Stealing Candy From A Baby

Maybe it was an opportunity too good to be true. Perhaps it was a case of poor impulse control. Could be the devil made him do it. Or, even it was merely instinct taking over. Possibly he was simply being a brat and doing what brats do.

Since rank has it's privileges often Kobe gets fed at the top of the stairs so he doesn't have to navigate them. Some might say we are spoiling him, I say he's simply well loved. I don't mind having a food bowl at the top of the stairs. Many might think it a tad odd, but that is their privilege.

Let me set the scene. There was no yogurt in the fridge to put on the top of the dogs food on this particular day. So Reno decided a special treat from the jar needed to go on the top of Kobe's food. Rather like a cherry on an ice cream sundae. The treats were extra yummy as they were from treat bags of the doggy birthday party Mickey and I recently attended. To my guys, these were high dollar treats. So a yummy morsel is put on Prince Kobe's bowl.

The bowl is taken upstairs and Kobe is called for his kibble. As our aged Prince gets those old bones moving and heading to the hallway Mickey sees what is happening. Perhaps smells the extra treat there. He races past Kobe. Without slowing down, or a moments guilt, snags the tasty treat from the top of the bowl and races off with it.

Like stealing candy from a baby or Geritol from an senior citizen. Mickey!!! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Mickey - you little thief! Mickey - you opportunist! It was wrong I tell you. And it was hilarious. Well, except for Kobe. He didn't find it nearly as amusing as we did.

On the other hand, I should have expected this from Mick. He is the one who ate the fruitcake when we weren't looking. Now we know he is a repeat treat offender.

Spotting

The word spotting has many meanings. Often, it's what happens when I have dinner. Both my oldest son and I have a propensity for dripping, splashing, spilling. Then the term is used in ballet for spotting during a pirouette. A way to focus so that one doesn't get dizzy. I need to do that more often myself.

Of late, we've been spotting Kobe as he descends the stairs. Going down this old boy gets a little too much momentum going. We have a rug as a landing pad, but he does his darnedest to avoid it. Funny how often we avoid help even when we need it. I don't mind giving this old Prince a hand on the stairs. Heck, sometimes we even feed him upstairs so he doesn't have to come to the kitchen. Before too long he'll be lounging in his bed with a bib, a tray and fancy dishes. When he asks for the ambiance of some candlelight I'm drawing the line.

Spotting is a loving hand placed gently for support. It keeps Kobe from skidding into the furniture. It keeps us connected in providing the best care possible for him. Some might say we're towing him down the stairs. I say we're getting him safely from one spot to the next.

Isn't that what love does?

Leaving The Nest

It's that time of year. Kids graduating and moving on. Like the baby robins in the back yard taking that huge leap of faith and going for it. I wonder if Momma Robin warns them that first step is a doozie? And then, if you survive the first step, what about all the other challenges that follow.

One of my baby's graduated from college this weekend. Four and half years ago he left the nest he called home. Now he's leaving the nest he called college. He has learned a lot these last few years. He leaves there with friendships that will sustain him the rest of his life, and a college debt that will last almost that long.

The dogs have been fretting over the nests in the yard all week. The smell, the feeding commotion, the sight of them crowded in their nests has them at high alert. The three from the nest on the light fixture flew the coop on Saturday while we were gone most the day. One didn't make it, but the other two haven't been seen since. At least I know the dogs weren't out when they tried those new wings.

I never cease to be amazed at those leaps of faith we take. The times life requires us to leave the nest. And the times life enhances our appreciation for the nest, whatever shape it comes in. Truth be told we all leave the nest, but we no doubt take a part of it with us where ever we go.

Hank and Mickey will miss the nest on the light fixture. Lord knows Hank tried incredibly hard to leap high enough to sniff those baby robins. He came darned close. I wonder what those birds thought when they'd see that pointer nose coming at them??? They will miss the nest, and I will the babies . My son will miss his nest at school as he and his classmates scatter far and wide.

Life is a series of nests, and a leaving one to build another is a part of the process.

Corrections

Hank is still exploring the wonder of the yard, and the invisible fence, for that matter. Naturally, the collar battery went dead one evening, so he did visit the neighbors. Thankfully he only got as far as the house who's German Shepard, named Penny, has gotten out several times. Talk about canine karma, I snag her loose dog, she snags mine. Thank you Lord!

With the new battery in the collar, he honors the fence quite well. I'm hoping I saw his last zap the other day. On one side of the yard the invisible fence runs parallel to a chain link fence. I was watching him, but I'm not sure what he was chasing. He ran, full speed toward the boundary, couldn't stop in time and went head first into the chain link fence. To say he never saw it coming would be a gross (yet hilarious) misstatement. He recovered well, responded to the zap and headed back to the safe zone in the yard. Okay, so maybe it was the rebound off the fence that sent him back into the yard. I'm noticing he stays well away from that part of the yard. Sometimes we get multiple corrections, in training, in life, kinda like two for the price of one.

