The latest LAP-ra-dor, to land in this Iowa Girl's lap is Black Dog, aka Sweet Sadie. She came on Halloween and in two short months has had quite the adventure. What we know about Black Dog's before story is this: her human died shortly before our Molly died. Molly met Black Dog's owner in heaven and arranged to have Black Dog meet us. The rest is history.
Black Dog clearly was well loved but had fallen in to some disrepair. She had tape worms, ear infections and fleas. We treated and changed her food. Her coat grew shiny and she grew stronger.
On week number three, we began our first road trip to this Iowa Girl's home state of Florida. My parent's home is a home for LAP-ra-dors. My parents participate in a diverstiy program and there are represented at the Florida home a yellow, a chocolate and a black lab. So upon our arrival, the dogs now out numbered the humans (as it should be). During the Thanksgiving grace, my Dad gave thanks for the National Convention of Retrievers and the dogs all wagged their tails in appreciation.
Black Dog was a most excellent car rider and slept quietly next to Vegas during the trip to and from Florida. She did not embrace sweeeming as most labs do but she enjoyed circling the pool with abandon.
Black Dog has attached herself to all in the house but has a special twinkle in her eye for the other human with whom Vegas and I share a roof and a water bowl. On one weekend when said human traveled west to be with family, Sadie and I had some time to bond together. Apparently, while she was in Florida, her cousin "Black Bart" taught her some stealth Black Lab moves. Lulled into a false sense of security by her timid ways and big brown eyes, I had placed a bowl of dark chocolate in a Christmas bowl. Sadie ate said chocolate. While I was turning out the lights in the house, on our way to bed, I found the empty bown on the floor with not a trace of chocolate to be found. I had confidence that Vegas was not involved in the heist because she couldn't reach the bowl.
I called the animal hospital. "My dog ate some chocolate" I explained. They said, "What kind of dog? How big? What kind of chocolate?" I answered mechanically and they responded, "Yes she should come in". So I piled the girls into the car and off we went to the animal hospital.
They know me there.
They immediately took Sadie in back and began treating her, making her vomit her little heist. Vegas and I sat patiently in the lobby, greeting other parents and dogs. The phone rang and the receptionist answered, pulled out a cardboard wheel and began to spin it while asking the questions, "What kind of dog? How big? What kind of chocolate?" When she hung up the phone, I asked if that was a Chocolate Wheel? Yes it was. Sadie was the third chocolate event of the day and number four was on its way in to the hospital.
I explained to Sadie that a trip to the animal hospital was an extreme form of bonding. Gratefully, Sadie suffered no permanent damage from my poor judgement.
Moral of the story: Do not be seduced by big brown eyes and a sweet smile, even if they come from a dog.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Winter Wonderland
Sweet time with family and friends in a green, wet place known as Oregon. The Iowa Dogs are back in Iowa enjoying a winter wonderland. A very sweet human type is staying at the house attending to their every need.
Note: Vegas recently emailed me to let me know she is VERY worried about the human providing care in Iowa. The human built a temporary shelter for a CAT that was suffering in the cold and snow. I responded that all animals need a warm place to land and that said human was a Rescuer, just like Vegas. Vegas was concerned that I had been drinking too much eggnog and did I not hear her say CAT?
Update on Black Dog aka Sadie: Sadie arrived with tape worms and ear infections and an unquenchable thirst to love and cuddle us. She is a non alpha like Vegas. After two months, they are beginning to play with each other as Vegas is coming to terms with the fact that Black Dog might be here to stay. When chasing down a tennis ball with Vegas, I imagine them saying,
"You take the ball"
"No, no you take it, I couldn't"
"No really - you have it".
As a result, most tennis balls are thrown and not retrieved.
She has very good manners and will sit and stay and sometimes shake a paw. She prefers laps to blankets and sofas to floors, like most good dogs. She goes crazy for car rides and dog walks. When she sits and looks up at you with her big brown eyes, her tail wags from the middle of the tail to the tip, like the Disney dogs on Pirates of the Caribbean ride.
At Christmas Eve services in a small quaint church in Oregon, the pastor invited us to come up and light a candle for people who we lost this year or who we were missing this Christmas. I thought that was such a wonderful blessing - to acknowledge the love and light of the people who were not with us. I stood up and walked to the front of the church and waited to put a candle in the little box of sand. When I got to the front, I lit two candles and said a prayer of thanks for my dear friend Harold and for my beautiful blond dog, Molly. I knew God would honor the candle I placed for my dog, amongst the candles for the people because God spelled backwards is dog which is proof positive that God is a dog God.
Molly stayed with me for that entire service and when I went to kneel at the front of the church to thank God for baby Jesus, both Molly and my brother Scott joined me, one on each side. It was a beautiful Christmas moment of love I will never forget.
Note: Vegas recently emailed me to let me know she is VERY worried about the human providing care in Iowa. The human built a temporary shelter for a CAT that was suffering in the cold and snow. I responded that all animals need a warm place to land and that said human was a Rescuer, just like Vegas. Vegas was concerned that I had been drinking too much eggnog and did I not hear her say CAT?
Update on Black Dog aka Sadie: Sadie arrived with tape worms and ear infections and an unquenchable thirst to love and cuddle us. She is a non alpha like Vegas. After two months, they are beginning to play with each other as Vegas is coming to terms with the fact that Black Dog might be here to stay. When chasing down a tennis ball with Vegas, I imagine them saying,
"You take the ball"
"No, no you take it, I couldn't"
"No really - you have it".
As a result, most tennis balls are thrown and not retrieved.
She has very good manners and will sit and stay and sometimes shake a paw. She prefers laps to blankets and sofas to floors, like most good dogs. She goes crazy for car rides and dog walks. When she sits and looks up at you with her big brown eyes, her tail wags from the middle of the tail to the tip, like the Disney dogs on Pirates of the Caribbean ride.
At Christmas Eve services in a small quaint church in Oregon, the pastor invited us to come up and light a candle for people who we lost this year or who we were missing this Christmas. I thought that was such a wonderful blessing - to acknowledge the love and light of the people who were not with us. I stood up and walked to the front of the church and waited to put a candle in the little box of sand. When I got to the front, I lit two candles and said a prayer of thanks for my dear friend Harold and for my beautiful blond dog, Molly. I knew God would honor the candle I placed for my dog, amongst the candles for the people because God spelled backwards is dog which is proof positive that God is a dog God.
Molly stayed with me for that entire service and when I went to kneel at the front of the church to thank God for baby Jesus, both Molly and my brother Scott joined me, one on each side. It was a beautiful Christmas moment of love I will never forget.
Monday, November 1, 2010
The Halloween Treat
A little story about happenstance and coincidence. Last Friday I was picking up Vegas at school (doggie day care aka the spa). Picking up Vegas is not unlike waiting for an elevator to open. The humans stand and smile at the door, smile cordially at each, and wait patiently for our four legged friends to bound through the door and claim us.
On the door was a little poster with a picture of our Molly and a little memorial message about her. It had hung on the door all week and made me smile. As I waited patiently for Vegas to come through the door another woman waiting for her dog said, "Are you Molly's Mom?" (we are both blond after all).
"Yes I am" I said holding my breath not wanting to cry.
"I am so, so sorry. Molly was a rescue wasn't she? She came from our group." Out bounded Vegas and this woman used her high squeaky voice that just made Vegas fall in love with her and vice versa. As the woman, Gretchen, and I walked out to our respective cars she said, "You know, there's an 8 year old lab coming to me Sunday to be fostered. The dog's owner recently passed away." (Note to self: Do Not Talk to Strangers).
We mulled it over the weekend and went to visit the black lab, Sadie, last night. Vegas and Sadie greeted each other without incident and proceeded on a long walk with us. They liked each other immediately. We left without talking Sadie with us. We needed time to heal, time to think it over.
It took 20 minutes.
Sadie the black Lab joined us on Halloween night, 2010.
Sadie is small for a Lab, about the size of our Vegas, but thinner (for now). She is very sweet and would like to be under your hand and being touched whenever possible. She loves walks. So far she doesn't seem so interested in stuffed toys but likes to chase balls. She doesn't do anything except chase them. She likes to cuddle. She is somewhat tentative and curious. She has been to the vet and has allergies to something and ear infections. I think she's in a wait and see mode.
I know we did this not because we were ready for another dog but because Sadie needed us. Well, that's the rationalization anyway.
I don't think it was coincidence.
On the door was a little poster with a picture of our Molly and a little memorial message about her. It had hung on the door all week and made me smile. As I waited patiently for Vegas to come through the door another woman waiting for her dog said, "Are you Molly's Mom?" (we are both blond after all).
"Yes I am" I said holding my breath not wanting to cry.
"I am so, so sorry. Molly was a rescue wasn't she? She came from our group." Out bounded Vegas and this woman used her high squeaky voice that just made Vegas fall in love with her and vice versa. As the woman, Gretchen, and I walked out to our respective cars she said, "You know, there's an 8 year old lab coming to me Sunday to be fostered. The dog's owner recently passed away." (Note to self: Do Not Talk to Strangers).
We mulled it over the weekend and went to visit the black lab, Sadie, last night. Vegas and Sadie greeted each other without incident and proceeded on a long walk with us. They liked each other immediately. We left without talking Sadie with us. We needed time to heal, time to think it over.
It took 20 minutes.
Sadie the black Lab joined us on Halloween night, 2010.
Sadie is small for a Lab, about the size of our Vegas, but thinner (for now). She is very sweet and would like to be under your hand and being touched whenever possible. She loves walks. So far she doesn't seem so interested in stuffed toys but likes to chase balls. She doesn't do anything except chase them. She likes to cuddle. She is somewhat tentative and curious. She has been to the vet and has allergies to something and ear infections. I think she's in a wait and see mode.
I know we did this not because we were ready for another dog but because Sadie needed us. Well, that's the rationalization anyway.
I don't think it was coincidence.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Miracle of Life
Tonight we walked Vegas around the block. We had become lazy about this activity since moving into our old 1926 house, complete with fenced in yard. We let Molly and Vegas entertain each other, taunt each other with the stuffed toys and tennis balls. Molly's game was always keep away. She would grab a stuffed cow and drag it over Vegas' face back and forth until Vegas relented and went after Molly and the stuffed cow. The game would last longer if one of us would egg them on. "Vegas - get it!" or "Go Molly!"
Molly was my velcro girl that would lie outside the bathroom door, nose on the front paws, waiting for me to finish my bath. I would lament that I could get no more than three feet away from that cold nose at any given moment. Tonight all I want is to be tripping over her in the kitchen. I expect to see her everywhere because everywhere is exactly where she was.
