.97.

I thought to myself, hoo boy, this one won’t last long.

I could be wrong.

Here we are on Tuesday, the 4th day of ownership, and this is what I have to report: the squeak is still intact and the stuffing is still stuffed. The mouse is being carefully conveyed throughout the house like royalty, carried delicately and daintily as if a fragile treasure. The mouse sleeps in the kennel with Sonny, and is taken out for short excursions regularly. Sonny seems quite fond of the turquoise mouse.

And I think my boy just might be growing up.

Happy Birthday.

I Dare You

2008-12-12T14:44:00.001-06:00

This is Sonny's I dare you pose.

Please continue reading more stores below.

The Walk

2008-12-12T12:33:00.005-06:00

Work is very boring. It’s the holiday season, people are taking time off work, and in general there just isn’t a lot to do for those of us who show up. With so many people out today I just stayed the entire day at my desk to cover phones. By the end of the day, a long walk in the brisk December evening is the only thing on my mind.

Most nights I try to take both dogs for a walk around the neighborhood, a short walk. Dolly doesn’t have the stamina for those long walks we used to take. When Leonard was alive, our constitutional was almost a mile long most days, always in the same formation: Len leading the way on the outside, Dolly at his left flank, me holding the leashes behind. We would take the same route, at the same time of the day, cross streets at the same spot, all the same stops, every day. It was our routine.

When I moved to this house, it was just Dolly and me for a very long time. For our walks we would travel all the way around the block, and further. Anymore the days of long rambles are done for Doll. My Girl is up around 11 years now. I don’t know for sure how many years old this sweetheart rescue dog is, but she has been with me 10 years and her estimated age was about 1 when we adopted her. These days, Michiko takes the both of them for a VERY leisurely stroll down the street and back in the mornings, stopping to smell the roses along the way, before they spend the rest of the afternoon lounging pamperedly on her sun room floor. Our evening walks are always the same route, out the driveway, left onto Ridgemont Drive to east on Waverly Street, turn around at Irene Street and the big Pine Tree, then retrace our route home on the other side of the street. It’s the same walk every time. It’s our routine.

But today I need a longer walk. I am crumpled from sitting all day, there were too many Holiday Snacks sitting out, and I feel grumpy. I am pretty sure Sonny can take a long walk, he’s young and runs like the wind in the back yard, he’s in good shape, I think to myself, he can go with me on my long and restorative walk tonight.

But, how do I get out of the house without Dolly knowing we are going on a walkie, and that she’s not coming with us? The answer to that is: cookies. Here Dolly, take this cookie and go back into the living room to lie down by the Christmas tree. I pretend I am going out alone.

I stealthily fetch Sonny’s collar and leash from the hook going down the stairs, careful to let no chain jangle. It’s lucky he is already in the yard, Dollly won’t see him leaving to go out the door with me. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

I close the door behind us and we sally forth, Sonny and I, in the almost dark twilight of Thursday night, two weeks before Christmas.

We walk along our usual route. Sonny is his old self. He marks his same spots. He sniffs his same Stop Signs. He checks under his familiar shrubs. We stop at the curbs when cars drive by. He looks at the Holiday lights on the houses in short interest, then looks away dismissively. Crazy Humans.

Our promenade takes us past the normal turn around point. Sonny glances back at me. Do you know where you are going?

We turn a corner he has never turned before. Sonny is unsure on which side of the street he should progress. Whoa. This is different.

We proceed down a new avenue he has never navigated. Sonny now has no interest in smells or dog walk things. He looks like he has no idea where home could be. His ears are down, his tail is low. And he glances nervously behind at me with every new sound on this strange block. Are you sure you know where you are going?

We round an unlighted spooky bend and head downhill on a more populated and lit up street. I am enjoying the sights of the Christmas lights. I like to look inside the houses with the living room lights on, at other people’s Christmas traditions, what do they put on their Christmas mantels? How many stockings are hung by the fire?

Sonny grows nervous. He is out of his element and his pace becomes unsure. This is not his routine.

We start back up the hill on the next street, and the march becomes harder. The air is clean and my toes are starting to tingle, a good time for some exertion.

I notice his trepid pace, I have been noticing his reluctance all along. I know where we are, I say to him, we are heading for home. I reach down to reassure him with a pat by his tail that everything is fine. At my touch he jumps out of his skin like a nervous rabbit! Sonny is seriously disoriented. Where the heck is home?

We reach the top of the hill and we are getting closer to home. Things start to look familiar to him, he is in his morning dog walk with Michiko area. I walk behind him, watching his reactions. His ears perk up and he begins to perambulate more confidently. Oh yes, this is more like it.

I decide to say nothing more and see if he can take us home. He walks us the last block to our driveway and turns in, glancing back at me triumphantly.

I knew where I was going, all along.

Outside Dog

2008-11-29T11:45:00.006-06:00

Sonny does not want to come back in the house. He loves the outdoors, that is where he prefers to be. When he is inside he wants to go back out, when he is out he wants to stay out. He just loves to be outside, all that stuff he sees through the window when he is inside, he must experience at firsthand, outdoors.

I go out and check on him periodically. Do you want to come in? Are you too cold? Do you want a drink of water? Do you want a cookie?

I go out into the yard and he runs around me in circles, barking ferociously at me. He has a big dog bark now. Snapping. Playing rough. Run in, run away. Leaping up, hunkering down. Engaging me. Inviting me, come on, just try it. Fly off at high speed, charge back at me. Circle in from behind. Dive in to try to bite my butt. Pretend Snarling. Tough guy. I fake lunge at him, he speeds off at full tilt, he can move like the wind. I hide behind one of the trees and peek around to spy on him. He hides behind that same tree on the other side and waits for me to jump out at him, Haaar! so he can blast off in a figure eight around the yard.

This morning he did not want his breakfast. He sniffed at it but walked away. I brought it to him outdoors. He sniffed at it and would not eat. I left the bowl out there with the water next to it, he will eat when he is hungry.

I just came in from checking on him. He finally ate his breakfast. Had a drink of water.

But I am puzzled.

How on earth did he get a grass stain in the middle of his forehead?

Gimme Paw

2008-09-08T11:45:00.007-05:00

At long last, Sonny has mastered the Gimme Paw command. It’s not like it was that important for him to learn. Not like Sit or Come or Stay. Those commands are important for his own safety, so learning them is imperative. Gimme Paw is more a trick than a command. But I want him to learn.

When we first started learning this trick, I didn’t think Sonny would ever get it.

How we began: Sonny comes to visit me every morning after he has finished his breakfast, while I am getting ready for work. He will come to the doorway of my little master bathroom, always with some toy in his mouth, (or piece of one because almost all his toys are in shreds) tail wagging happy good morning. I will pet him and he will turn around under the robe that is hanging on the hook outside the bathroom door, plop down to the floor with the robe hem over his eyebrow, and watch me get ready for the day.

So it goes to follow that a few spare moments to interact with him started there in my bathroom.

I would sit down where we are nose to nose and say, Gimme Paw. And he would just stare at me. The look on his face said, What the heck are you talking about? His eyes are either vacant, or wander around the ceiling over my head, thinking, he knows he is supposed to do something, but his brain can not put his paw in my hand.

We try everywhere.

Gimme Paw while we are watching t.v.

Gimme Paw while I am reading the newspaper.

Gimme Paw while making my breakfast salads (yes, I eat salads for breakfast).

Aha! There is ham in those salads! And the dogs are right behind me.

Waiting for a treat. Dolly stands next to Sonny.

The commands begin.

Dolly sits.

Sonny sits.

Dolly gives paw.

Sonny sits.

But he looks real interested in that piece of ham.

The command is gimme paw. I will not pick up his paw to remind him. He must gimme it all on his own. In the meantime, Dolly is gimme-ing her paw all over the place. She gets Sonny’s tidbit of ham.

And he's none too happy about that.

We keep working on it, every morning from then on, that’s the drill.

Then one day a few weeks ago, Sonny gimmes the paw, albeit reluctantly, but he did it, so much praise is bestowed and ham treat given. I want spontaneous though. The spacey look is still in his eyes, and he still shifts his gaze as though thinking, making the connection between the words and the requested action.

And slowly, day to day, his reaction time narrows.

This morning, I turned around from the countertop, ham reward in hand. The two are already sit, so I say to Dolly gimme paw. Paw given. I turn to Sonny, and before the words are out of my mouth, I have his paw in hand.

Hooray! Gimme Paw has finally sunk in!

But then I think……

Tomorrow I am going to start gimme paw with Sonny instead of Dolly.

I think he’s been cheating on his tests.