Of late, he's more interested in the baby robins in the nest by the back door than the fence boundaries. This, for the moment is a good thing, though he hasn't discovered that he can't jump as high as Momma Robin can fly. He's trying, but he can't!!! It does make it easy (read funny) to watch him from the kitchen though! I can't blame him, I love watching Mrs. Robinson and the babies too. However, I have no desire to eat them!

I only hope, the day the precious baby birds take that first down hill "flight" that I'm at work and the dogs are snoozing away inside.

Ahh, the wonder of spring, the process of learning new things, the corrections that come with that, the joy Hank has in having his own yard to run in. He's a happy boy - and who of us doesn't find their bliss without a few corrections along the way.

Holding Hands

I haven't held hands so much in a long, long time.

And it has me thinking. There are many ways to hold hands with someone. When my babies were new, there was the wonder of them latching on with their tiny hand to your finger. That was holding hands. When they were toddlers and needed some extra balance they held your hand. When they were young and learning to stay close, or to cross streets, again I held their hand. I loved holding a child's hand. Such a safe, comfortable feeling.

We hold hands in other ways too, figuratively, and literally. In many ways the dogs hold my hand even though they have no thumbs. Their presence and the comfort they bring in essence holds my hand and makes me whole. My friends, via phone, face book, email - hold my hand in their special way. They make a contact, and in that contact ease my way.

I've spent a lot of time holding my Mom's hand this week. Holding it to support her, comfort her, anchor her. I am the adult this time around and she is the child. And the very least I can do is hold her hand.

Tomorrow, I'll "hold" Hank's hand as he is scheduled for his biopsy. I love it that "happy go lucky Hank" isn't aware of the issues that may affect his health. It weighs heavy on my heart, but his wonderful in the moment way he only knows that life is good.

That is what holding hands is for - to reassure, to connect, to understand that we are not alone. We are better together. Holding hands confirms that.

Lullaby

Since a week ago Thursday, I've spend numerous hours at the hospital with my Mom. Not as many as my brother has, but then he's retired - at least from a paying job.

Many things rolling through the brain, stress of waiting and watching a parent go through surgery and slowly recovering. Trying to balance work, family time, dog time, hospital time, commuting time, sleeping time, down time. You get my drift.

Time in the garden, with Reno, and with the dogs is balm for my soul. Funny how we sometimes need a lullaby to help us relax.

At the hospital, over the intercom, every time a baby is born they play a bar of music from a child's lullaby. What a lovely tribute to life. A little reminder that a new life just began. Something sweet to celebrate. Something to stop the mind for a gentle touch of soothing.

The soft touch of comfort, and hope, and new beginnings. It has given me new respect for lullabies. They aren't just for babies. In fact, they come in many shapes and forms. And yes, we all need them.

Hellooo - I'm a Genius

Hank has a new nickname. Reno always manages to bestow (inflict) just the right persona to our dogs in the form of a nickname. Besides Hammerin Hank, he is also called Mr. Hanky. Although I personally squirm at the Mr. Hanky The Christmas Poo reference. Lately the name Skeezix keeps coming up - and that one I can live with.

Mr. Skeezix was enjoying the bliss of rolling on bath towels I'd just used this morning. I sat on the bed to towel off. Hank barged in closer to help me. In the end I got up and he took over the towel. In his own Hanky way he really got into the process. So much so his head went over the side of the bed while squirming and his torso followed. We had a good laugh at that. He hopped back up and being the genius he is went for another roll. Something that delicious must be enjoyed twice! Again he rolls and squirms on his back with a big goofy grin until yet again he squirms off the side onto his head. Helloo, do you not see a pattern here?? Were it not for the head trauma he would be a genius.

But he has a point in that pea sized lemon head of his. Bliss needs to be repeated. Little bumps and tumbles do not ruin the bliss. You just get up and enjoy it again. Hopefully, one adjusts a little to preclude the tumble. But the bliss - one must go for it.

Graduating

Mr. Hanky is graduating. Graduating to leash dragging.

Leash dragging? Huh? He is to the part in the invisible fence training where we have to let go of the leash. We all know how hard it is sometimes to let go. We expend way more energy holding on, than we do releasing.

He had his first adventure in leash dragging tonight. He stayed well away from the boundaries, and enjoyed running to and fro. There were no major distractions, like a wotten wabbit, or a squirrely squirrel. Thank goodness, I'd have been a nervous wreck! I know that day will come, but on his solo leash drag, I wanted it to be a positive experience. And it was. Of course, if one is dragging a leash one must also pee on it. He didn't fail us on that one!