Vegas was with Molly when she died so she's aware that she's gone, on some dog level. But over the weekend Vegas would bound outside and then realizing Molly was not going to head-butt her or pounce on her, slowly laid down in the dirt. She had a lonesome look about her but perhaps that was my broken heart I was seeing.
So tonight we walked Molly's partner in crime, a Golden Retriever, named Vegas. As soon as Vegas saw the leash, she was excited. As we walked she danced in the cold, wet, fall leaves, turning over as many as possible with her big lion shaped paws. She searched vigorously near the tennis courts for wayward tennis balls. She walked tall with her tail up, swinging her hips as only Vegas can do. Vegas was happy.
We will get through this one walk at a time.
I love you Molly and I am so very grateful you chose this Iowa girl to rescue.
Molly was my velcro girl that would lie outside the bathroom door, nose on the front paws, waiting for me to finish my bath. I would lament that I could get no more than three feet away from that cold nose at any given moment. Tonight all I want is to be tripping over her in the kitchen. I expect to see her everywhere because everywhere is exactly where she was.
Vegas was with Molly when she died so she's aware that she's gone, on some dog level. But over the weekend Vegas would bound outside and then realizing Molly was not going to head-butt her or pounce on her, slowly laid down in the dirt. She had a lonesome look about her but perhaps that was my broken heart I was seeing.
So tonight we walked Molly's partner in crime, a Golden Retriever, named Vegas. As soon as Vegas saw the leash, she was excited. As we walked she danced in the cold, wet, fall leaves, turning over as many as possible with her big lion shaped paws. She searched vigorously near the tennis courts for wayward tennis balls. She walked tall with her tail up, swinging her hips as only Vegas can do. Vegas was happy.
We will get through this one walk at a time.
I love you Molly and I am so very grateful you chose this Iowa girl to rescue.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sweet Molly & The Rainbow Bridge
I find that my world has come to a screeching halt. Our beloved Molly fell ill last week to what we now know was a spinal cord tumor. Her deterioration was swift and today we said good-bye to such a wonderful girl.
She gave much more than she took, as is the way with most rescues. I wish with all my heart that my velcro girl could be following me around, eating the bird seed, pouncing and taunting her sister Vegas.
When I find my words, I'll write more.
She gave much more than she took, as is the way with most rescues. I wish with all my heart that my velcro girl could be following me around, eating the bird seed, pouncing and taunting her sister Vegas.
When I find my words, I'll write more.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Someone's Little Girl
Vegas & Molly are back in Iowa and I am visiting family in Florida, my hometown. There is a palm tree outside of the window and a tropical depression begin to rumble through. I love spending time with my parents and brother. My heart swells to three times its normal size, just like in the book “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Last night we sat around the table with my cousin and his lovely wife eating what we normally eat on Christmas Eve – conch chowder. Cuban bread, homemade cookies, laughing and I just felt warm all over.
Black Bart, Sammy and Becky all live here with the humans. Bart (real name Bear) looks like a bear. Becky, also a rescue, furrows her brows and looks very worried. She would wear glasses if dogs wore glasses. Sammy is a chocolate lab and like most chocolate labs is sweet as the day is long but isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box. In this way, he is like his cousin Vegas. We have had two sweeeeming sessions and lots of treats. I, being the doting Aunt, like to hand out kibbles and treats all day long so as to bribe my way into the heart. Or stomach as it goes.
I’m a nester by nature and am happiest closest to the hearth. I’m going through cookbooks and catalogs with my Mom. She is going to cook a prime rib on Sunday because I won’t be here on Christmas to enjoy it and she knows it is one of my favorites.
I spend my days in Iowa attempting to be a responsible Golden Retriever, paying a mortgage, playing nice and not biting anyone.
But some days, it is ever so sweet to be someone’s little girl again.
Black Bart, Sammy and Becky all live here with the humans. Bart (real name Bear) looks like a bear. Becky, also a rescue, furrows her brows and looks very worried. She would wear glasses if dogs wore glasses. Sammy is a chocolate lab and like most chocolate labs is sweet as the day is long but isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box. In this way, he is like his cousin Vegas. We have had two sweeeeming sessions and lots of treats. I, being the doting Aunt, like to hand out kibbles and treats all day long so as to bribe my way into the heart. Or stomach as it goes.
I’m a nester by nature and am happiest closest to the hearth. I’m going through cookbooks and catalogs with my Mom. She is going to cook a prime rib on Sunday because I won’t be here on Christmas to enjoy it and she knows it is one of my favorites.
I spend my days in Iowa attempting to be a responsible Golden Retriever, paying a mortgage, playing nice and not biting anyone.
But some days, it is ever so sweet to be someone’s little girl again.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Peaceful
I loved the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. I can see vividly the wagons and the paths they carved as they rolled across the prairie. Some ruts can be cozy and comforting.
Don't get me wrong, I am always up for the unexpected car ride or walk in the park but for the most part, I find comfort in little day to day patterns, the assurance that Molly will wake me up with a gentle lick and Vegas will gently roll her head into my thighs for the morning ear rub.
I find the quiet moments of life often the most rewarding. There is a new bird bath that is fairly overflowing from all the recent rain. There are six bird feeders, one suet feeder and one bird bath in our small yard. Bird feeders may seem like a cruel joke to someone with two bird dogs but birds and dogs seem to live in peace for the most part.
Tonight I will sit on the back step of my little red brick patio and watch the sparrows and cardinals delight with the fruit and nut feed. Vegas will roll in the dirt and wait for Lily the cat. Molly will eat the bird seed that falls to the ground. We will be content and at peace.
Tonight I hope your peaceful place finds you.
Don't get me wrong, I am always up for the unexpected car ride or walk in the park but for the most part, I find comfort in little day to day patterns, the assurance that Molly will wake me up with a gentle lick and Vegas will gently roll her head into my thighs for the morning ear rub.
I find the quiet moments of life often the most rewarding. There is a new bird bath that is fairly overflowing from all the recent rain. There are six bird feeders, one suet feeder and one bird bath in our small yard. Bird feeders may seem like a cruel joke to someone with two bird dogs but birds and dogs seem to live in peace for the most part.
Tonight I will sit on the back step of my little red brick patio and watch the sparrows and cardinals delight with the fruit and nut feed. Vegas will roll in the dirt and wait for Lily the cat. Molly will eat the bird seed that falls to the ground. We will be content and at peace.
Tonight I hope your peaceful place finds you.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Old Blue Sofa
Today we say good-bye to my parent's old blue sofa.
My parents old blue sofa isn't blue anymore. It isn't actually my parent's either - it lives with me in Iowa now. The sofa has been part of our family longer than I have been alive. Vegas and Molly sleep on it and watch for us on it.
It is a great napping couch - the kind that envelopes you because the springs and cushions are worn. I remember sitting on it with my Grandpa when he read me bed time stories. I had to sit very still and act more like a little girl than a Golden Retriever (which was not easy). Vegas is not the only girl that knows how to do the Squirmy Worm. My brothers and I used to sit on the couch on Christmas morning while Dad sat under the Christmas tree handing out presents in his bright yellow robe reminding us to save the tags (for writing thank you notes).
I have t-shirts from runs that I did fifteen years ago and I know exactly where I was when I did the run and who was waiting for me at the finish line. I have dishes that belonged to my grandmother and I use every one of them. Nini's kitchen smelled like oranges, fresh brewed coffees and gardenias (from her garden in Florida). There are dish towels and jelly jars, spoons and crocks that keep my mother with me in my kitchen. I open my pantry and see jar of chili sauce we canned together last year as she told me about her grandmother.
I am always afraid that if I let the stuff go, then I will lose the memory or the person attached to the memory.
My blessing is much bigger than the old blue sofa. I will keep the memories and love because at the end of the day that's what it is all about - love. A family that filled me with memories of love, and joy and fun; A family that loved me so much they made me a Golden Retriever.
My parents old blue sofa isn't blue anymore. It isn't actually my parent's either - it lives with me in Iowa now. The sofa has been part of our family longer than I have been alive. Vegas and Molly sleep on it and watch for us on it.
It is a great napping couch - the kind that envelopes you because the springs and cushions are worn. I remember sitting on it with my Grandpa when he read me bed time stories. I had to sit very still and act more like a little girl than a Golden Retriever (which was not easy). Vegas is not the only girl that knows how to do the Squirmy Worm. My brothers and I used to sit on the couch on Christmas morning while Dad sat under the Christmas tree handing out presents in his bright yellow robe reminding us to save the tags (for writing thank you notes).
I have t-shirts from runs that I did fifteen years ago and I know exactly where I was when I did the run and who was waiting for me at the finish line. I have dishes that belonged to my grandmother and I use every one of them. Nini's kitchen smelled like oranges, fresh brewed coffees and gardenias (from her garden in Florida). There are dish towels and jelly jars, spoons and crocks that keep my mother with me in my kitchen. I open my pantry and see jar of chili sauce we canned together last year as she told me about her grandmother.
I am always afraid that if I let the stuff go, then I will lose the memory or the person attached to the memory.
My blessing is much bigger than the old blue sofa. I will keep the memories and love because at the end of the day that's what it is all about - love. A family that filled me with memories of love, and joy and fun; A family that loved me so much they made me a Golden Retriever.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Sights Unseen
Vegas has a passport, of sorts. It resides folded within my own and provided proof to the officials in Niagara Falls that Vegas was in fact an American dog and up to date on all her vaccinations. I have no criminal past, nor does Vegas but I have never passed through customs without assuming that I was going to get in trouble and be thrown in jail. Vegas has never acted guilty of anything, even when she was.
Vegas loved the Falls. She took her big lion shaped paws and placed them on the cement wall, lifted herself up to look at the water falling down (see above) and looked upon the loud blue water with the same delight as the rest of us two legged tourists. Her picture above is of her staring at the Falls.
Fall has no longer teased us with its appearance but has arrived in all earnest. The humidity is gone, the screen doors are letting the warm breezes through and the leaves are starting to change colors and twirl off the trees. The weather we are having now is what this Iowa girl used to call winter when she lived in Fort Lauderdale. It is glorious.
Vegas and I can't stop smiling. We love having family visit. We love watching the birds at the feeder and the feel of the change of season. We love looking at the old pictures and remembering the trip to Buffalo. We cleaned the kitchen window and the sun is shining through and lighting the wood floor.
All is well.
Vegas loved the Falls. She took her big lion shaped paws and placed them on the cement wall, lifted herself up to look at the water falling down (see above) and looked upon the loud blue water with the same delight as the rest of us two legged tourists. Her picture above is of her staring at the Falls.
Fall has no longer teased us with its appearance but has arrived in all earnest. The humidity is gone, the screen doors are letting the warm breezes through and the leaves are starting to change colors and twirl off the trees. The weather we are having now is what this Iowa girl used to call winter when she lived in Fort Lauderdale. It is glorious.