Kona!

2008-07-01T12:37:00.000-05:00

We have a new neighbor. At the beginning of spring a young couple with a baby girl and young son moved in next door to us, along with their delicious chocolate lab that goes by the name of Kona.

Word has it that Kona is a little over one year old, so that makes him right about the same age as Sonny. How many times did I ever say when my kids were growing up and a neighbor’s house was for sale, I hope some kids the same age as my kids move in there.

At first meeting, Sonny was not so sure about this great big dog. Kona is built like Dolly, with a blocky head and full stocky body. Sonny has a runner’s body, long and lean, and though they are both about the same height, Kona easily has 20 pounds on young Son. But they were curious young dogs, and before long, they were running with each other, on their separate sides of the fence, in mirror image of one another, back and forth, run run run, twirl, turn, run run run.

The other day there was a commotion by my dogs in the doggie room. I walked in to find out what was going on and what do I see but Kona, standing up tall as if to reach the door bell on hind legs at the back door, nose pressed against screen, as though calling on Sonny and Dolly, come out and play! And Kona was smiling! Kona is a true character.

If I leave the gate to the backyard open when I let my two in, if Kona is out and hears us, he will run over and help himself to the backyard, hoping to find Dolly and Sonny for a quick run, a chase, and a tag you’re it. If I let my two out to visit, it is an amazing sight, and you need to step back out of the way quickly. You will see Dolly running like a young dog, with the two real puppies, blond lab, black lab, chocolate lab, the best dogs in the world, running circles, all in my backyard.

Looking out the kitchen window last week, I saw next to the compost heap, Sonny there, forehead to forehead with Kona, the fence between them, each digging furiously away, dirt flying up behind them. I imagine them as two little boys, plotting to dig a tunnel between their yards for easy access to play time, a passageway to adventure. Taking it a little further, I imagine next they will want to build a fort or pitch a tent and spend the night telling squirrel and bunny stories in the backyard, with a bowl of fresh water and a new box of biscuits to share. Or the walkie talkies they will need to stay in touch after they go in for the night.

On the days when Sonny is inside, and Kona is out, Kona will bark and bark until Sonny hears, to come out and play. On the afternoons when Sonny is out and Kona is not, Sonny will simply go sit in the corner of the yard by Kona’s house, looking longingly and expectantly, and wait, wait, wait, for his buddy to come out and run.

Kona is a wild man, and you have to be careful, because when he runs to greet you, sometimes you think he isn’t going to stop, and you have to either reach down to put on his brakes, step aside at the last moment or dare take a hit in the knees by that bulldozer of a dog. Dolly used to run to me like that, full force 85 pounds into my legs, to where a few times she knocked me clean off my feet. Those days are behind her now, but the torch has been passed to this young dog named Kona.

We are glad Kona and his people came to live next door to us. Life has taken on a nice new dimension with Kona and his people there.

It’s nice to have a friend next door.

Merlin and Wart

2008-06-14T06:56:00.004-05:00

In the story of Camelot, before the boy has taken the sword from the stone, Merlin the Magician is the teacher, and he calls the boy Wart.

This weekend we have a guest. Tucker has joined us for three days while Kate and Skip are on a trip to a family reunion in Indiana. Tucker and Sonny are the most famous of friends and enjoy each other's company with relish.

This morning as I lay in bed, Tucker and Sonny came in to check on me, as if wondering, was I ready to get out of bed and come play? They have already eaten and fetched the paper, it is time to start the day.

I sometimes try to coax Sonny to hop up in bed with me, but he never accepts my invitation. NOT ALLOWED! He will frantically circle the bed with a toy in his mouth, he will put up one or two paws with tail wagging furiously, he really wants to join me as I pat the covers, my bed looks sooo comfy, but he never makes the full jump up.

However, Tucker has no compunction about jumping up at the smallest beckon. He joins me in the blink of an eye and immediately makes himself comfortable across my legs, pinning me to the mattress. In an instant he has made himself my focus of attention. Tucker sighs contentedly and settles in with ease. Sonny reacts with agitation, he wants to come up and join us, he wants to be like Tucker.

Sonny wants to have a war with Tucker and my body is the intended battlefield. What better game could there be? Tucker stands up over me on the bed and reaches down to engage in the tug of war with Sonny. The tug instrument is a piece of unstuffed toy that Son has in his mouth, (I think it was the remains of the chicken that crows). I turn over and let them fight it out.

Eventually they tire of that game and it becomes time to go into the backyard to scout squirrels. I lean over the gate and witness the hunt. Sonny follows Tucker as a faithful student, mimicking all that Tucker does. Tucker runs from tree to tree with Son not far off his heels. If Tucker jumps up on the bark of each tree, then Sonny must jump up on the bark of each tree. Tucker is on the lookout for squirrels, eyeing the canopy of every tree carefully. Sonny, in turn, scrutinizes the treetops just like his mentor. Sonny has hunted squirrels before and I have watched him intently standing on point for minutes at a time, tracking a squirrel in the yard with his eyes, but when Tucker is here Sonny abandons his own skills, his only purpose is to be Tucker's shadow, to do everything as Tucker does.

When the hunting safari is over, they begin to run, just for fun.

As they run from one corner of the yard to the other, I notice these things:
Tucker is always in the lead setting the pace.
Sonny never takes his eyes off Tucker.
Oh Look! Sonny has Tucker's tale in his mouth as they run their figure 8's.
Sonny's hackles are always up as he follows Tucker.
One can barely tell which dog is which, they are so similar in color, you must pay close attention, Sonny is lighter, Tucker's tail curls.

They are winded and thirsty so they come in the house to rest.

Tucker settles down with Dolly, to groom her, and she basks in his attention.

Sonny goes to his post at the front door, surrounded by his toys. The squirrels are playing on the front lawn. The yard is his television. And he doesn't want to miss his shows.

Dog Walk

2008-06-14T06:17:00.005-05:00

We have been invited on a Dog Walk.

Yesterday evening I found this note at my front door. I know that it had been rolled up and left in the storm door handle, I saw it there when I came home from work. I forgot to get it, I usually don't enter the house through the front door. Anyway, I thought it was a flier for a pizza place. But later when I opened the front door, there it was laying on the stoop, the wind must have blown it out of the handle.

Something wanted to make sure I did not miss my invitation for a dog walk.

The event takes place over three days next weekend and we are keen to attend.

I am telling all my friends.

Hatchlings

2008-05-14T14:19:00.001-05:00

Thje four eggs in the cardinal's nest in my backyard have hatched, sometime yesterday May 13, ah, lucky 13.

Sonny has noticed the little bit of noise they make, and has stuck his nose up into the bush. I will be keeping my eye out for him so he doesn't cause any trouble.

I will try to get a picture to share.

60 Minutes

2008-05-06T17:39:00.004-05:00

That's how long I was gone taking a walk.

It is my sad duty to report that Mr. Popular ate Box of Feathers.

Nesting Mama

2008-05-05T11:03:00.006-05:00

There is a mama cardinal sitting on a nest of four brown spotted eggs, in the bush next to the patio by my back yard gate, in the picture it is the bush on the left.

I am afraid she is regretting choosing this spot, she must have found it on a more tranquil weekday, when nobody was home and the dogs were not going in and out the gate what must seem like every couple of minutes on weekend days.

When Mama bird hears my side door open she probably thinks, oh brother, here we go again. As soon as I appear she turns her head and spies me out of her left eye (because she is always sitting on the eggs facing away from the gate) and then she flies away. Each time it is the exact same escape, she flies down between the bushes below the leaf canopy and up to the first branch in the oak tree that is directly behind the kitchen window.

I always apologize to her, sorry mama, but I'm not really sorry. I always take the opportunity to get a look at the eggs in the nest and anticipate the soon to be baby cardinals.

Mr. Popular

2008-05-03T10:04:00.011-05:00

Now, some of you might have a hard time believing how Popular Sonny is around here. Others of you have read my stories and you already know about Jim and Michiko, about how they dote on Dolly and Sonny. But there are others who find Sonny a most delightful pet.