It's fun to measure his progress. To measure any type of progress. To hold on to our trust, and to let go of the leash. Whatever leash it may be.

Hang Tags

If Mickey had a hang tag it would say 'dry clean only'. Until today, I did not know this about him.

We went to our local hospital for our weekly pet therapy visit. It was sprinkling when we went in so I grabbed my umbrella. I will admit it is a poor excuse for an umbrella. It opens up wide and round on one side, and it has that broken bird wing look on the other. It's not a great umbrella. But, it's better than no umbrella at all. And the fact I can find it bodes well too. One can't be too choosy.

On leaving it was pouring. I'm thinking wow - so glad I brought this umbrella. Mick was no doubt thinking damn, that umbrella isn't large enough for the both of us. I discovered he does not like getting wet. A fourth of the way to the car I notice he's walking funny. Back all hunched up like he was in mortal pain. I'm thinking holy moley - something is wrong with Mick!!! Half way to the car we pass the bushes he waters every time we visit. I'm thinking if he relieves himself maybe the pain (whatever it might be) would be better. He didn't need to pee. He tried to take shelter under the bushes. At that point it sunk in like so much rain on a canine fur coat that he flippin detests the rain.

He is not a water dog. He hates the rain. Maybe he doesn't like that wet dog smell either. He was not a happy camper having to leave the shelter of the bushes. Not that they were much shelter, and at that point he was soaked already.

We must have made quite a sight. Pouring rain, broken bird wing umbrella, soaking wet dog being propelled through the down pour. His body language screamed "stop the madness". Mine said "move it pointer boy". Obviously, he is a fair weather dog.

Lingerie

My dogs seem to have a penchant for my lingerie. Most all of them have enjoyed some type of activity with them.

Mickey ran willy nilly through the yard with a bra looped around his neck one morning. Pete made a dash through the house with a Victoria's Secret Bra in his mouth. We have photographic evidence of that episode.

Hank takes a much different approach. He is not inclined to run with it. He is more content to roll on it. I liken dogs rolling in dead fish, animal poop, and other incredibly stinkables as really disgusting behavior. That he finds my lingerie rollable - somehow incredibly stinkable - rather dismays me. I shower, I soap, I use deodorant. Last I checked, no fish have died in my apparel. No birds have pooped on them. And yet, for Hank, rolling on a bra or panties is his bliss.

Who am I to deny him his bliss? Maybe he just wants my fragrance on him. Maybe I stink in a really tantalizing way. Well, at least to Hank I do.

Mom Thots

There are a ton of things I love about being a Mom. Colic, teething, vomiting, PMS (mine and hers), the terrible twos-through 21 are not one of them. But you know I wouldn't change it for the world. If I could go back I would make the same choices that created the same children. Okay, so maybe one child could have done better in school, and one wouldn't have been so argumentative and one didn't have to test all the house rules to the nth degree. But, life gave me great kids and gave us wonderful life lessons. Bottom line is - I Love Being Their Mom.

I love being the dog's "Mom" and foster "Mom". Yes, I realize I didn't conceive them or give birth to them. But they are dependent on me, so I am sort of a Mother to them.

Best thing is I can crate them when I need to. Something I couldn't do with my other off spring. And they (the dogs) like me all the time. In fact, adore me!! They don't say "Mom, can I have $'s and more $'s. Although the vet does get a fair share of my expendable income.

I am not, nor probably never will be close with my Mom. But it gives me goals for how I want things to be with my kids. I've planted many seeds with my kids. Literally and figuratively. And in the years to come I hope to see them bloom.

So I need to give thanks for having a Mom, being a Mom, for those friends I tend to Mother, for having awesome kids, for being the dogs Mom.

It's all pretty cool - I'm well blessed.

When Bad Things Happen To Good Dogs

Every foster dog has it's own story. Most times you never get to hear it though. If only they could talk. And yet, if they could how many tears would we weep at their stories?

Bad things can and do happen to good dogs. Many people think only bad dogs end up in rescue. Dogs with issues, problems. Dogs who are untrainable, aggressive, unruly. More often it was the owner who had problems, was untrainable, unruly, had issues. And the dogs get disposed of like yesterdays trash and the "problem" just disappears.

I have to wonder, with finding out that Hank's swollen leg issue is actually a cancerous tumor, if his owners knew and chose just to let him go. Maybe they knew and couldn't afford to care for him. Lord knows these financial times are tight for everyone and any extra bill might be one too many. Perhaps they knew, or even just suspected, and felt he was just livestock. Perhaps he was just disposable. Bad leg, maybe not good for hunting, not worth the effort.

And so this love of a dog finds his way into rescue. Proof also that good things happen to good dogs. Now he has a network of people pulling for him, praying for him, loving him. Most will only know him through me, through his profile on our website, through my blogs. But they believe in him, just like I do.