Vegas and I can't stop smiling. We love having family visit. We love watching the birds at the feeder and the feel of the change of season. We love looking at the old pictures and remembering the trip to Buffalo. We cleaned the kitchen window and the sun is shining through and lighting the wood floor.
All is well.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Basset Hound Days
Most days my approach to life is entirely similar to Vegas. "Oh my gosh!!! Is that you??? I am so glad to see you!!! I have missed you sooooooo much!!" (Vegas to a complete stranger). We rejoice in dawdling, discovering a leaf in a basket of leaves, having a gentle hand pat our head (not kidding here). The cooler autumn winds are pushing the leaves about in the trees and the Wind is talking up a storm through the branches. The cardinals seem just a little hungrier than normal.
But yesterday was not a Golden Retriever day. On these sad days, I am channeling the Basset Hound - sad, sad, sad. Are Basset's ever happy? My Auntie Vera had one named Huckleberry which inspite of the happy name did not make it a happy looking dog. They are the Eeyore of the dog world. "Oh Bother.." A good cry is sometimes all it takes to get us to the next step.
Let us embrace these basset hound feelings and know that they are just a symptom of a world gone mad.
But yesterday was not a Golden Retriever day. On these sad days, I am channeling the Basset Hound - sad, sad, sad. Are Basset's ever happy? My Auntie Vera had one named Huckleberry which inspite of the happy name did not make it a happy looking dog. They are the Eeyore of the dog world. "Oh Bother.." A good cry is sometimes all it takes to get us to the next step.
Let us embrace these basset hound feelings and know that they are just a symptom of a world gone mad.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Love in a Pack
I woke up an hour early in anticipation of an alarm that was going off two hours earlier than it has been going off (back to the gym after a three week hiatus). I hate when that happens! I tossed about, planning the day in my head which never lends itself to going back to sleep. And then I looked over at Vegas & Molly.
Molly was asleep in the crook of my arm, exhausted from Sunday's Big Swim Day. Vegas was asleep, next to Molly, kicking like no one's business, clearly resolving subconcious issues of tennis balls left behind. The two of them were side by side, back to back, heart to heart.
I realized in that moment that they have not only rescued me, they have rescued each other. When they first came together they shared space and a benign tolerance of each other. Vegas had a wait and see attitude and Molly was fearful and unsure. I'm not sure how it happened, but a pack was born.
It's better in a pack.
Molly was asleep in the crook of my arm, exhausted from Sunday's Big Swim Day. Vegas was asleep, next to Molly, kicking like no one's business, clearly resolving subconcious issues of tennis balls left behind. The two of them were side by side, back to back, heart to heart.
I realized in that moment that they have not only rescued me, they have rescued each other. When they first came together they shared space and a benign tolerance of each other. Vegas had a wait and see attitude and Molly was fearful and unsure. I'm not sure how it happened, but a pack was born.
It's better in a pack.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Closing Balls of Summer
When I saw the Chrysanthemums at the grocery store I was a little sad. They are a sign that our sweet Midwest summer is coming to an end. My friends who still go to school are now back in school. I miss going to school - the new outfit for the first day; the rubber smell of the new tennis shoes; the new book bag.
With the closing of summer comes the closing of the city pools. When the city pool in town closes, on its last open weekend, it gives itself up to the dogs - literally. For a small fee and proof of vaccinations, the dogs run and swim with complete freedom.
It is one of my most favorite days. The pool is full of tennis balls, scores and scores of them. Our Molly and Vegas chased the balls, swam in the deep end and never stopped smiling. I threw a tennis ball for Vegas and the black labrador went after it. No worries - Vegas gets the one belonging to the cream colored Golden Retriever puppy. All the puppies are friends.
The dogs this evening are curled up in their spots. Molly's soft ears are getting a rub down as her tired head leans in to the soft, yellow blanket. She lets out that dog groan that signifies complete satisfaction.
Vegas is curled up behind the chair, on the floor, in one of her caves. I can hear her legs kicking the wall as she dreams of the hundreds of yellow tennis balls.
A warm, cozy blanket and dreams coming true - what a great day. I hope your tomorrow is as good as our today.
With the closing of summer comes the closing of the city pools. When the city pool in town closes, on its last open weekend, it gives itself up to the dogs - literally. For a small fee and proof of vaccinations, the dogs run and swim with complete freedom.
It is one of my most favorite days. The pool is full of tennis balls, scores and scores of them. Our Molly and Vegas chased the balls, swam in the deep end and never stopped smiling. I threw a tennis ball for Vegas and the black labrador went after it. No worries - Vegas gets the one belonging to the cream colored Golden Retriever puppy. All the puppies are friends.
The dogs this evening are curled up in their spots. Molly's soft ears are getting a rub down as her tired head leans in to the soft, yellow blanket. She lets out that dog groan that signifies complete satisfaction.
Vegas is curled up behind the chair, on the floor, in one of her caves. I can hear her legs kicking the wall as she dreams of the hundreds of yellow tennis balls.
A warm, cozy blanket and dreams coming true - what a great day. I hope your tomorrow is as good as our today.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Good Dog
Have you seen the movie "Up" yet? It is a great Pixar movie that works on so many levels. I love, love, love this movie. In the movie is a dog, named Doug, who is more Golden Retriever than anything else. At one point his would-be master turns to him and says, "Bad Dog!" and Doug slinks away, tail between his legs.
What is interesting that in this house, our Golden Retriever does not know "Bad Dog" or "No". Whenever either of those expressions have been used, you might as well be saying, "You want a treat?" or "Go for a ride?" because they are received with enthusiasm, dog wags and general joy. Therefore, I'm sure Vegas has no self esteem issues and like Mary Poppins, believes herself to be practically perfect in every way.
Molly on the other hand learned "Bad Dog" somewhere in her distant past and will tuck her tail, roll her ears back and look like she's done something really heinous. Someone convinced her that she was bad and she owns it whenever you look at her with any serious expression. Therefore, we try to only ever be positive. This can be challenging when coming home and realizing she has scarfed three dozen homemade cinnamon rolls.
I am trying to be less like Molly and more like Vegas. I am trying to ignore the small but loud inner voice that tells me I'm bad for eating the chocolate or bad for missing a deadline.
I came in tonight and Vegas looked at me from across the room, ran to her toy bucket and pulled out a much loved and used stuffed mallard toy. She brought it to me and I praised her for such a wonderful gift. She then danced up and down, spun in circles and urged me to throw the gift.
"The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." 1 Samuel, 16:7
Just like Vegas.
What is interesting that in this house, our Golden Retriever does not know "Bad Dog" or "No". Whenever either of those expressions have been used, you might as well be saying, "You want a treat?" or "Go for a ride?" because they are received with enthusiasm, dog wags and general joy. Therefore, I'm sure Vegas has no self esteem issues and like Mary Poppins, believes herself to be practically perfect in every way.
Molly on the other hand learned "Bad Dog" somewhere in her distant past and will tuck her tail, roll her ears back and look like she's done something really heinous. Someone convinced her that she was bad and she owns it whenever you look at her with any serious expression. Therefore, we try to only ever be positive. This can be challenging when coming home and realizing she has scarfed three dozen homemade cinnamon rolls.
I am trying to be less like Molly and more like Vegas. I am trying to ignore the small but loud inner voice that tells me I'm bad for eating the chocolate or bad for missing a deadline.
I came in tonight and Vegas looked at me from across the room, ran to her toy bucket and pulled out a much loved and used stuffed mallard toy. She brought it to me and I praised her for such a wonderful gift. She then danced up and down, spun in circles and urged me to throw the gift.
"The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." 1 Samuel, 16:7
Just like Vegas.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Hidden Beast
Our Molly is a rescue, as you know. She is a yellow Lab from all appearances. The Vet upon first examination hypothesized that she most likely was a hunting dog because she had her dew claws removed, a BB pellet under her right eye and had been previously fixed. I say previously because she was made to go under this indignity twice.
If in fact she was a hunting dog, I understand why she was found wandering the farmland of Iowa. She will go on point (like a hunting dog, not a ballerina), she will flush out birds, and track down any small creature in our yard. However, her game is keep away, not retrieve. I imagine she was hunting with her hunting person and found something interesting and just kept running.
Yesterday I was at a dear friends and she welcomed both myself and the girls up for a pizza night with her children. I was unsure how the night would go because they have a new kitten. Molly and Vegas take great pride and pleasure from chasing cats in our backyard, protecting us from eminent harm. We arrived at the house and the young kitten was being held by one of the girls. The dogs sniffed and moved on - no big deal. They were off to smell, play, romp. We sat at the table eating pizza, big dogs and little kitten under the table, the lions and the lamb.
After dinner we played some wii. Molly began sniffing around the dining room table. I had no concern because she had laid next to the cat during dinner. All of a sudden, "woof, woof, woof" she is cornering the sweet kitten as if the kitten had revealed that in fact she was a terrorist (which will all know is true). "Woof, woof, woof!!!!" and the dining room table is rocking and the kitten is in full arched back Halloween pose as Molly channels her full Cujo inner beast.
"No!!" I say with complete authority.
"Just kidding!" Molly says as she wags her tail, puts her ears back and smiles at me. She moves on and the game is over.
She, as my Mother says, is a Dickens. Life is all the more sweeter with her in it. A smidgen scary some times, but definitely sweeter.
Dedicated to Lucy.
If in fact she was a hunting dog, I understand why she was found wandering the farmland of Iowa. She will go on point (like a hunting dog, not a ballerina), she will flush out birds, and track down any small creature in our yard. However, her game is keep away, not retrieve. I imagine she was hunting with her hunting person and found something interesting and just kept running.
Yesterday I was at a dear friends and she welcomed both myself and the girls up for a pizza night with her children. I was unsure how the night would go because they have a new kitten. Molly and Vegas take great pride and pleasure from chasing cats in our backyard, protecting us from eminent harm. We arrived at the house and the young kitten was being held by one of the girls. The dogs sniffed and moved on - no big deal. They were off to smell, play, romp. We sat at the table eating pizza, big dogs and little kitten under the table, the lions and the lamb.
After dinner we played some wii. Molly began sniffing around the dining room table. I had no concern because she had laid next to the cat during dinner. All of a sudden, "woof, woof, woof" she is cornering the sweet kitten as if the kitten had revealed that in fact she was a terrorist (which will all know is true). "Woof, woof, woof!!!!" and the dining room table is rocking and the kitten is in full arched back Halloween pose as Molly channels her full Cujo inner beast.
"No!!" I say with complete authority.
"Just kidding!" Molly says as she wags her tail, puts her ears back and smiles at me. She moves on and the game is over.
She, as my Mother says, is a Dickens. Life is all the more sweeter with her in it. A smidgen scary some times, but definitely sweeter.