For instance, what about that ancient old man who walks his equally ancient dog around the block in my neighborhood? I see him every Sunday morning, around 10. He inches slowly up the street with his little dog sniffing the ground behind him. The little dog is a mop, chubby, short legged, and very old. The little old man approaches the fence of my yard, in the near back corner by the street, and reaches over to pet my jumping up Sonny, and then reaching over a little farther to pet the placidly sitting Dolly who is much too mature and ladylike to jump up on fences for a pet anymore. The little old gentleman will reach into his pocket for a treat for my two, who are expecting the treat, and they gobble down their surprises with relish. Then the little old man will remember his little old dog who is sitting as far away from my blustering crew as it possibly can, at the end of its tight leash, obviously wary of the two behind the fence. The little old man will point back and forth from his little old dog to Sonny and Dolly as if instructing little old dog to come make friends, and when little old dog does not budge, little old man drags little old dog, front paws off the ground, over to the fence, to make nice with my two. Little old dog obeys for a moment then backs off to sit once again at the end of his tight leash, and then it is time for little old man and little old dog to shuffle back up the street, retreating to wherever home is for them.

This morning, as I stood at my kitchen sink, I saw another neighbor of mine at my fence, petting Sonny. I don't know the name of this neighbor, but I've talked to him several times, mostly at my fence, once discussing Sonny, another time the ice storm last winter and what it did to the trees in our yards. He's a very nice man and I know that he deals in antiques, he buys them here and travels them out to Colorado or other points West to sell them for a higher profit than he would get here. This morning when I see him, he is dressed in shorts, a jacket and an orange ball cap and has his travel coffee mug in hand, which he puts down in the grass in order to reach over the fence with two hands to pet Sonny. Sonny of course jumps up, front feet on the fence, to greet him. Neighbor Man lifts a finger and says something, he must be making a command because after a few moments of tail wagging and pet-begging, Sonny sits, Sonny stays, and Neighbor Man reaches over and gives him love and praise. Just by the way Neighbor Man pets the creature Sonny, you can tell Neighbor Man is smitten with this animal. I observe this communication between these two from behind the curtain at my kitchen window, and it makes me smile and proud to see them enjoy each other so much. Sonny and Neighbor Man interact for about 5 minutes or longer before I see Neighbor Man pick up his coffee cup out of the grass and head back up the small rise to the street, only to stop, turn around, come back to the fence, and pet Sonny for just another minute or two more.

It's because of this I know that Sonny is Very Popular.

Doggie Day Care

2008-04-29T16:01:00.003-05:00

Almost daily ever since I made their acquaintance, my across the street neighbors Jim and Michiko have looked after Dolly during the day. Michiko strongly believes that animals should not be left alone all day while you are away at work. Period. Michiko is an animal lover, a dog lover, and she will tell you to your face, oh, I like you, but I love dogs.

So, everyday, she came over to my house, changed the dog water, let Dolly out back, spent time with her. Sometimes she swept up the dog hair out of the doggie room and maybe she might shake out the dog bed. Then she would take the collar and leash off the gate outside, put it on Dolly, take her for a leisurely stroll down the street and back for exercise, and then they would amble over to Michiko's house for an afternoon of lounging in good company.

When I would come home from work, the routine was always to pick up my mail, drop off my work stuff in the house, then cross the street to fetch Dolly home.

When Sonny first came to live with me, Michiko shook her head and maintained she would not be able to handle such a young rough and tumble dog. She regretted that she would no longer be able to bring Dolly to her house in the afternoons, because she did not want Sonny to be sad to be left alone at home, and have his feelings hurt.

Michiko still came over to my house, she let the dogs out, stayed with them in the yard, watching Sonny run up and down burning his energy. She would brush Dolly and keep them company for an hour or more each day. She told me that people would stop on the street and watch Sonny run, and ask where these dogs came from. She would shake her head and say, I don’t know, they are not mine.

A couple weeks ago when I got home from work, Dolly was not in the doggie room. And then again, a couple days later. Sometimes Dolly won’t go back into my house, she will sit down and not budge an inch, insisting to go home with Michiko, and often Michiko gives in to Dolly’s stubborn refusal to go anywhere but across the street.

Dolly might not have been home waiting for me, but there was Sonny, just sitting in his kennel, waiting for somebody to come home. He wasn’t lonely or anything, he was just being patient. Michiko had been there and made sure he had time outside during the day. He was fine.

But as fate has it, finally, the turning point came.

For the past couple days, when I get home, the house is empty.

Both Dolly AND Sonny are across the street at Michiko’s.

Dolly is relieved to be back in her old routine. Sonny is thrilled to finally be allowed to accompany her. It's like for a kid, graduating to big boy underpants.

I think it has been a rite of passage for Sonny. When I brought him home last night he led the way proudly prancing ahead of Dolly and I on his leash, leading us home, with the one toy in his mouth that Michiko allowed him to bring over during his stay.

Later last night, when I was letting him back in the house from the back yard, instead of going in the back door like usual, he started to walk over to Michiko’s.

The look back over his shoulder said it all.

See you later, back in a sec.

He's a big boy now.

45 Minutes Was All It Took

2008-04-15T09:34:00.006-05:00

For the past week he (and we all know who HE is) has spent the night out of his kennel, angelically slumbering on the bed in the living room corner. This is the bed that has the dog pillow he chewed a hole in on the first day he had it. It is now covered by a mostly intact comforter. He has been on his best behavior overnight, deceiving me.

I honestly felt he could be left alone for just an hour while I went to the eye doctor. I decided to stop home after my appointment, to see if I was right, and pick up my lunch before I go to work. I will have my true answer.

I put him in his kennel in the doggie room. I did not latch the kennel door. The baby gate was shut. Dolly was in there with him.

I was only gone for 45 minutes.

I was oh so very wrong. He is NOT ready to be left on his own when I am not there.

Here is a list of some of the things that were out of place:

A. Futon Area
1. Two throw pillows on futon removed.
2. One pillow on futon (which already had a rip in it) stuffing strewn over floor.
3. Two blankets from on back of futon are off futon.
4. Sonny hair (he is shedding horribly) is all over navy blue cover of Futon. (In my mind’s eye I suspect he has been using the back of the futon to ricochet off as he circumnavigates the room at high speeds)
5. Bed tray on futon is half off, folding legs are collapsed. Papers formerly on tray top are cast about.

B. Hearth Area
1. Batting from throw pillow mingles with shredded brown bags, debris field is widespread.
2. Dog food bowls are found here, 6-8 feet from starting points.

C. Kennel Area
1. Sheet that was under kennel is no longer under kennel. Sheet is IN kennel, in shreds.
2. Kennel is 3 feet away from starting point.
3. Kennel is now facing East, formerly facing North.

D. Dolly Area
1. As I enter the minefield Dolly looks at me with perplexity, she seems a little dizzy. Her look says, I don't know, but it was fast.

Mom

2008-04-12T10:40:00.010-05:00

May 13, 2008

If you had an assignment to write 5 of the first memories that come to your mind about how you remember mom, what would you write?

Here are my five, we’ll see in what order they pop up.

1. I am having a birthday and I am not yet in school, so it must be my 5th birthday. I am home with my mom. My two older sisters and older brother are in school, because it is January, so I know that is where they must be. I don’t know where my two younger siblings are (my youngest brother is not born yet), but in my memory it feels like mom and I are home alone and I am basking in the individual attention she is giving me. I am dressed in a special dress and I remember saying things about having certain privileges for that day because, I say, “After all, it IS my birthday”. She is standing by the stove in the kitchen, getting ready to bake my birthday cake, and she seems amused by my words, so I say it several more times during the course of the day to please her and make her smile more. She is making a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, even though there is probably cake leftover from last week. Mine is the last of four January birthdays. First my youngest brother, whose birthday is exactly seven days plus two days before my younger sister's, whose birthday is exactly seven days before my mom’s, whose birthday is exactly seven days before mine. It always was and continues to be a source of pride for me to be included with my mom in the January Birthdays.

2. I am perhaps 3 years old. I have been to the grocery store with my mom and she has bought for me a play wristwatch with a red elastic band that has numbers on the dial that glow in the dark after it has been exposed to light. I remember being impatient enough to want to see that phenomenon right away so I go into a closet in a bedroom at the old house on Corkhill Drive in Maple Hts., Ohio. While I am in there somebody has acidentally pushed a dresser in front of the door, just enough so that when I push to come out, I can’t open the door. I am afraid I will get in trouble for being in there because after a while I hear everybody calling my name in loud voices, inside and outside, over and over. I don’t know how long I was in there or if maybe I fell asleep on that pile of shoes in the back of the closet, but eventually somebody checks in the closet. I remember a squeezing hug, and the feeling of immense relief, "Didn't you hear us calling you?", and I didn't have a clue why. Not until years later, when my own son disappeared in Sears for half an hour only to be found brrrm-brrm-ing on the riding lawn mowers did I realize how frantic mom must have been.