Dedicated to Lucy.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
One Day at a Time
I lean down to the dogs today to listen to the message of the Rescue Girls. I believe that God whispers through the dogs sometimes. I also believe that if you stand next to a tree and close your eyes and listen to the wind move the leaves, you can hear the voice of God. I'm sure some would lock me away for this but I like to listen for God. I find God in the smallest of places and the smallest of moments. It is always a joy.
I listen intently tonight and ask for guidance. I hear, "One Day at a Time - watch Vegas" and I am reminded that Vegas does not worry about her next day, her next month, how she is going to get the bills paid, the project done, she simply is in the moment, soaking up the sun or chasing a squirrel.
I hit a dog last night on my way home from work with my car. It had broken its chain and ran out under the back wheel of my car. It did not survive. The dog was loved by a young family with three small children. My heart is breaking wide open.
I lean into Vegas and she kisses me with her big, pink tongue.
It will be ok.
I listen intently tonight and ask for guidance. I hear, "One Day at a Time - watch Vegas" and I am reminded that Vegas does not worry about her next day, her next month, how she is going to get the bills paid, the project done, she simply is in the moment, soaking up the sun or chasing a squirrel.
I hit a dog last night on my way home from work with my car. It had broken its chain and ran out under the back wheel of my car. It did not survive. The dog was loved by a young family with three small children. My heart is breaking wide open.
I lean into Vegas and she kisses me with her big, pink tongue.
It will be ok.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Angels
Monday, August 9, 2010
Summer Love
As we get older, a chore I prefer to ignore most days, one of the things I notice most is how fast time passes. I notice this most in the faces of the children and dogs I love most. They age whereas in my mind, it has all stopped. It is exciting to watch the baby become a young girl and then the young girl become a teenager. Well, most moments it's exciting. I think to myself, "Oh this is the best age because..." and fill in the blank. They are all so good.
Molly the yellow lab is in the process of forgiving me for abandoning her for the past week. This forgiveness is in the form of maintaining a six inch distance from me at any given moment. Additionally, while typing on the computer, she places her cold nose under my elbow and flicks my arm in an up and down motion. "I am here!!!" She says. "Look at me!" I do. "Ok - I'm good" she responds and goes to lie down. Repeat this cycle every ten minutes.
Vegas on the other hand is in heaven. We retrieved her big memory foam dog bed (her mattress is better than mine, as it should be) from storage and placed it in the basement next to my desk. It is nice and cool down here. She snuggled up in her big, red bed and has slept for the last three hours.
I love to be with my family. I have amazing parents and brothers who love me unconditionally. I have extended family all over this country and friends that I have adopted as family. Whenever I am away from my family, I am a little lost, looking for that bit of myself that I know will always be loved.
And then the dog comes, looks me in the face, and I know I am found, I know I am loved and it is all okay.
I am home. Again.
Molly the yellow lab is in the process of forgiving me for abandoning her for the past week. This forgiveness is in the form of maintaining a six inch distance from me at any given moment. Additionally, while typing on the computer, she places her cold nose under my elbow and flicks my arm in an up and down motion. "I am here!!!" She says. "Look at me!" I do. "Ok - I'm good" she responds and goes to lie down. Repeat this cycle every ten minutes.
Vegas on the other hand is in heaven. We retrieved her big memory foam dog bed (her mattress is better than mine, as it should be) from storage and placed it in the basement next to my desk. It is nice and cool down here. She snuggled up in her big, red bed and has slept for the last three hours.
I love to be with my family. I have amazing parents and brothers who love me unconditionally. I have extended family all over this country and friends that I have adopted as family. Whenever I am away from my family, I am a little lost, looking for that bit of myself that I know will always be loved.
And then the dog comes, looks me in the face, and I know I am found, I know I am loved and it is all okay.
I am home. Again.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Summer Vacation
Two rare events are about happen. One: We are taking a vacation. Two: We are taking a vacation without the dogs. For the most part, we enjoy traveling with the dogs. Like most parents, it's all fun and games for the first five minutes.
Vegas as I've mentioned is the most mellow of car riders. She lies quietly on whatever soft bed we've created, sleeps the day away and asks for nothing. Do not drive over any of the rumble strips though because as far as we can tell, to her it's a quick onset of thunder and she will attempt to take over the driving responsibility (while I'm still driving).
Molly on the other hand is the classic definition of a dog or child with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD. "Are we there yet?" she asks, one paw on the front console, the other on Vegas' head. "Down Molly" is the response said gently, but firmly.
Five minutes later she asks, "Are we there yet?" this time with two paws on the console in the front and her back feet on Vegas' face. Vegas doesn't move but looks up at me imploringly, "Can't you do something?". "Down Molly" said firmly, with love. Molly retreats.
Five minutes later. Molly. Two feet in front, one in my coffee, one on the console. "Molly!" said not so much with love, but with exasperation. I ask the driver, "Can I drive now?". The driver responds gently but firmly, "No thank you." Molly's waltz between the back seat and the front seat goes on for the next twelve hours. She is happy, not under any duress and clearly excited about the impending adventure. I was like this at the beginning of the day.
The second day is somewhat better because she is exhausted and her trips to the front seat are broken into fifteen minute segments. Whoever is driving is content to continue driving so as not to deal with OCD dog. The passenger is using language that would make a sailor blush. Vegas remains calm throughout.
This coming week, I will know that the girls are having a weeks worth of slumber parties with their favorite dog sitter. They know that Emily is one of the pack and she loves them which makes us love Emily.
I will miss the puppy kisses, gentle head nod Molly gives, the welcome home dance. But it will be here when I get back and having something so grand to look forward to, like summer vacation, makes me smile.
Special Shout Out to Gary who Vegas & Molly met tonight at the Park. Look forward to some long walks in the future!
Vegas as I've mentioned is the most mellow of car riders. She lies quietly on whatever soft bed we've created, sleeps the day away and asks for nothing. Do not drive over any of the rumble strips though because as far as we can tell, to her it's a quick onset of thunder and she will attempt to take over the driving responsibility (while I'm still driving).
Molly on the other hand is the classic definition of a dog or child with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD. "Are we there yet?" she asks, one paw on the front console, the other on Vegas' head. "Down Molly" is the response said gently, but firmly.
Five minutes later she asks, "Are we there yet?" this time with two paws on the console in the front and her back feet on Vegas' face. Vegas doesn't move but looks up at me imploringly, "Can't you do something?". "Down Molly" said firmly, with love. Molly retreats.
Five minutes later. Molly. Two feet in front, one in my coffee, one on the console. "Molly!" said not so much with love, but with exasperation. I ask the driver, "Can I drive now?". The driver responds gently but firmly, "No thank you." Molly's waltz between the back seat and the front seat goes on for the next twelve hours. She is happy, not under any duress and clearly excited about the impending adventure. I was like this at the beginning of the day.
The second day is somewhat better because she is exhausted and her trips to the front seat are broken into fifteen minute segments. Whoever is driving is content to continue driving so as not to deal with OCD dog. The passenger is using language that would make a sailor blush. Vegas remains calm throughout.
This coming week, I will know that the girls are having a weeks worth of slumber parties with their favorite dog sitter. They know that Emily is one of the pack and she loves them which makes us love Emily.
I will miss the puppy kisses, gentle head nod Molly gives, the welcome home dance. But it will be here when I get back and having something so grand to look forward to, like summer vacation, makes me smile.
Special Shout Out to Gary who Vegas & Molly met tonight at the Park. Look forward to some long walks in the future!
Monday, July 26, 2010
A Love Letter from London
Few know how the love story of Vegas and I started. I had made contact with the people who had an older dog who needed a home. Vegas was a show dog that didn't show well and her value and worth were in question to the people who owned her. That's another story for another day. My heart said yes but head was pulling me back (not standard behavior for me). I was visiting my Aunt and Uncle at the time and when Uncle Roger dropped me off at the airport, as he walked away he yelled back at me, "GO GET VEGAS!". And the rest is history.
Uncle Roger & Aunt Dania belong to Polar, Sam (dogs)and Patrick (cat). The animals wrote today (from London with a funny accent) to Vegas & Molly. It's too beautiful not to share:
Long, long ago, God created humans. Soon thereafter an incident occurred in the Garden of Eden involving snakes and apples or some such things, and God then needed a new plan. Thus, He created Heaven and Hell. He knew that humans, having been made so smart, would soon kill each other until none were left. God then sent the message that good people would go to Heaven and bad people would go to Hell. This, He believed, would cause humans to behave as He wanted them to behave because the choice between eternal reward and eternal punishment is, well, no choice at all.
As it turned out, most humans--most, but not all--got the message. Problem was, when the Hour of Judgment arrived, all humans claimed that they were worthy of Heaven. At first, it was possible for the angels to listen to all the pleas, arguments, and explanations of humans seeking admission to Heaven, each claiming to be repentant and each professing to have done the best they could. Eventually, however, the sheer number of humans to be judged exceeded the capacity of all the angels in Heaven.
So God came up with another good idea. (He is full of good ideas). He decided that people would be judged by the animals they knew during their time on Earth. It was a brilliant idea, really. The animals knew the true soul of the humans they lived with or they encountered, and the animals could not be influenced by humans’ use of words to rationalize, self-promote, and distort past events. It soon became obvious that animals were the perfect judges of humans.
And so it is in Heaven today.
Uncle Roger & Aunt Dania belong to Polar, Sam (dogs)and Patrick (cat). The animals wrote today (from London with a funny accent) to Vegas & Molly. It's too beautiful not to share:
Long, long ago, God created humans. Soon thereafter an incident occurred in the Garden of Eden involving snakes and apples or some such things, and God then needed a new plan. Thus, He created Heaven and Hell. He knew that humans, having been made so smart, would soon kill each other until none were left. God then sent the message that good people would go to Heaven and bad people would go to Hell. This, He believed, would cause humans to behave as He wanted them to behave because the choice between eternal reward and eternal punishment is, well, no choice at all.
As it turned out, most humans--most, but not all--got the message. Problem was, when the Hour of Judgment arrived, all humans claimed that they were worthy of Heaven. At first, it was possible for the angels to listen to all the pleas, arguments, and explanations of humans seeking admission to Heaven, each claiming to be repentant and each professing to have done the best they could. Eventually, however, the sheer number of humans to be judged exceeded the capacity of all the angels in Heaven.
So God came up with another good idea. (He is full of good ideas). He decided that people would be judged by the animals they knew during their time on Earth. It was a brilliant idea, really. The animals knew the true soul of the humans they lived with or they encountered, and the animals could not be influenced by humans’ use of words to rationalize, self-promote, and distort past events. It soon became obvious that animals were the perfect judges of humans.
And so it is in Heaven today.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
A Simple Kiss
Vegas, in most true Golden Retriever fashion, has always been a great kisser. If you put your face down in front of hers, a most joyous expression of her love is sure to come your way. I assumed that all dogs gave kisses. I was wrong.
When Molly first came to us, I got down on my knees, closed my eyes in anticipation of the kisses and nothing. I got nothing. I thought, “Well she’s just warming up to us – give her time, give her time.”
She slowly learned to trust us, learned the comfort of a king size bed, learned the joy of a long walk and two square meals a day. I would bend down, ruffle the soft yellow ears and ask for a kiss. She would smile, tongue hanging out, wag her tail – but no kissing. Molly was learning the art of the tease.
I kept at it. Molly witnessed the face washing moments Vegas would give us and she learned that we were pleased. In the end, I think, Vegas taught her about the dog kiss. I remember the first Molly kiss, very delicate, very shy but it was a kiss. I gave her so much praise I thought she would split her skin. I repeated the word and she repeated the kiss. Good Girl!!
Molly is still working on the timing. Sometimes you can glance at her and she is licking the air, blowing kisses to no one in particular.
A simple kiss, a gentle touch, is all it takes some days to let you know you are loved.
When Molly first came to us, I got down on my knees, closed my eyes in anticipation of the kisses and nothing. I got nothing. I thought, “Well she’s just warming up to us – give her time, give her time.”
She slowly learned to trust us, learned the comfort of a king size bed, learned the joy of a long walk and two square meals a day. I would bend down, ruffle the soft yellow ears and ask for a kiss. She would smile, tongue hanging out, wag her tail – but no kissing. Molly was learning the art of the tease.
I kept at it. Molly witnessed the face washing moments Vegas would give us and she learned that we were pleased. In the end, I think, Vegas taught her about the dog kiss. I remember the first Molly kiss, very delicate, very shy but it was a kiss. I gave her so much praise I thought she would split her skin. I repeated the word and she repeated the kiss. Good Girl!!
Molly is still working on the timing. Sometimes you can glance at her and she is licking the air, blowing kisses to no one in particular.
A simple kiss, a gentle touch, is all it takes some days to let you know you are loved.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
A Room of One's Own
I've mentioned before that I have a 1926 cottage in a small Iowa town. The town is big by Iowa standards but small compared to Fort Lauderdale - my home town. We are in the process of selling this charming old house. It has character and a name - Bessie. I have never sold a home before but apparently there are rules. The first rule is to make it appear that you don't live there and stage it to look like a magazine, preferably not Popular Mechanics. The second rule is to keep it looking like this indefinitely. If you are a neat person this is easy. I'm a Golden Retriever and this is not easy. I generally drop things whenever something shiny crosses my path. When we "decluttered" and "staged" the house, I lost was my desk which was in the middle of the dining room (in addition to the dining room table and chairs). It took one full week for me to declutter, purge and get it in boxes which were gently moved to a storage unit.
Virginia Woolf wrote an essay I remember in bits called "A Room of One's Own". This past weekend we went out to the storage unit and reclaimed the desk. I have found a room and it is the basement. The walls are painted white and I have a window, albeit a small one up near the ceiling. I can see the bottom of the shrubs in the front yard. It is cool and the drone of the air conditioner is similar to ambient noise. The basement is mostly bare except for the washer and dryer and now my writing desk.
The dogs love the new room. They have not spent much time down here except for tornado warnings. Vegas is lying on a favorite moving blanket with her head on the cool cement floor. The yellow velcro girl has padded up to bed already.
Vegas and I will begin the journey up the stairs. I am in that space where you know you need to go to bed but you don't want to waste time sleeping. I have a new journal and a space to call my own. The possibilities are endless...
Virginia Woolf wrote an essay I remember in bits called "A Room of One's Own". This past weekend we went out to the storage unit and reclaimed the desk. I have found a room and it is the basement. The walls are painted white and I have a window, albeit a small one up near the ceiling. I can see the bottom of the shrubs in the front yard. It is cool and the drone of the air conditioner is similar to ambient noise. The basement is mostly bare except for the washer and dryer and now my writing desk.
The dogs love the new room. They have not spent much time down here except for tornado warnings. Vegas is lying on a favorite moving blanket with her head on the cool cement floor. The yellow velcro girl has padded up to bed already.
Vegas and I will begin the journey up the stairs. I am in that space where you know you need to go to bed but you don't want to waste time sleeping. I have a new journal and a space to call my own. The possibilities are endless...
Monday, July 19, 2010
Forgiveness
It’s a quick note about scared puppies. A scared seventy pound dog crawling in your arms while you sleep is just about the best wake-up alarm you can have. Now if the wake up is coming much earlier than you would like, that is unfortunate. A scared seventy pound dog is a puppy regardless of its chronological age. Last night my Golden Retriever bundle of joy body slammed me to let me know of a passing thunder storm. “Thanks Vegas” I murmured groggily.
“Hold me!!!” Vegas responded. I rub her ears and she calms down. I start to fall asleep. She sits on my chest so I can’t.
“HOLD ME” Vegas repeats. I am awake. I am listening intently for the thunder. I don’t hear it. I rub her ears some more. She is calmer. She settles down beside me, curled up under my left arm. She believes herself to be the size of a poodle. Five minutes pass. No thunder. I close my eyes.
Thunder.
Vegas stands up completely and places her two front paws on either shoulder, staring down in my face. “WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT “HOLD ME?!?”” I sit up completely, look her in the eye and tell her it’s almost over. She walks over to the side of the bed, jumps off, lands in her dog bed and hides her head under the night stand. The message is clear – I have failed her completely.
One of my most favorite dog qualities: No matter how completely you may have failed them in any given moment, you will always be forgiven. By morning, Vegas was circling the bed handing out kisses to any face drooped over the side. All I had to do was show up.
I love this dog.
“Hold me!!!” Vegas responded. I rub her ears and she calms down. I start to fall asleep. She sits on my chest so I can’t.
“HOLD ME” Vegas repeats. I am awake. I am listening intently for the thunder. I don’t hear it. I rub her ears some more. She is calmer. She settles down beside me, curled up under my left arm. She believes herself to be the size of a poodle. Five minutes pass. No thunder. I close my eyes.
Thunder.
Vegas stands up completely and places her two front paws on either shoulder, staring down in my face. “WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT “HOLD ME?!?”” I sit up completely, look her in the eye and tell her it’s almost over. She walks over to the side of the bed, jumps off, lands in her dog bed and hides her head under the night stand. The message is clear – I have failed her completely.
One of my most favorite dog qualities: No matter how completely you may have failed them in any given moment, you will always be forgiven. By morning, Vegas was circling the bed handing out kisses to any face drooped over the side. All I had to do was show up.
I love this dog.
Friday, July 16, 2010
School Days
The girls were very excited. It's a school day after all. Molly jumps in the back of the Orange Toaster and sits staring out the window. Vegas is lifted in to the front seat. She circles and plops down, front paws and head hanging off the seat on my coffee cup. We begin the journey to school. Molly briefly steps on Vegas' head to check out the temperature in the front. She finds it acceptable and slips back to her throne in the back. Vegas is not phased.
We arrive at the school aka doggie day care. We sit in the car waiting for the appropriate time to make a break for the front door. Molly, being a rescue, does not like strange dogs and other than Vegas and her Florida cousins, they are all strange. She has come a long way in the four years she has lived with us but in the back of my mind I wonder, how will she react? She has a fierce bark and there is a moment where you are sure she has morphed into Cujo. You turn to look at the fierce dog she's got her ears back and smiling at you, "What?"
We make our dash for the door without any dog drama. We enter the building and then we stand staged in front of the next set of doors. The three of us stand staring at the door waiting for it to open. It's like being in an elevator. The two of them are wagging their tails, knowing that there is all kinds of fun and dogs waiting just beyond the door. The door opens and I hand over the leashes and they are gone with a "Talk to the Paw" attitude - not even a backward glance. This was not always the case. Molly was almost expelled from school. She would jump the walls.. She would try to boss the other dogs around. If she had been expelled I'm not sure how I would have felt about having this sort of social mark on her record. Would the other dogs have looked at her with a superior attitude or worse, pity? I am proud to say she is thriving and has learned how to play well with others. I believe Vegas pulled her aside and indicated that the best life choice for her was to be a good dog.
When I go pick them up tonight they will have hanging tongues, dog smiles and wet kisses for me. This will be one of the soft, sweet moments that melt my heart.
We arrive at the school aka doggie day care. We sit in the car waiting for the appropriate time to make a break for the front door. Molly, being a rescue, does not like strange dogs and other than Vegas and her Florida cousins, they are all strange. She has come a long way in the four years she has lived with us but in the back of my mind I wonder, how will she react? She has a fierce bark and there is a moment where you are sure she has morphed into Cujo. You turn to look at the fierce dog she's got her ears back and smiling at you, "What?"
We make our dash for the door without any dog drama. We enter the building and then we stand staged in front of the next set of doors. The three of us stand staring at the door waiting for it to open. It's like being in an elevator. The two of them are wagging their tails, knowing that there is all kinds of fun and dogs waiting just beyond the door. The door opens and I hand over the leashes and they are gone with a "Talk to the Paw" attitude - not even a backward glance. This was not always the case. Molly was almost expelled from school. She would jump the walls.. She would try to boss the other dogs around. If she had been expelled I'm not sure how I would have felt about having this sort of social mark on her record. Would the other dogs have looked at her with a superior attitude or worse, pity? I am proud to say she is thriving and has learned how to play well with others. I believe Vegas pulled her aside and indicated that the best life choice for her was to be a good dog.
When I go pick them up tonight they will have hanging tongues, dog smiles and wet kisses for me. This will be one of the soft, sweet moments that melt my heart.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Bone Tired
Almost six weeks ago I decided to rise early and start working out again. Since that time, by Thursday I am bone tired. My afternoon's are supplemented with copious amounts of caffeine. I am not so tired Friday because the WEEKEND IS ALMOST HERE!! This weekend there is a farmer's market downtown and antiquing to be done. As I think about the prospect of playing, I can feel my tail start to wag and ears perk up.
On the two days that the girls go to school (also known as Doggie Day Care or the Spa), they play and romp and enjoy all measures of frivolity with the other puppies. They come home from school and initially you assume they've received amphetamines. They grab their toys and bolt out in the back yard, jumping on each other, the hostas, the tennis balls, reeking havoc.
Then it is dinner. Molly always acts surprised that we are feeding her. She stares at us smiling, following us around the kitchen as the various vitamins and supplements are carefully added to the dish. When she is sure that the dish is for her, she runs to her bowl and literally bounces up and down, closely resembling the plastic horse of my childhood that attached to a metal frame with springs. After every meal, she comes up to the person that fed her, touches her cold black nose to your hand, looks up in your face and wags her tail. "Thank you!" she says. This small gesture never goes unnoticed. Mere moments after the whirr of the dinner activity on these school days, Vegas and Molly crash.