3. I am in 3rd grade, and I remember waking up, sitting on the bedside table next to my mom’s side of the bed in the middle of the night, asking her to buy refill leads and erasers for my beloved turquoise Scripto mechanical pencil. I have been sleep walking/talking and my mom is telling me gently, go back to bed Lizzy, we’ll talk about it in the morning.

4. When I was 13 years old, Mom took 6 of the 7 of us kids across country, camping in a trailer pulled behind a white Ford CountrySquire station wagon. She took us to see canyons and mesas and forests and Las Vegas and the Pacific ocean, Badlands, corn lands, mountains, hills, deserts and prairies, and Mount Rushmore. She made the plans with my dad's help , but I know it was her idea. She executed this trip pretty much alone for the most part until car trouble around Flagstaff, Arizona (where the only camground to be found was on an Indian Reservation in Tuba City over the 4th of July) which prompted my dad to fly out and join us a little earlier than planned. That summer was an experience I never appreciated until last May when I made a similar trip with a friend and realized the enormity of what my mom had done, the gumption that it took to undertake it, with 6 in tow, kids aged 4 to 16, across the country pulling a trailer, to discover this great country with her children.

5. This last one is the last conversation I ever had with my mom. I am grown and have 3 kids of my own, I am 42. She has been having trouble catching her breath and it has been found that she has heart trouble, a torn aorta or something, I don’t recall the specifics anymore. Mom must go into the hospital for heart surgery. I speak to her the night before she goes in, our usual Sunday night talk, and she is expressing concern about the surgery, so I said, Mom, don’t worry, everything will be fine. She said back, I’m not worried Lizzy, I’m scared.

I saw her in her last days when she was on the ventilator and I wondered if she could hear me, if she knew I was there to say goodbye. I was never worried or scared for her because I never believed my mom wouldn't be there some day.

She’s been gone for 9 years today.

I miss my mom.

Trust

2008-04-11T08:02:00.029-05:00

Sonny trusts me.

Yesterday morning I encountered Sonny outside my shower door as I do every morning. He comes to investigate the room from which I emerge at this time every day, from behind a curtain, in a towel wrapped head, wringing wet.

This morning as always, he has one of his half toys in his mouth. You know, half toy, a stuffed animal that has been ripped open, squeaker destroyed, stuffing removed, essentially a toy 'skin'. This one is his raccoon. All that remains is the striped tail barely attached to some ratty looking fur. I take it from his mouth and drape it over his nose, telling him STAY as I adjust the 'skin' on his snout. He trusts me, he is obedient, Sonny doesn't move. He sits in my bathroom with the toy hanging on his nose, watching me to release his stay. He might have sat there all day long wearing his toy on his nose, but I release him, laugh and think, what a great start to a day.

Sonny is trusting me that he looks as ridiculously darling as he really does.

I trust Sonny.

Sonny is getting restless and bored staying in his kennel during the day. He is destroying his covers. He nips holes in the old comforters, and then empties them of their fill. It starts out that he is licking the material of the comforter, then he is nibbling a stray thread here and there, then before he knows it, voila, there is the stuffing poking through the hole that needs to be pulled and pulled and pulled, and oh well, thinks he, let's just make that hole a tiny bit bigger so it's easier to get at the fluffy white filling.

I bought him a dog pillow and tied a sheet around it. A comfy bed in his den. I delude myself that the sheet will remain intact. The sheet was not a deterrent. He shredded through the sheet and chewed a hole in the new pillow, which can easily be patched, but I took it away fom him with a scolding and it is now Dolly's pillow. She will show that pillow some RESPECT!

From now on he will only have old sheets for bedding in his kennel.

I feel sorry that he is so bored that he munches up his bed. But during the day when nobody is around I simply can not leave him alone outside his crate. I think that when I am out of his sight, and out of the house, I am out of his mind, and that is when he chews the blankets. When he is out of his kennel when I am home, he does not destroy the bed stuff. It is because I am always home when he is free that he knows I will be looking out for what he is doing.

Overnight last night I tried it.

I left Sonny out of his kennel.

I have noticed that at night, when the light timers turn the lamps off in the living room, he shuts down and lays on the dog beds in the living room and stays there. When I get up to go to bed I have a hard time getting him to go to his crate. I want to know if he will stay until the timers turn the lights back on in the morning.

He already knows I am down the long hall in my room. He is smart enough to realize that my many years as a mom have given me eyes in the back of my head and ears in every room. I am there. And I know that he does not ruin his blankies when he is out on his own.

I trusted him to sleep well overnight out of his kennel.

And he did.

Box of Feathers.

2008-04-05T13:55:00.022-05:00

I love birds.

I especially love parakeets.

I once had a nesting pair and ended up with 25 birds in two cages in my bedroom.

That first clutch of eggs was so exciting. I remember peeking into the nesting box now and then over the several weeks' gestation, checking on Suzy sitting on 6 eggs. It was like a Science Project. When the eggs started to hatch it was so enormous, like little whispers happening, new life coming into the world, and it was happening in a cage in my bedroom.

Those naked babies were amazing, humming in that wooden box, snuffling at first, then the faintest of prip prip, then the all out CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP! The bigger they got the louder they got.

But they grew charmingly, sprouting all different color of feathers, two were white, two were yellow, a blue one and a green one. The loudest one was a pure white bird who I named Margaret, after my sister. I named them all. Oliver. Pierre. Sirrus. Once they had names they became family.

Suzy had another clutch of eggs, and then another. The older she got the fewer the eggs she would lay, and from the last clutch the birds that came of it were small and weak. I even think one was a little bit retarded, he walked in endless circles on the bottom of the cage, like a blinker left on, and he didn't live for long.

Eventually, Suzy died, and her mate Jimmy died, and then the babies grew up and either they died or I gave them away, to friends or the pet shop, but I kept one or two for company and as keepsake of the Science Experiment, and when they died I buried them, washed out the cages and put the bird stuff away.

I didn't have another bird for many years.

Last August, feeling lonely and a little down, realizing the need for the sound of another live thing in my rooms with me, I bought a parakeet.

I named him August, and call him Gus. He is white and light blue, and I purchased him because, in the big clear plastic walled cage at Petco where he lived with all the other birds, he was doing antics on a perch, turning himself upside down and inside out, in, around, over and under that perch. He enchanted me.

Gus came home with me and sat in his cage, frightened at first, and then terribly lonely, for several weeks. He needed a friend, he was so obviously depressed.

I called my young friend Caroline and on one November Tuesday we went together, back to Petco, to look for a buddy for Gus.

We approached the bird cage in Petco and began our determination of who would be the most suitable companion for Gus. We walked around and around the cage for 30 minutes, debating the attributes of this one versus that one. Color, personality, finesse, all attributes were considered. Finally, deciding on a bold green and yellow number full of strut and gumption, we called over the Petco person and pointed out our choice.

Getting that bird out of that cage was like a hat game on the Jumbotron at a ballgame, trying to keep an eye on which one he was amidst the flutter and feather of the agitated birds when the attendant put his hand into the cage. Green and Yellow bird seemed impossible to be caught, he darted, ducked and dodged, he was one tough guy to catch.

On the way home, Caroline and I named him. Tough Guy Buddy, T.G. Buddy. I mostly just call him Buddy now.

These days they are moulting and dropping many of their most downy feathers, feathers that stick to your fingers when you pick them up. I keep a little Macy's box next to the cage to keep the feathers in. It is a beautiful surprise every time I open it and see the feathers of Gus and Buddy inside, chest feathers that are jewels of soft diamond white, Gus blue, Buddy yellow, emerald green. Cheek feathers that are miniscule with a black dot. Wing feathers, strong and tight. There are no tail feathers yet, but when they come they will be long and straight, dark green and black. They are all beautiful feathers, and I save as many as I want to.

Today I added to my box of feathers, and I think, there is a color missing. The missing color is dark blue.

I am going to Petco this afternoon, I am looking for Seamus.

Get the Paper

2008-04-03T08:33:00.005-05:00

'Get the paper' is a common command every morning at my house.

I am so excited that Sonny has, seemingly effortlessly, learned to fetch the newspaper from the end of the driveway in the mornings. It is so convenient to have a dog who can do that, especially on rainy, snowy or just plain cold mornings. Usually Dolly performs this duty for me, she came to me knowing how to retrieve the paper. Lately she has begun sauntering more and more, with her ever increasing, ho hum, I'll get it when I get there attitude it is time, I decide, to start passing the torch. Good ol' Doll has been in service to me for more than 10 years.

Training Sonny went something like this:

Day One: Dolly, get the paper! (I let Sonny follow her out to the front yard instead of putting him behind the gate, I am now confident he will not run away when given freedom to run.) Dolly gets the paper, Sonny tinkles on a bush and watches.