I climb into clean sheets, a soft feather pillow as the wooden twinkling starts covered in silver sparkles hang in front of the window. Good-bye tired.
On the two days that the girls go to school (also known as Doggie Day Care or the Spa), they play and romp and enjoy all measures of frivolity with the other puppies. They come home from school and initially you assume they've received amphetamines. They grab their toys and bolt out in the back yard, jumping on each other, the hostas, the tennis balls, reeking havoc.
Then it is dinner. Molly always acts surprised that we are feeding her. She stares at us smiling, following us around the kitchen as the various vitamins and supplements are carefully added to the dish. When she is sure that the dish is for her, she runs to her bowl and literally bounces up and down, closely resembling the plastic horse of my childhood that attached to a metal frame with springs. After every meal, she comes up to the person that fed her, touches her cold black nose to your hand, looks up in your face and wags her tail. "Thank you!" she says. This small gesture never goes unnoticed. Mere moments after the whirr of the dinner activity on these school days, Vegas and Molly crash.
I climb into clean sheets, a soft feather pillow as the wooden twinkling starts covered in silver sparkles hang in front of the window. Good-bye tired.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Toast Please
I have to say it really is the most simple things that bring the greatest joy like watching the sun set on Sanibel Island. Smell can drive such a strong memory. I had a peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich for lunch and it took me back. I think I remember at one point boycotting pb&j's and insisting on bologna when I was little. What was I thinking?!? I keep a box of crayons at work just so I can take a whiff.
The toast smell is a favorite of mine and the dogs. Vegas and Molly are dignified beggars but certain foods make them rabid beggars and toast is one of them. It's my Dad's fault. When the two Iowa Retrievers cohabitate with the three Florida Retrievers, and it's breakfast time, it's TOOAST time. Dad makes one slice for himself and one whole slice for each of the dogs. Dad and I butter the toast for each dog. This part, is important. If you've watched Paula Deen or Ina Garten cook, butter is important. The dogs then sit patiently waiting, creating small pools of drool, until Dad finishes breakfast. At the end of the meal, they all eat toast. So in Iowa now when the toaster comes out of the cupboard and the toast smell begins to permeate the house, Vegas and Molly are front and center.
A peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich; a brand new box of crayons; toast with butter, orange peels, real gardenias - it's all good.
The toast smell is a favorite of mine and the dogs. Vegas and Molly are dignified beggars but certain foods make them rabid beggars and toast is one of them. It's my Dad's fault. When the two Iowa Retrievers cohabitate with the three Florida Retrievers, and it's breakfast time, it's TOOAST time. Dad makes one slice for himself and one whole slice for each of the dogs. Dad and I butter the toast for each dog. This part, is important. If you've watched Paula Deen or Ina Garten cook, butter is important. The dogs then sit patiently waiting, creating small pools of drool, until Dad finishes breakfast. At the end of the meal, they all eat toast. So in Iowa now when the toaster comes out of the cupboard and the toast smell begins to permeate the house, Vegas and Molly are front and center.
A peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwich; a brand new box of crayons; toast with butter, orange peels, real gardenias - it's all good.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Talking Dogs
What a wonderful weekend - full of visiting family and old friends in a far away, exotic place called Indiana. I never tire of driving through the Midwest - the farms, the fields, the cows and horses; New red barns, ghostly old brown ones - all staring at me as I drive by. I hadn't been back in the summer for a while and I was relieved that it was for the most part unchanged. I love that we still did the same old things like the cookout, croquet, running, holding the baby, fireworks and just hanging out. I love that these traditions and people are here and I do not take them for granted.
Upon my return, Vegas and Molly greeted me with typical retriever joy. Vegas talks. I sit down on the floor and get eye level with her. She takes her big, lion shaped paws and places them on my shoulders and then places her head on mine and tries to tuck me under her chin. Then, "Wooooo wooooo woooo wooooo" she squeaks. Vegas will not relent until she is done saying her peace. I lie there patiently, "wooooo woooooing" back to her. And then she's up and off, smiling back, knowing that she has spoken in my language and I've heard her completely. I may not have understood, but I listened.
May we all find the friend that speaks our language and listens with their heart.
May my baby brother have the best, birthday ever!
Upon my return, Vegas and Molly greeted me with typical retriever joy. Vegas talks. I sit down on the floor and get eye level with her. She takes her big, lion shaped paws and places them on my shoulders and then places her head on mine and tries to tuck me under her chin. Then, "Wooooo wooooo woooo wooooo" she squeaks. Vegas will not relent until she is done saying her peace. I lie there patiently, "wooooo woooooing" back to her. And then she's up and off, smiling back, knowing that she has spoken in my language and I've heard her completely. I may not have understood, but I listened.
May we all find the friend that speaks our language and listens with their heart.
May my baby brother have the best, birthday ever!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
In the Face of a Dog
Scott said if he died he would come back as a dog in our family because the dogs were always treated so well. I’ve thought long and hard about this, looking for him in all of our dogs since he died on July 9, 1987.
The dogs names passing through the Wiegley doors since that time: Brewster, Bucky, Genny, Molly I, Sharkey, Tyler, Bear I, Bear II, Sam, Becky, Vegas and Molly II. Smart, driven, wild, loyal, caring, loving, expensive, fun, fun, fun. Living for the moment, ready to steal the ham, clean the dishes, hold your hand, run after the tennis ball, swim, have a party.
Well there you go – he’s been here all along. Scott is in every dog that walks through the door.
Thank you God for Scott. Thank you for the dogs who remind us, as did Scott, that life is meant for fun. I miss him so much.
The dogs names passing through the Wiegley doors since that time: Brewster, Bucky, Genny, Molly I, Sharkey, Tyler, Bear I, Bear II, Sam, Becky, Vegas and Molly II. Smart, driven, wild, loyal, caring, loving, expensive, fun, fun, fun. Living for the moment, ready to steal the ham, clean the dishes, hold your hand, run after the tennis ball, swim, have a party.
Well there you go – he’s been here all along. Scott is in every dog that walks through the door.
Thank you God for Scott. Thank you for the dogs who remind us, as did Scott, that life is meant for fun. I miss him so much.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
The Squirmy Worm
I hate doing what has to be done. Washing the windows, rotating the tires, taking down the Christmas tree before Memorial Day – these are things that we, as responsible adults, are expected to do. But what about the Golden Retriever? What do they consider the drudgery of every day life?
Simple: They don’t.
There is simply nothing that occurs to them that they consider drudgery because everything is a party. Case in point: the bath. I am sure Vegas could define this activity in her bottom five least favorite activities. She stands there stoically, enduring the water down, soaping, rinsing. At time of release from the torture chamber (bathroom) she begins the dance. Zig zag down the family room floor, rubbing her face on the carpet. Zig zag back, rubbing her soggy red nose on the couch. Double spin (degree of difficulty here is high), grabbing the tail, appear to swoon, and land on her back for the ultimate expression of joy – all four paws in the air, back on the ground, squirming. If she was standing on two legs while she was doing this she would look like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. This dance has a name in our house – the Squirmy Worm.
She takes the lemon and makes lemonade. She takes the bath and makes the dance.
The next time you have to rotate your tires try this: Dance in the lounge area while you wait for your car to be delivered. Imitate John Travolta. You may get some strange looks but you will laugh at yourself and the memory of yourself looking really silly. Let me know what happens.
Simple: They don’t.
There is simply nothing that occurs to them that they consider drudgery because everything is a party. Case in point: the bath. I am sure Vegas could define this activity in her bottom five least favorite activities. She stands there stoically, enduring the water down, soaping, rinsing. At time of release from the torture chamber (bathroom) she begins the dance. Zig zag down the family room floor, rubbing her face on the carpet. Zig zag back, rubbing her soggy red nose on the couch. Double spin (degree of difficulty here is high), grabbing the tail, appear to swoon, and land on her back for the ultimate expression of joy – all four paws in the air, back on the ground, squirming. If she was standing on two legs while she was doing this she would look like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. This dance has a name in our house – the Squirmy Worm.
She takes the lemon and makes lemonade. She takes the bath and makes the dance.
The next time you have to rotate your tires try this: Dance in the lounge area while you wait for your car to be delivered. Imitate John Travolta. You may get some strange looks but you will laugh at yourself and the memory of yourself looking really silly. Let me know what happens.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Falling in the Hole
The truth is one of my biggest challenges in life is falling in the hole. The hole is just deep enough to cover my smile and heavy enough to prevent me from lifting out of it. Even Vegas has her hole, triggered by the thunderstorm. We all feel this way from time to time. Sadness sits on our shoulders weighing us down. We are sure we will get stuck in the hole for a day, a week, a month and the worst lie we tell ourselves is that no one else feels this way. No one else suffers from self doubt, no one else struggles with weight issues, life issues, romance issues, job issues, health issues. We cannot find a solution for the problem at hand and the sadness settles in like an all day rain.
I pretend that when I am sad, no one can tell. I pretend that it is my own little secret and the interior monologue of self loathing goes unheard by all. But I have come to realize that this is not the case. All who love me know when I’m in the hole. In part, being in a hole is in stark contrast to my Golden Retriever personality. I have learned that the fastest way out is to acknowledge it and take care of me with the most basic things: a bath, a nap, a good book, and a walk with the dogs.
The moment I focus on the dogs, I am reminded that life is full of joy in the very smallest moments. The jingle of leash brings a dance of delight. “A Walk!?! Seriously?!? That’s the best news EVER!!!” The threat of throwing the squeaky tennis ball sends Vegas flying in anticipation.
What is most true: Squirrels and tennis balls and the dogs that chase them are the miracles of life.
I pretend that when I am sad, no one can tell. I pretend that it is my own little secret and the interior monologue of self loathing goes unheard by all. But I have come to realize that this is not the case. All who love me know when I’m in the hole. In part, being in a hole is in stark contrast to my Golden Retriever personality. I have learned that the fastest way out is to acknowledge it and take care of me with the most basic things: a bath, a nap, a good book, and a walk with the dogs.
The moment I focus on the dogs, I am reminded that life is full of joy in the very smallest moments. The jingle of leash brings a dance of delight. “A Walk!?! Seriously?!? That’s the best news EVER!!!” The threat of throwing the squeaky tennis ball sends Vegas flying in anticipation.
What is most true: Squirrels and tennis balls and the dogs that chase them are the miracles of life.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sunshine and Laughter
This Iowa day was full of sunshine and delight. This is a phenomena that does not go unappreciated by a girl raised in Florida who now understands cold weather in a whole new light. They actually have negative temperatures around these parts which is just wrong. Seriously, negative numbers are not real, are they? I was an English major so it's a detail that is not important.