Day Two: Dolly, get the paper! Dolly ambles out across the lawn toward the newspaper at the end of the driveway, stops, squats, tinkles, wanders to the paper and meanders back to the house with it. Sonny lifts his leg on his bush and watches.

Day Three: Sonny, get the paper! Sonny dashes to the tree, to the other tree, to the garden, towards the backyard, a loop around the potty bush, spies the paper, brings it in. Dolly watches.

Day Four: Sonny, get the paper! Son runs to the paper, legs flying, floppy puppy racing, grabs the paper, brings it to me and drops it at my feet. Dolly has decided to relinquish her duties after these many years and has already gone out back behind the gate.

There, I think satisfied: Trained.

This morning, Day Five, 5:08 a.m. I leave them both out the door and in general say, Get the Paper. I have the gate open so they can go straight into the backyard after whoever has gotten there first brings me back the paper. Sonny gets it, Sonny has it in his mouth, I see he is running back to me, I stoop to receive the paper, he doesn't stop running, ooopsy, there he flies, past me, through the gate, into the backyard, with my newspaper in his mouth! Oh no! He sails to the far side of the yard, a very big yard, and drops the paper. I loud whisper, Get the paper Sonny, Get the paper Dolly! Somebody get the paper off the compost pile where he has plopped it so that I don't have to walk out across that big muddy yard in the before dawn dark in the rain over hidden poop bombs!

Nobody gets the paper.

I start to walk out a little ways. Dolly is now nearest to the paper. I say, Dolly get the paper. Dolly hears, and has it in her mouth for a few seconds but something catches her nose and she goes off sniffing, the paper dropped forgotten again, now in the middle of the yard. I walk a few more cautious steps, chanting Dolly get the paper Sonny get the paper Dolly get the paper Sonny get the paper. SOMEBODY get the paper!

Sonny finally brings the paper to me and drops it at my feet. There. Done.

I need to be trained: do not 'open gate' before 'get the paper' is concluded.

Imagination

2008-03-28T12:31:00.006-05:00

Do you ever let your imagination get the best of you?

It just happened to me.

My "office" is a construction trailer parked between the math building and the gym at a high schoool. We use the faculty restrooms in the admin building, a short walk away.

This week is spring break for the kids so they are not around.

There have only been a couple of ladies working in the principal's office all week.

In effect, the place is deserted.

I was just in there.

The light was out when I opened the swinging door.

That light has never been turned out before.

This spooks me.

My imagination takes off.

Somebody is in the next stall.

(I check for feet underneath.)

Somebody is looking over the top at me.

(I look up.)

Somebody is going to shoot me through the stall wall.

(Too much Terminator. I lean back.)

I imagine someone lurking.

(Somebody is hiding their head and feet.)

I hurry up.

(Somebody is going to jump out at me.)

I am making myself really frightened.

My heart is really racing.

I wash my hands and make tracks out of there.

I didn't turn off the light when I left.

If it's out when I go back, I'm not going in.

STAY Confused

2008-03-26T10:19:00.005-05:00

I am trying to teach Sonny "STAY". First attempts have been met with some success.

The first time we attempted to teach and learn, we were in the doggie room where his kennel is and I have a dish full of his after school snack (his supper) and I want him to STAY. But if I want him to STAY, then Dolly must STAY also. I put the food down on his mat and hold my flat hand out, I command STAY. He tries to sneak over and Dolly tries to sneak over, but I insist, STAY. Dolly plunks her butt down and stays, looking like, man, I already know this part, why do I have to do it? But Sonny scurries back to his kennel ears down, wondering if he has done something wrong, to him my strong command voice sounds to him like he is in trouble. Several times he tries to get to his food but on my command STAY he heads back to the safety of his den, his kennel. and he STAYS.

I think, well, STAY in the kennel is STAY, that works, so I continue to hold my flat hand out repeating the command, and they both continue to STAY. I count 1-2-3.... to 10, and then with fanfare wave them to their dishes. Praise, Good dogs, good job, good sit, good STAY.

We do this several days in a row at snack time, and he is doing STAY very well, he will go to his kennel and STAY. I will count his time on STAY and he will not move until I say, Come and Get It! Food, the ultimate reward.

Then yesterday, we are in the long hallway at my house and I decide to practice STAY. Sit Sonny, STAY, Dolly hears us and comes to join us. They both sit, but only one stays. Sonny wants to STAY, but STAY, for him, means STAY in his kennel. He will sit right away but repeatedly darts away to head to his kennel to STAY. He is confused but Dolly is not. She STAYS and she STAYS, and she is so proud of herself. Learn THAT young dog, is what she must be thinking.

We have work to do, Sonny and I. Dolly will help.

Mika

2008-03-22T11:43:00.003-05:00

My angel Michiko and her husband Jim, lost their dog this morning, 14 year old Mika, so frail, so sweet. This is for you.

To Those I Love

If I should ever leave you,
Whom I love
To go along the silent way. . .
Grieve not.
Nor speak of me with tears.
But laugh and talk of me
As if I were beside you there.

(I'd come. . .I'd come,
Could I but find a way!
But would not tears and
And grief be barriers?)

And when you hear a song
Or see a bird I loved,
Please do not let the thought of me
Be sad. . .for I am loving you
Just as I always have. . .

You were so good to me!
There are so many thingsI wanted still to do. . .
So many things I wanted to say to you. . .
Remember thatI did not fear. . .
It was
Just leaving you
That was so hard to face.

We cannot see beyond. . .
But this I know:
I loved you so. . .'twas heaven here with you!

by Isla Paschal Richardson.

Brave Dog

2008-03-22T10:08:00.006-05:00

Rich and I are dog lovers. Rich has had a number of dogs over the years, I can't really name them all. Since I have known him he has had a dog named Maci.

Maci, the 65 pound black lab mixed breed, became blind several years ago. Her eyesight began to fade gradually, it took about 2 years, until she became completely blind. Whatever caused her blindness made her eyes start to lighten and eventually her eyeballs became white. It freaked out the little kids when they saw her, and the kids would always say in a scaredy voice, What's wrong with her eyes? We answered them saying simply, she's blind, she can't see. Then, to the kids, she became not scary, but, aw, poor doggie.

Maci was not bothered by her blindness. It came on so gradually, she accustomed herself to the blindness as gradually as it happened to her. She would still retrieve the newspaper, since it was always in about the same spot on the driveway at home. It just took a little extra sniffing to find it. Bringing the paper in, in the morning, was the most important job and duty in life for our dogs Dolly and Maci, and they shared the responsibility. The mornings when they woke up together, at paper fetching time, they would both run boldly in a race to get there first to where the paper would be. Sometimes, if they were at my house, Maci would get disoriented and wander off course, or she would have to take a detour around a car in the driveway. Listening for her beacon, Dolly, Maci would remain in hot pursuit of that gold ring, the newspaper. These times, Dolly would run out and pounce on the paper so that Maci could hear where it was, and maybe or maybe not Dolly might walk away from it and let Maci bring it in. If Dolly would not hand it over, be aware that Macie seldom would take no for an answer and would valiantly wrestle it away from Dolly. Maci could pick up the heaviest and thickest of Sunday newspapers, no paper would ever be too much of a burden for her.

Maci would still play ball, the sound of it rolling or bouncing on the floor, or a tapping of your toe behind it, was all she needed to locate it. Maci was brave, running full speed alongside Dolly, flank to flank, in the game of catch trying to get to the ball first, or to get it away from Dolly. Blindness never, ever, changed the joy she found in the game.

Maci, the kind of dog that if you pet her for even a few seconds, will put one foot up on your lap, pet pet, the other foot comes up, pet pet, a hind leg up on the chair, pet pet, the other hind leg hitching up, so that within not even minutes this dog would be blissfully sitting on your lap, tail wagging, head back, tongue lagging, in rapture.

Maci loved bunny chasing, and I think that is the only thing she couldn't do after the blindness set in.

Maci adapted. Maci loved her people. Maci played. Maci enjoyed her life. Maci was brave, blindness didn't change anything about her. Maci was happy and healthy for many years, robust and always hungry. Maci was never aw, poor doggie.

Maci changed this past week.

Maci died peacefully at home yesterday, on the first full day of Spring, March 21, 2008.

Mars -vs- Venus

2008-03-21T13:41:00.009-05:00

We were out with some friends last night, at Sybergs, drinking beers and looking up the definition of some dirty words on Rich's iphone, I know, how mature, but it was really a quite funny conversation we had going. Soon, that was all the fun we could handle, and it was time to go in search of a place to eat dinner. He asked me, where would you like to go?

I said, I want to go to that corner place for dinner, you know the one, I said to him, it's at the end, on the corner, in that new shopping strip by your house.

To which he responds, Do you want to go to Tuckers for a steak?

I say, no I want to go to that corner place for dinner.

A pause. A sip of brew. Says he, do you want to go to someplace closer on the way home for you, like in Webster Groves?

No, thanks dear, I want to go to that place on the corner. It's right on the street by your house that leads to the highway and you have had enough beer, you shouldn't drive so much.

So we head for the corner place I want to go to, and drive around looking for a spot to park. There are no parking spaces close. We drive across the parking lot looking for the next closest place to park (he is following me in his car). I see this other place across the parking lot, where there are plenty of parking places close by, and it looks open. I drive past to check it out , but upon inspection I think, no, I want to go to that place around the corner. I drive back over towards the place where I want to go, and get a parking spot that is not real close, but the walk is not far, to that place at the corner where I want to go.

I see he is not pulling in next to me but is parked back there by the rejected place, and he calls me from that parking spot.

He says to me, this place looks nice, let’s go here.

I say, no I want to go to that place around the corner.

But this place looks nice, says he.

Exasperated, out of exhaustion, I finally say, fine, lets go.

When we walk into this place where I don't want to go, it is nice and new and pretty but it feels like a lunch place, not a dinner place, and I am frustrated, because this is not where I want to go.

Saying nothing, we read the menu. (It is upscale fast food, order at counter, pay at the counter, wait for it to be brought to your table by kitchen staff.) We order our food, it is Italian and I don't want Italian, either. I order a small Caesar salad and go sit down to wait for him. I get glum because I really wanted to go to that place around the corner.

He comes to the table with two glasses of wine, and I feel quiet and petulant. He says, what’s wrong, and I say, I don’t like this place. He responds with surprise, why didn’t you say so?

I TOLD you where I wanted to go, says I.

He queries, But why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to go here?

Can someone tell me, how many miles are there between Mars and Venus?

Kick Box Girl

2008-03-12T10:24:00.005-05:00

I teach aerobics at the local gym. A while back I walked into the upstairs aerobics room to open the stereo cabinet and get ready for class. In the room already was a pudgy young woman, barefoot, in kickbox attire, apparently practicing kick boxing moves. Swift kicks, sharp jabs, fierce looks, karate chops, Hi-Yah! She apparently has high self esteem since she knows martial arts.

I continued to set up my place at the front of the room, step, risers, weights. the young woman continues to practice, oblivious to obvious preparations for a class.

My class filters in, approximately 10 women, various ages, sizes, shapes. We are all familiar with one another. We greet. No one knows the kick boxer girl. We eye kick box girl. Kick boxer continues to practice.

My class begins, I have my microphone tuned up, the music on loud, I begin with my cues. Kick boxer girl continues to practice, jab, thrust, chop-chop, and my ladies are eyeing her curiously. Their focus is distracted. I must get rid of kick box girl.

I lead my class in warm up. Ooops, so sorry, my class needs to march up 1-2-3-kick, right in front of where Kick Box Girl is practicing. Kick Box Girl has to stop in mid kick and wait. She looks a little fuming. She moves from the side of the room to the back of the room. Ooops, my girls have to grape vine 4 times and face the back of the room to walk up 1-2-3-kick, and, oh so sorry, they once again must march in front of practicing Kick Box Girl, who once again must wait and fume. We are taking back our space for our class. Kick Box Girl must die!

Kick Box Girl has no more room to practice. Kick Box Girl catches a clue and leaves the room.

My territory is secure.

The point of this story is that some people at the gym are either thoughtless or self important. It MUST have been obvious to this Kick Box Girl that we were having a regularly scheduled structured class, yet she continued to do her kicking and flailing and disrupting as though what she was doing were way more important then us having our class.

A few weeks later I was down in the weight room, where men and women were lifting weights, in somewhat confined areas, and who is there but Kick Box Girl, kicking away, and barely missing all the people with her fancy moves.

Some people never get the picture.

Shoes, Shirts and The Goodwill Pile

2008-03-12T06:59:00.003-05:00

I love shoes. I have lots of pairs of shoes. Some I wear all the time, like my work shoes and gym shoes. These are kept on the floor of my closet, easy to get at, in pairs, lined up neatly. Some other shoes are in the shoe holder in my closet, the ones I wear to weddings, not very often, like the two times a year I wear a dress or the times I might wear heels with jeans. Some I have tried on with an outfit a million times but have never actually worn out of the house, because my jeans aren't quite long enough to go with, or they just look plain stupid with a dress, what the heck was I smoking when I bought those?? These shoes are the saddest ones, they were so hopeful coming home with me, and I was so hopeful of looking really chic wearing them, but it turns out they were only destined to be place holders in my closet. These sort of shoes stay in my closet a couple of years until they are hopelessly outdated, then they move to the basement, at the bottom of the stairs, where I pile up my bags of old clothes and boxes of shoes that are on their way to the Goodwill.

I don't actually TAKE these bags to the Goodwill until they have been on the basement floor for at least a year. I might change my mind about the stuff I already haven't worn for 4 or 5 years. And sometimes I do. I'll take an old sweater out of the bags and think, hm, why did I ever think I didn't want to wear this sweater ever again? So I wear it and realize that I never want to wear it again because the stupid tag on the inside irritates my left oblique even though I have cut off the most of it, the part that is sewn to the seam is still annoying and scratchy. Or, why did I ever put these cute red slip-on tennies into the pile? So I wear them to a Cardinals Game because they are the perfect color of red, and then I remember, these are uncomfortable because they don't stay firmly on my skinny foot and it's real work to curl my toes to keep them from slipping off at every step.

Sonny has long ago discovered the shoes at the bottom of my closet. Shoes that I thought were already in the basement, he has pulled out from the back of my closet. What really surprises me is that he has started to bravely venture into the basement, a place he feared going when he first moved in with me, and now he nonchalantly does the steps and has begun to present me with samples of castoff shoes that I put down there for the Goodwill. He'll disappear for a few minutes and the next time I turn around there is something on the living room floor I remember buying in 1999. He is fast and furious when it comes to carrying a shoe out of my closet or from the pile. I can't keep up with him! As soon as I put the shoe back, there's another one to take it's place. I really have to keep my closet and the basement doors closed, I need to pay more attention to that, and I think it's about time to take the present pile to the Goodwill and start a new pile, I'm really never going to wear anything from that pile again.

But first, well maybe, I think I am going to try those black sandals my sister gave me again this summer. With that white shirt. And I'm pretty sure those jeans will fit me again........

The Hen That Crows

2008-03-06T08:54:00.002-06:00

Sonny is spoiled, and I am the one who is spoiling him.

Last night I had to go to Walmart and of course I had to get him a new baby. He has plenty of babies already, but that has nothing to do with it. I want him to have more.

Last night in the dog toy aisle I picked out a white hen with a red comb and yellow beak. If you press the breast it crows. I decide,This is the toy for Sonny.

Back at the ranch I give him the toy and he trots it around the house as if showing the baby around, and eventually he realizes it will make a sound. If you press it one time it crows 3 times in a row. He found the right spot and wouldn't let up. Over and over and over again.... the crack of dawn at 7:30 p.m.

There were only so many cockadoodledoo's I could take.

The Crowing Hen has a hiding spot, and I'm not telling anybody where it is.

Snow Day

2008-03-05T08:09:00.002-06:00

Yesterday was a snow day.

I left my house around 7:30 to go to a doctor appointment in Swansea, and the roads were a little bad but navigateable easily enough. But when I left the doctor's office things were much changed! I drove off, heading for work, via Frank Scott Parkway and Route 15, towards I-255. by the time I got to 255 I knew I was not going to go to work, the roads were miserable and I could barely see out my windshield because the wiper blades were so covered with ice. I said to myself, I can get to work but the drive home later will be even worse, I'm going home.

And I did.

It was a marvelous day! I finished all my laundry, I made my bed, I finished unpacking my suitcase, I looked at my bills, I made found cookies and found spaghetti.... found because I didn't have the typical ingredients, so I used the things I found in my cupboard, oatmeal, molasses, coconut, chocolate chip cookies (I would normally make oatmeal raisin) and the spaghetti had a jar of marinated artichokes and black olives instead of mushrooms, red onion, zucchini and italian sausage, the usual ingredients in my spaghetti. It was a delicious dinner, and everyone is enjoying the cookies.