Today I swam laps at lunch again and rejoiced in the fact that I was outside, covered in sun. I swim hard to get in as many laps as possible in the short time I have to swim. The novelty may wear off but for now it is like going to camp for 30 minutes in the middle of the day.
Tonight when I go home, I will pull the Orange Toaster (an orange Honda Element that was aptly named for its shape) in the driveway. It is an old long driveway attached to an old house. As I pull in the driveway I will beep the horn to let everyone know I'm home. The dogs come up to the window in the family room and stand wagging their tails, staring out the window. I dawdle in the car (because I am a Golden Retriever) collecting the debris of the day or hanging up the phone, and Vegas barks impatiently. I slowly open the house door and it's the great homecoming. Miss Molly dances (all four legs again going in seperate directions) and smiles, panting in delight. She circles me like a flag pole daring me to walk a straight line. Vegas brings me a treat - a stuffed cow, a tennis ball or some other great reward for returning to the pack. She barks, she smiles and urges me to go in the back yard for a romp.
All I will do is come home. It will be a holiday, a celebration. I will be a hero. Oh how I love long summer days...
Today I swam laps at lunch again and rejoiced in the fact that I was outside, covered in sun. I swim hard to get in as many laps as possible in the short time I have to swim. The novelty may wear off but for now it is like going to camp for 30 minutes in the middle of the day.
Tonight when I go home, I will pull the Orange Toaster (an orange Honda Element that was aptly named for its shape) in the driveway. It is an old long driveway attached to an old house. As I pull in the driveway I will beep the horn to let everyone know I'm home. The dogs come up to the window in the family room and stand wagging their tails, staring out the window. I dawdle in the car (because I am a Golden Retriever) collecting the debris of the day or hanging up the phone, and Vegas barks impatiently. I slowly open the house door and it's the great homecoming. Miss Molly dances (all four legs again going in seperate directions) and smiles, panting in delight. She circles me like a flag pole daring me to walk a straight line. Vegas brings me a treat - a stuffed cow, a tennis ball or some other great reward for returning to the pack. She barks, she smiles and urges me to go in the back yard for a romp.
All I will do is come home. It will be a holiday, a celebration. I will be a hero. Oh how I love long summer days...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The End of the Day
Have you ever seen a dog run in their sleep? A little motion from the front paws, a quiver of a cheek muscle - signs that a dog is dreaming. I imagine Vegas is having dreams of chasing squirrels on fences, an untended hamburger, swimming in a sea of tennis balls. The thing is, Vegas does not dream with tender quivers of paws, Vegas dreams with a full out run. I do not exaggerate about this fact (like most others). I had a call one day from the day care she attends (yes she does attend the day care twice a week and LOVES it) by a concerned (new) staffer who was sure she was having a seizure, so violent she becomes in her sleep. By day, mild mannered Golden Retriever, by night - I believe in her dreams she becomes a Whippet. She leaps in the air with grace for the frisbee, retrieves tennis balls from the forest tree tops and does so with such speed that she is but a blur.
Sweet Vegas in real life is no Whippet. She drags her back paws ever so slightly due to a congenital abnormality and she struggles with standing and stairs on bad days. There is no indication of pain so far. Today when I dropped them off at school there was another woman who had just dropped her big dog off and Vegas went up to the woman, big head raised wagging her whole self and saying with undeniable joy, "I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE!!" For that moment, she brought perfect love and acceptance to a complete stranger.
Never underestimate the power of a gentle nuzzle or a big dream.
Sweet Vegas in real life is no Whippet. She drags her back paws ever so slightly due to a congenital abnormality and she struggles with standing and stairs on bad days. There is no indication of pain so far. Today when I dropped them off at school there was another woman who had just dropped her big dog off and Vegas went up to the woman, big head raised wagging her whole self and saying with undeniable joy, "I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE!!" For that moment, she brought perfect love and acceptance to a complete stranger.
Never underestimate the power of a gentle nuzzle or a big dream.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sweeeeeeming
My parents gave me the most amazing gift when I was but a young tadpole – swimming. I love that chlorine smell on my skin. It can take me back to my childhood as fast as fresh cut grass, the ice cream truck and orange push-ups and 70’s music (Rock the Boat). Today I swam laps at lunch for the first time in years. I smiled for the entire sixteen minutes I swam, remembering all of the swim practices, swim meets, and underwater tag games that are so much a part of my history. I love being able to do something that connects me to a part of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.
Vegas and Molly don’t swim in Iowa as much as they would like but they know about swimming. They do it quite differently. Molly swims like she runs – with complete and utter abandonment. All four legs swim in opposite directions and you know she is thinking, “I am HOT!” You can’t help but laugh at her. Vegas, true to her Golden Retriever roots, is completely OCD. She will be so tired she can barely hold herself up and she will bark when the pool party gets shut down.
When I go to my parents, all five dogs go swimming in the pool (sweeeeeeeming as it is called). My parents dogs (Becky & Bear), my brother’s dog (Sam), and Vegas spend the time retrieving tennis balls and the like that we throw for them. Molly, the free spirit, chases one ball down and then spends the remainder of the time running circles around the pool playing keep away. The thing is, no one else is chasing her. She jumps in the pool from time to time, but the rest of the pack ignores her. And she is completely oblivious to their indifference.
I love to swim. May we all find the tennis ball of our dreams and chase it down with reckless abandonment. Like Molly.
Vegas and Molly don’t swim in Iowa as much as they would like but they know about swimming. They do it quite differently. Molly swims like she runs – with complete and utter abandonment. All four legs swim in opposite directions and you know she is thinking, “I am HOT!” You can’t help but laugh at her. Vegas, true to her Golden Retriever roots, is completely OCD. She will be so tired she can barely hold herself up and she will bark when the pool party gets shut down.
When I go to my parents, all five dogs go swimming in the pool (sweeeeeeeming as it is called). My parents dogs (Becky & Bear), my brother’s dog (Sam), and Vegas spend the time retrieving tennis balls and the like that we throw for them. Molly, the free spirit, chases one ball down and then spends the remainder of the time running circles around the pool playing keep away. The thing is, no one else is chasing her. She jumps in the pool from time to time, but the rest of the pack ignores her. And she is completely oblivious to their indifference.
I love to swim. May we all find the tennis ball of our dreams and chase it down with reckless abandonment. Like Molly.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Family
For Matt, one of the bravest of them all.
It may come as a surprise to you I was 40 years old when Vegas and I moved away from dog cousins, parents, brother and friends to start a new life in this strange and wonderful place called Iowa. I think you know better than most how fast life can change. Sometimes the change can be wonderful and exciting and fun. Sometimes the change can be scary and totally unwanted.
Trust me when I tell you that Molly and Vegas, for as long as they want us, will be part of our family. I may have rescued them but they really rescue me every day by how much they love us. You see, you and I may not have been born in to the same family, but God brought us together, just like He brought Vegas and Molly to us. God knew I needed someone like you to teach me how to fish, how to laugh, how to not take life so seriously. Emma has taught me how to relax and pretend, and E has just become this beautiful and disciplined young lady who acts with grace and determination.
Did you know that your Mom is one of my best friends? She found me wandering around France and asked me if I needed a friend? I said yes of course because your Mom is cool. And she makes me feel tall (because she is so short). Every day I ask Molly and Vegas what do they want to say to the world? Tonight they said they want to make sure you know how very much we all love you. They want to make sure you know that you are (in the words of one my favorite all time movies, Homeward Bound) one of our favorite boys.
We are today and for always, Family.
It may come as a surprise to you I was 40 years old when Vegas and I moved away from dog cousins, parents, brother and friends to start a new life in this strange and wonderful place called Iowa. I think you know better than most how fast life can change. Sometimes the change can be wonderful and exciting and fun. Sometimes the change can be scary and totally unwanted.
Trust me when I tell you that Molly and Vegas, for as long as they want us, will be part of our family. I may have rescued them but they really rescue me every day by how much they love us. You see, you and I may not have been born in to the same family, but God brought us together, just like He brought Vegas and Molly to us. God knew I needed someone like you to teach me how to fish, how to laugh, how to not take life so seriously. Emma has taught me how to relax and pretend, and E has just become this beautiful and disciplined young lady who acts with grace and determination.
Did you know that your Mom is one of my best friends? She found me wandering around France and asked me if I needed a friend? I said yes of course because your Mom is cool. And she makes me feel tall (because she is so short). Every day I ask Molly and Vegas what do they want to say to the world? Tonight they said they want to make sure you know how very much we all love you. They want to make sure you know that you are (in the words of one my favorite all time movies, Homeward Bound) one of our favorite boys.
We are today and for always, Family.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Almost Home
My parents have a saying that they have LAPradors, not LABradors and this is most true for our second rescue who is a LAPrador mix and loves my LAP. The second dog that came to rescue us came with the name Coreopsis. I’m sure you will agree that this is neither a good name for a flower or a dog. The day she came home we started tossing names out at her and Molly is the one that caused her to perk her ears up and smile and so she picked her name. But that was only the beginning.
Nickname Number One: Molly McButter
During the season of baking cookies, I had left two pounds of butter out to soften. She ate them.
Nickname Number Two: Darth Molly
When Molly is most content and happy, she will issue forth a most bizarre sound from her throat that sounds very much like Darth Vader breathing. I believe she learned this guttural form of communication while living as a street dog with unsavory cats.
Nickname Number Three: Grappling Hook Girl
In the morning, Molly and I play a game where I pretend (or some days don’t pretend) to be asleep and she stares me down from the end of the bed. When I don’t respond to the stare down, she inches forward with her paws curved. She then uses her paws as grappling hooks and using my knees, elbows or other body parts she finds, climbs her way up to my face. If I have successfully ignored her up to this point, my reward is a face full of kisses. I love this game.
Nickname Number Four: Velcro Girl
Molly follows me around from room to room to room to room, rarely leaving me for more than a few minutes. I take a bath, she waits outside on the floor with her nose between the toes (the infamous NBT). She loves the other humans and Vegas (the Golden Retriever rescue) to be sure but for reasons I don’t entirely understand, she has named me. Granted, I may be a little easier with the dog biscuits. I hope it is because she has finally had her question answered, “Am I home?”
Oh yes Velcro girl, you are home. And it’s home because you are here.
Nickname Number One: Molly McButter
During the season of baking cookies, I had left two pounds of butter out to soften. She ate them.
Nickname Number Two: Darth Molly
When Molly is most content and happy, she will issue forth a most bizarre sound from her throat that sounds very much like Darth Vader breathing. I believe she learned this guttural form of communication while living as a street dog with unsavory cats.