To make the cookies I needed two eggs, so I went over to ask Jim and Michiko to borrow the eggs, which they were happy to provide. When I brought them back a plate of cookies Michiko had to give me something from her house to take home, you never leave her house empty handed, so she gave me some cottage cheese and a bottle of ranch dressing, she is the sweetest thing. Did I ever mention that Michiko is my angel?

And Sonny! In the Snow! racing, diving, running, jumping! He came inside at one point with a golf ball size glob of snow on his nose, he didn't even notice it. Dolly would need to have the snowflakes wiped off her coat whenever she came back inside, because she would potty and then stand at the gate til I let her back in, but Sonny never had to have his coat wiped, he was always moving, no snowflakes could catch him! He enjoyed having me home all day, I could tell, because he brought me every pair of shoes out of my closet that he could reach. Twice.

I love a good snow day.

Vacation Is Over

2008-03-03T10:26:00.002-06:00

We were in Florida all of last week. The weather was fine and the temperatures were reasonable, we got a little color in our faces and on our arms and legs, and the entire trip was leisurely and uneventful. The best part was the big soft bed in that condo! I didn't know I liked that kind of soft fluffy mattress so much! Now I want a new mattress!

It was getting home and retrieving Sonny from Kate's house that I was looking forward to mostly.

Apparently, Sonny and Tucker have become best buds. the Younger dog and the Older dog, getting in trouble together, side by side, aw. I wish I could have Kate write down all their escapades. Suffice it to say, they both got in trouble, they both slept well at the end of the day after chasing constantly in the yard outside, and fighting underfoot inside. Kate says she misses Sonny but is grateful for the quiet again.

In the meantime, Dolly and Maci stayed at my house with Michiko keeping tabs on them. They stayed over at her house most of the time, until her daughter's dog came over to stay for a few days. Dolly and Maci both look fat and happy, their coats are shiny, and Michiko told me, go on another trip, go away, so they can stay over again. Have I ever told you that Michiko is my angel?

It's good to be home, even if they are predicting sleet with the rain this afternoon, and upwards of 6" of snow tomorrow.

That's what I keep telling myself anyhow, it's good to be home....

On the couch

2008-02-21T09:30:00.002-06:00

Last night as I was at home, relaxing watching t.v. Sonny the dog was pestering me to throw and fetch with him, down the long hallway in my house. But I don't want to because I want to read my magazine and half pay attention to American Idol on t.v. (I read the magazine at the parts where the contestants make me feel embarassed for them). Sonny paces the house a little, re-arranging his babies on the floor,harrumphing that I won't play, the bunny by the front door goes to the kennel in the doggie room, and the pull toy from the dining room relocates to in front of the t.v. Then, peace settles over the living room. Dolly is snoring on her blankie,oblivious, and Sonny is next to me on the floor by my chair, finally settled. I am reading my magazine and glancing at t.v., but it's so quiet I decide to check around for Sonny, first to my left to the blankie spot in the corner, no Sonny, then to my right, at the couch, and whoa! Who is over there stretched out, preening and feeling comfy but my dear Sonny! He looks at me with a look that says, would you mind fetching me a snack? I just got comfortable here.

Oh, I suspected this was going to happen, lately when I am sitting on the couch he puts his front legs up on the cushion next to me and stands up tall, his hind leg sort of hitch hitch hitching like it is itching to step up to the couch, not quite taking that final step up, and the other hind leg stays on the floor. I knew it was coming, couch sitting like his people. He sits up in the back seat of the car like a person, the couch was the logical next step.

I think the dear boy is feeling right at home these days, don't you?

President's Day

2008-02-18T09:02:00.005-06:00

In case you don't know, I work for a large construction company. I move from jobsite to jobsite as a project assistant (secretary). It's great, I totally love what I do. But sometimes I don't like my bathroom accomodations. I don't mind portapotties, unless it's a million degrees above or below zero. And I don't mind having to walk a ways to get there. But, here at the Lindbergh High School job trailer, we use the faculty bathrooms in the Alumni Building, across the hall from their main office. Today there is no school because of President's Day, which is nice, no kids and their cars and the saggy pants boys where you can see their underpants, (which is embarassing for me, what happened to the days where you were mortified if somebody saw your underpants??) but every single door is locked at the school! I can't get in! The lights are off! Nobody is around! Darrell usually keeps a key to the Gym 3 building door in his top left drawer, but I can't find it! He's not here yet this morning and won't answer his phone. I had no choice, I left the trailer and locked it up, got in my car and drove down to Schnucks, but I couldn't find their restroom! Across the street was a Burger King, so I drove over there to use their restroom. When I walked into the building it was sunny, cloudy skies, you could see there was a storm coming in from the west so I thought I better hurry. When I walked out of Burger King, I wasn't in there very long, snow was blowing sideways, visibility was low, the wind was high and the temperature had drastically dropped. If this luck keeps up I am going to have to take off on President's Day for the rest of the day! In the meantime, I think I am done drinking coffee for the day..........

Coming Soon...

2008-02-13T20:31:00.006-06:00

"Everybody Knows I Am A Good Cook But I Am Going to Die From The Burns"

"Babies"

"THE PRIEST"

"Kevin"

"Black Hawk Down"

Though not necessarily in this order.

as you were.

Accident Number Two - Literally, and figuratively

2008-02-13T19:36:00.004-06:00

Tonight was another milestone.

After teaching my aerobics class, I went to WalMart to get some stuff to make banana breads for Valentine's Day (is that traditional? ANSWER: yes, if you have black bananas on your countertop on Feb 13th). While I was at WalMart, I of course cruised the dog squeak toy aisle, squeak toys will henceforth be known as 'babies' (this will be another topic soon). On Aisle number Dog food (they don't really have numbered aisles at my Walmart), I found a delightful bunny baby with a squeaker in its tummy who wanted to come home with me. $3.97 by the way, cheaper than Petco.

Upon arrival home I decided to gift the new baby to Dolly instead of Sonny, poor thing Dolly has been SOOO neglected (read that: I guilted myself that I have given all the new babies to Sonny and all she got was that lousy t-shirt). She was delighted to be presented with it and wagged her tail appreciatively for about 4 minutes until I gave her a rawhide chewy and she was even happier and that baby was a thing of the past. I had chased Sonny off her baby for those 4 minutes and he was miffed, those things are mine he must be thinking. At the same time Doll got her chewy I also gave one to Sonny. As soon as Son realized that the baby was open and Dolly was otherwise occupied, his own chewy was fogotten and he scarfed the new baby to his lair, where I find him.

He is in heaven, he has the bunny baby in his kennel and he is in LOVE! I brought him his chewy to finish off while he is preening the new conquest, and he is in heaven twofold.

I proceed to preparing newly traditional banana breads, muffins and mini-muffins for Friends and Lovers.

Some minutes go by and I have to go to the living room to check on what's on t.v. Here is where I discover, that previous to himself attaining the baby trophy, he was mighty p-o'd that Dolly got the baby first and he did not, and he let me know it.... in two different spots.

PEE-YU-EE. Some time between Dolly getting the baby and not him, and me turning my back to make banana bread, Sonny has pooped in the living room and his displeasure is rare, apparent, odiferous and malodious. (I know,TMI, but that's the story, and if you want to know WHY I knew it was him and not Dolly, email me for the answer, : lscholz@mccarthy.com) (hint: the answer is not pretty). He has been scolded and turned out into the backyard and right now he is in his kennel timing himself out, he knows what he did, you can see 'MY BAD' in his eyes...

My bets are that he will never do it again , please reference 'Appropriately Repentant' and 'Bad Decision', he just plain does not want you to be mad at him. Ever.

I have just come from the kitchen after debatching the first batch of mini muffins, I heard his click click toes follow me in, looking for forgiveness. I tell him, I expect you to have accidents, you're only a puppy, but yo-yo Mister, don't let it happen again. He recieves his piece of muffin top and says three Hail Mary's.

He is forgiven.

My name is no-no bad dog, what's yours?

Stone Dogs

2008-02-13T08:06:00.005-06:00

I have two concrete dogs in front of my carport, under the mailbox, at the edge of the driveway. I obtained them from the lady that lived across the street, in the house where my friends, Jim and Michiko, live now. When the old neighbor lady’s grown children were clearing out her house and moving her to the Assisted Living Place, I saw them out there, trying to move this big concrete dog to the curb for trash day, on a rickety ancient wheeled plant stand. They asked if I wanted it and I said I would take it, so they wheeled him over to my house, I think we looked like the little rascals all grown up pushing that heavy statue across the street on that old wheeled plant stand. This dog is about thigh high on me, what is that? 2 foot? 3 foot? And he is painted like a dalmation dog, with a red collar. There is a smaller, more portable concrete puppy who went with him, who still has a stake and wire around it’s neck, protection against plundering yard ornament thievesI think, or, trick or treaters. I have been meaning to paint the big one black, after Dolly, but mostly I’ve put that off indefinitely, partly because I never got around to it, and partly because I think I like it as a spotted dog. The little one is also spotted, and harder to dress…

Yes, I dress these dogs, like some people dress gooses on their front porches. It started with a simple child sized santa hat two Christmases ago, for the big one, and an old stocking cap ripped from a Christmas Styrofoam ball snowman ornament, for the little dog, he also had the snowman’s scarf. With green and red mardi gras beads, for the season. At Easter, of course, conventional bunny ears headband. Then, at summer, there was a dew rag and cool shades. I tried a baseball cap, but it was too big and you couldn’t see his shades under the brim. For Halloween he wore a witch hat headband with black yarn hair, and a black mask. Thanksgiving had me making him a pilgrim hat from some foamy black craft stuff that I have had in my craft drawer for no less than 8 years, and the little doggie had an orange Indian feather on a piece of elastic around his head. I don’t know what happened to it, but one day shortly after I made the pilgrim hat, it was gone. I wondered, did the wind take it? It was nowhere around in the yard. Then I decided, that it was the high school kids who catch the school bus in front of my house, one of them has been wearing a homemade pilgrim hat to school. As of Now these dogs are sporting a vast array of mardis gras beads around their necks. I wanted to drape them in purple fabric, like they do to the statues in church during Lent, but I’m afraid some people won’t get it (Like why does she have purple ghosts in her yard??), (and, do they even shroud the statues in church during Lent anymore?) and the people that do get it might be offended. Also, THE PRIEST lives right down the hill from my house, and he drives past me to get to church, and I imagine of course he's a hellbent Catholic, I'd hate for him to come knocking on my door admonishing my sacrilege, and also, FYI side note, he talks way too long at sermons. I digress. I couldn’t think of anything else for the dogs to wear during Lent so they still have their beads, but I am really looking forward to fashioning some Easter Bonnets .....

Stone Dogs.

The Meeting - third installment from 1/26/08

2008-02-12T08:06:00.000-06:00

Tucker and Sonny met yesterday afternoon in my backyard. AT first they both had their hackles up, but it didn't take long before they MUTUALLY decided hey, he's not such a bad guy, and they commenced to running and jumping and posturing and acting like a couple of tough males, at one point they were so into their play that I couldn't get their attention to get them into the house! This morning the same thing, a room full of rough housers, and this will surprise you,at one point Dolly was right in the thick of it and doing a little humping of her own, after all, she must figure, she's the matriarch, getting those two in line or sending them to time out, she was putting her two cents in. Tucker is a pacer, he is right now patrolling the perimeter, checking out the windows for marauding squirrels. Sonny is calmly grooming himself on the blanket next to his crate, and Dolly is at my feet as usual, keeping me safe.
This is exactly what I wanted.

Rich's story about the First Sonny he ever knew

2008-02-12T08:04:00.000-06:00

The original story was titled:
you guys will appreciate this.

(By Rich Donahower)

Reminds me of a dog I knew in Oak Creek Colorado...Sonny...A big handsome Irish Setter. Very smart, and cool as the underside of a pillow.
Sara and Dale, friends next door in the apartment building I lived in, cooked a big turkey for Thanksgiving and had it on the table cooling a bit while we all walked down to the market to get a bottle of wine to enjoy with dinner. Sonny was all 'jumpingupanddown' excited to go for a walk. Dale, Sara, Sonny and I all got about halfway there - a few blocks - when I noticed that Sonny, who had been prancing along with us , was not with us. We all stopped and looked around, but he was not to be found. We all then looked into each others eyes and simultaneously said "THE TURKEY!" and started running back to the apartments. We found Sonny there in the kitchen sitting up tall with his chest puffed out, acting like he was everything and ignoring the turkey on the floor, already about half gone. It was like he planned the whole thing. He knew how to open the screen door, he knew where 'going for a walk' was, and he knew how much time he would have alone with his turkey. I loved that dog.

Appropriately Repentant - the 2nd story

2008-02-11T11:04:00.001-06:00

Well, mostly it’s my fault. I THOUGHT the kennel door was latched when we went to bed last night.

The destruction was not bad this time, a soggy slimy shoe, the right foot shoe (Rocket Dog brand, how appropriate), sofa pillows re-arranged, a tennis shoe on the couch under the pillows, the other one still on the floor where I left it, a paper grocery bag in front of the front door, nail buffer chewed again, he was sharpening his teeth perhaps, mainly just small mayhem (I now keep the doggie treats UP and out of reach). But the real thing was that when I opened my bedroom door and he came flying in and I realized he has been free all night, I thought, uh-oh, this is going to be bad, I better rest with my snooze alarm before I go see. He spends a good 60 seconds jumping, hopping, nipping and licking at me as I lay in bed, and then he goes into the hallway. I see his tail in the mirror on my bedroom door, just his tail, it stays there, it stays there, it stays there, I call him, Come Sonny, it stays there, (this is like just seconds in time) I get up to see what the heck is he doing? Well, what he’s doing is lifting his leg and peeing on the wall in the hallway! No no no no bad dog! I scurry him out the door, into the back yard, bad dogging him the entire way.

The good thing is that for his first ever bad potty in the house I caught him in the act, and he’s a pretty smart guy, I’m pretty sure he got the idea what he was doing was not a behavior to repeat. He spent the rest of the morning on his blankie in his kennel with his ears down and looking - appropriately repentant.

Bad Decision - the first installment

2008-02-11T11:01:00.000-06:00

Well, Sonny has been pretty good, this is what I think to myself before I go to bed last night, I think I will just put him in the doggie room with Dolly overnight, not in his crate, and see how he does…. Bad decision.

1) Hurricane
2) Tornado
3) Cyclone
4) Tsunami
5) gale
6) tempest
7) typhoon
8) whirlwind
9) twister

These words describe the way the doggie room looked as I found it this morning at 3:45 a.m. awakened by two dogs rassling and having a high old time. Big mistake leaving the 2 full open boxes of Skippy Treats and Alpo Snaps on top of the tv stand that I use to hold the misc dog things, the boxes were not only empty of all cookies, not a crumb in sight, but chewed to shreds to boot. I’m sure that Dolly had a snack or two as well, she probably thinks now that he is the best friend ever, he delivers midnight snacks!!! I keep the small dog cookies in the Cookie Monster Cookie Jar on top of the stand, Cookie Monster’s head was turned backwards like an owl, but those cookies were safe and Cookie Monster was the only thing left on the stand. Sonny took every brown paper bag out of the bin and they were strewn everywhere, he took all the dog ear cleaners and other misc bottles of dog things out of the basket that was on the middle shelf of the old t.v. stand. At least the doors to the stand were shut and he couldn’t get to the two boxes of BIG dog cookies that were underneath. The waste basket under the computer? Empty. All those old bill envelopes chewed to shreds, chew marks on the empty printer ink cartridges, phew on that one, that could have been a real mess. The braid rug and dog blanket /comforter were in a heap in the middle of the room, and on top of that was the dog food mat and the empty ceramic water bowl, that bowl is HEAVY! hence you have the tsunami, water all over the floor. In his crate are an empty gift bag with a hole chewed in the bottom, along with his baby squeak toy and his Kong. Shreds of boxes and papers are everywhere, inside and out of his crate. I didn’t look at the furniture to see if he chewed on that, I didn’t even think to check that, it’s just dawning on me now, surely he didn’t have time to do that too? Now I have to go home and check closer…. Clearly the doggie room was not puppy proofed.

And then, as I was getting ready for work after cleaning all that up, I knew I needed to keep checking on him, but the only thing he did after all that was to take the end of the roll of toilet paper in the hall bath and walk it into the living room, probably a line of 8-10 feet of toilet paper, the first square chewed to shreds. Thankfully he toned down his grand finale.

Unmistakably, Sonny is not ready to be left unsupervised.

What a bad decision.

The first one

2008-02-11T10:31:00.000-06:00

This blog is my first attempt at online journaling, I hope it is as interesting as Kate's and Kris's. I want to be just like them when I grow up.

There have been so many cute stories to tell about my new dog, Sonny, I can't not want to share them!

And things are turning around for me these days, after a very long time of feeling out of control, things are coming back to me and at last life is really really GREAT!!!

Ok, here goes, will it work? Publish post going .....NOW!