Nickname Number Three: Grappling Hook Girl
In the morning, Molly and I play a game where I pretend (or some days don’t pretend) to be asleep and she stares me down from the end of the bed. When I don’t respond to the stare down, she inches forward with her paws curved. She then uses her paws as grappling hooks and using my knees, elbows or other body parts she finds, climbs her way up to my face. If I have successfully ignored her up to this point, my reward is a face full of kisses. I love this game.
Nickname Number Four: Velcro Girl
Molly follows me around from room to room to room to room, rarely leaving me for more than a few minutes. I take a bath, she waits outside on the floor with her nose between the toes (the infamous NBT). She loves the other humans and Vegas (the Golden Retriever rescue) to be sure but for reasons I don’t entirely understand, she has named me. Granted, I may be a little easier with the dog biscuits. I hope it is because she has finally had her question answered, “Am I home?”
Oh yes Velcro girl, you are home. And it’s home because you are here.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Good Enough
Strong work ethic, desire to do one's best, be the best possible parent, sister, brother, child, spouse, worker, and most often a combination of all of these. We strive to have bodies that are strong, hearts that are open and optimistic, and minds that are nimble. We want to protect the ones we love from any pain.
I watched Vegas and Molly in the backyard as I was grilling sweet potatoes and peppers. Molly runs like a young deer with new legs. She is going on eight years old. Each leg goes in a seperate direction and the greater her joy, the more uncoordinated she becomes. There was an episode of "Friends" where Phoebe runs with complete abandon - this is our Molly and we call her Phoebe when she does this. Well Molly got her joy run on, Vegas laid in wait for the neighborhood cat (laying, laughing on the other side of the fence), and I realized that neither of them were worried about being better dogs. They simply were content with what they were doing. I spend a lot of time wishing I could be a better something and don't feel all that great about myself when I miss the unrealistic high mark.
I ate dinner and Vegas collapsed on the floor at my feet, tired from her cat waiting and tennis ball chasing moments. I reached down to scratch her neck, under her chin and she tossed her head back as I knew she would. If she had long hair it would be falling down her back. Vegas smiles that smile and that is enough. She is enough. We are all just enough.
I watched Vegas and Molly in the backyard as I was grilling sweet potatoes and peppers. Molly runs like a young deer with new legs. She is going on eight years old. Each leg goes in a seperate direction and the greater her joy, the more uncoordinated she becomes. There was an episode of "Friends" where Phoebe runs with complete abandon - this is our Molly and we call her Phoebe when she does this. Well Molly got her joy run on, Vegas laid in wait for the neighborhood cat (laying, laughing on the other side of the fence), and I realized that neither of them were worried about being better dogs. They simply were content with what they were doing. I spend a lot of time wishing I could be a better something and don't feel all that great about myself when I miss the unrealistic high mark.
I ate dinner and Vegas collapsed on the floor at my feet, tired from her cat waiting and tennis ball chasing moments. I reached down to scratch her neck, under her chin and she tossed her head back as I knew she would. If she had long hair it would be falling down her back. Vegas smiles that smile and that is enough. She is enough. We are all just enough.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Dogs and Dads
Happy Father's Day JR!
My Mom is the pack leader but JR is all about the dog. Big dogs were always a part of our life. The first dog that I remember was an English Setter named Duffy. At the age of five, my memory of Duffy is of her chasing me around the back yard trying to grab the seat of my pants with her mouth. We lived near a lake and on Easter the Easter Bunny brought some ducks to live on the lake. Duffy, true to her nature, found these presents and retrieved them. And there the ducks were on the doorstop for the small children to find on Easter morning. With the memory of the traumatized children fresh in her mind, my mother traded Duffy for some Sycamore trees. That tree farmer said that Duffy was the best hunting dog he ever had.
I love that when I visit my parents in Florida, we have more dogs than people in the house. I love that Dad won't watch a movie where a dog gets hurt. I love that Dad's best friend is Mom.
If I were to describe JR to you, think John Wayne but smart. One of my favorite memories of all time is my first trip home from college where I flew in from UNCG to the Miami airport. Dad said, "I'll meet you curbside". I stepped out on the curb with my luggage and he had a look on his face like he had just found his favorite tennis ball.
When I remember that moment, I know I am loved.
My Mom is the pack leader but JR is all about the dog. Big dogs were always a part of our life. The first dog that I remember was an English Setter named Duffy. At the age of five, my memory of Duffy is of her chasing me around the back yard trying to grab the seat of my pants with her mouth. We lived near a lake and on Easter the Easter Bunny brought some ducks to live on the lake. Duffy, true to her nature, found these presents and retrieved them. And there the ducks were on the doorstop for the small children to find on Easter morning. With the memory of the traumatized children fresh in her mind, my mother traded Duffy for some Sycamore trees. That tree farmer said that Duffy was the best hunting dog he ever had.
I love that when I visit my parents in Florida, we have more dogs than people in the house. I love that Dad won't watch a movie where a dog gets hurt. I love that Dad's best friend is Mom.
If I were to describe JR to you, think John Wayne but smart. One of my favorite memories of all time is my first trip home from college where I flew in from UNCG to the Miami airport. Dad said, "I'll meet you curbside". I stepped out on the curb with my luggage and he had a look on his face like he had just found his favorite tennis ball.
When I remember that moment, I know I am loved.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Raindrops on Roses...
The second of two thunderstorms has rolled through Eastern Iowa tonight. Vegas is afraid of thunder. She will wedge herself between the couch and the ottoman and by virtue of hiding her head under the ottoman she becomes invisible. There have been many days this week when I also wished I could hide my head under the ottoman and become invisible.
The promise of the squirrel dancing on the fence tomorrow brings me out.
A dog of note: Molly. Molly is a yellow Labbish rescue from Iowa. She joined our family a year after I moved to Iowa. There are two Retrievers rescuing and being rescued here. I've set the record straight. Straight as it can be...
The promise of the squirrel dancing on the fence tomorrow brings me out.
A dog of note: Molly. Molly is a yellow Labbish rescue from Iowa. She joined our family a year after I moved to Iowa. There are two Retrievers rescuing and being rescued here. I've set the record straight. Straight as it can be...
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Car Rides
I've witnessed the complete abandon with which some dogs ride in cars. With little regard to personal safety, they stick their head out the window, their ears flop up and down and the tongue hangs out to the side in an almost embarrassing fashion.
Not Vegas.
Vegas is lifted into the car. I think this is the first breach of dog dignity. You see, Vegas cannot lift herself into anything as she was born with a bad back. This bad back also causes her to walk with a distinct swagger. Vegas will then curl up in a seat (or dog bed) and I get the distinct impression she is saying to herself, "Go to my happy place, go to my happy place, go to my happy place."
I remember from when I was very young, bench seats in cars. You don't see bench seats much anymore although I'm sure they still have them. I remember lying in the front seat (when that was still safe) with my head on my Mom's lap as she played with my hair and Daddy drove. It is what safe feels like. This morning Vegas reminded me of that feeling when she reached out and placed one big paw on my thigh and eased her head on to my leg. I tossled her ears and wondered if this is what safe felt like to her?
The wonderful cut grass smell is lingering on the feet of dogs tonight.
Not Vegas.
Vegas is lifted into the car. I think this is the first breach of dog dignity. You see, Vegas cannot lift herself into anything as she was born with a bad back. This bad back also causes her to walk with a distinct swagger. Vegas will then curl up in a seat (or dog bed) and I get the distinct impression she is saying to herself, "Go to my happy place, go to my happy place, go to my happy place."
I remember from when I was very young, bench seats in cars. You don't see bench seats much anymore although I'm sure they still have them. I remember lying in the front seat (when that was still safe) with my head on my Mom's lap as she played with my hair and Daddy drove. It is what safe feels like. This morning Vegas reminded me of that feeling when she reached out and placed one big paw on my thigh and eased her head on to my leg. I tossled her ears and wondered if this is what safe felt like to her?
The wonderful cut grass smell is lingering on the feet of dogs tonight.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Proof Positive
Last night we saw summer's first fireflies come out. There were only a couple of twinkles in the yard but it was there - proof positive of summer. I was walking barefoot through the soft, wet grass and Vegas dawdled around every bush, every leaf, every twig as if it was a brand new discovery.
"Did you see this rock?!? Wait, wait - what about this one - holy cow!! (It's a rock bed). I am watching the fireflies and she pads over behind me, nose pointed down and nudges my hand with the top of her head.
I ruffle her ear and she's off. Sweet girl, sweet summer night.
"Did you see this rock?!? Wait, wait - what about this one - holy cow!! (It's a rock bed). I am watching the fireflies and she pads over behind me, nose pointed down and nudges my hand with the top of her head.
I ruffle her ear and she's off. Sweet girl, sweet summer night.
Monday, June 14, 2010
First Post
A red headed girl named Vegas - that is the charming, sleepy face above. She came with the name Vegas, neither of us at the time had ever stepped foot in a casino, let alone Las Vegas. Her brothers and sisters apparently were all named after the poker game.
Tonight is a muggy, slow, drowsy summer night in Iowa. I was getting lost in the TV, a re-run I had seen many times. TV is a slow drip anesthetic, and one I use more often than I care to admit. I turned to look at Vegas and there she sat staring out the window to the driveway. She was waiting for Mama Kitty (the best cared for homeless cat you will ever meet). Vegas was watching the driveway in the same way most people watch a tennis match, looking left, then right, then left again. This lasted about five minutes. I crawled over on the floor to sit and watch beside her. As soon as I was next to her, Vegas smiled a big grin (she is dictating to me as I write that it was NOT a Cheshire Cat grin) and licked my face and proceeded to bring me a small stuffed reindeer. Prancer I believe.
I was pulled out of the self indulgent gravity of the recliner and re-run and into the big lion-shaped paws of Vegas. It's the very smallest of moments that turn your life, ever so slightly, forward.
Tonight is a muggy, slow, drowsy summer night in Iowa. I was getting lost in the TV, a re-run I had seen many times. TV is a slow drip anesthetic, and one I use more often than I care to admit. I turned to look at Vegas and there she sat staring out the window to the driveway. She was waiting for Mama Kitty (the best cared for homeless cat you will ever meet). Vegas was watching the driveway in the same way most people watch a tennis match, looking left, then right, then left again. This lasted about five minutes. I crawled over on the floor to sit and watch beside her. As soon as I was next to her, Vegas smiled a big grin (she is dictating to me as I write that it was NOT a Cheshire Cat grin) and licked my face and proceeded to bring me a small stuffed reindeer. Prancer I believe.
I was pulled out of the self indulgent gravity of the recliner and re-run and into the big lion-shaped paws of Vegas. It's the very smallest of moments that turn your life, ever so slightly, forward.
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Buddy
Buddy the black lab. My parent’s older of two black labs. Mom named Buddy shortly after he came to live with us. Why "Buddy" ...