He is a good dog. He knows only the joy of being loved and cared for. He has landed in a very good place. What path he travels from here is undetermined. Course of treatment uncertain. Adopt ability and prognosis currently unknown. Life status - loved. By a very very large family known as people who support animal rescue. And especially loved by one foster Mom and Dad who will see him home - where ever that may be.

Role Reversal

I can tell that Hammerin Hank is settling in.

Until now, he has always kept us within sight while loose in the house. And we did the same for him. He is still in the 'needy boy' stage. The "willyouloveme, willyoupetme, touchmetouchmetouchme" stage.

This morning while I showered he laid on the bed with Mickey. Reno kept an eye on him, but there wasn't much to watch. Two dogs sleeping on the bed on a rainy morning. I got dressed, did my make up and even went down and had breakfast. The whole time Hank was content on the bed. I peeked in on him a couple times, much like a Mother watching a napping toddler. From my side it was the "isheok? ishebreathing? isheeatingthemattress?

Funny how in life we have role reversals. I believe they are a good thing. They can also be poignant moments, tearful moments, joyous moments. In Hanks case, it is progress.

In fact, it reminds me of my lab Abby. Her whole approach to life was - I'll be on the bed, call me if you need me. Perhaps, from across the bridge, she is teaching Hank this very lesson.

Thots

Every Spring I have a part-time job. I do some planting for a client. Well, really, she's a friend, more than just a client. I go out and plant her patio pots. There are 23 of them. The fun part is going to the nursery and selecting whatever I think she needs. I'm like a kid in a candy shop. It's usually two full loads in my SUV. Her dogs, a lab, an English springer, and a little white poodley dog always keep me company as I work. It is the perfect job.

It was just a year ago this time that Pete was adopted. Hard to believe it's his one year owner-versary already. I can remember crying as I picked out plants because my foster dog was leaving. To this day I give thanks he found such a wonderful forever home.

So this Spring we have Hank with us. Running the same zip line that Pete did, and Sidney did. I had Hank's leg looked at again today. The swelling is not fluid filled like we hoped. We've done (I say that like I held the needle) a needle biopsy and the cells have been sent to the lab for examination. As soon as the cytology report comes back, tomorrow or Thursday, we'll have a better idea what we are dealing with.

Fostering is truly a Forrest Gump experience. You never know what you are going to get. So we wait, and love this boy named Hank. And we'll see where life leads him. If it's a simple thing, all the better. If not, we'll see him through it.

In the interim, I give thanks for the work I did today, for Pete's owner-versary, and for Mr. Hanky.

A True Lady

I take a lot of ribbing from Reno about the pointers. Let me back up, I just plain take a lot of ribbing from Reno about everything. He never hesitates to point out that the pointers may only have two actual brain cells and only one works at a time. I think he's jealous of them.

I hear often on how superior the English Springer's are and what a little princess Miss Maddie is. I can't disagree too much. She is the only other female in the house and we need to stick together. However, would I go so far as to state she's smarter, faster, cuter than my pointer boys?? I think not.

With the exception of Kobe getting stuck between the air mattress and the wall recently, the pointers always look intelligent. And truly, if I'd found Prince Kobe stuck like that, my first instinct would have been to help him out, not run for the camera. So we know who discovered him in need don't we?

Last night, Miss Maddie was holding court from her recliner in the living room. Of course, she was holding court while laying upside down on her recliner. Such a little lady she is. I tried to get a photo, but of course operator error and a tricky point/shoot camera precluded that from happening. My camera is really more of a point and curse camera.

Maybe Maddie is just so smart she can hold court upside down. Maybe she's just as smart as the pointers. A true lady probably doesn't point fingers, and neither will I.

Lazy - Litter - Lounging

There are three dogs lazily littering the hallway lounging away as I write. If I moved, I couldn't take one step without stepping on Kobe. If I moved, I couldn't take two steps without stepping on Hank. Maddie is a little further down the hallway. As the only female dog here, she couldn't really be expected to commune with the males could she? And, Mickey, well he's lounging on my pillow. He's not as much of a Momma's boy/girl as the others are.

They may be sleeping, but one upward move from me and they would be up and ready to move too. Personally, I love the company. Soft snoring, occasional stretching, a really rank fart or two. Yes, I'm still referring to the dogs.

Funny how much better the dogs are at lounging than we are. Amusing how lazy they can be. Perhaps they are here to set an example for me. After a ten hour work day, I'm having trouble winding down. Not the dogs. They nap after a nap. I need more practice at that.

They don't need anything more from me, at this immediate moment, than my company. I feel exactly the same way. I should be so content so much of the time. I believe I'll work on that. And of course, the first step is by getting some sleep.

Courtyard Yahtzee

I've been thinking that Kobe would enjoy doing a pet therapy visit. In fact, I know he would. However, he can't walk far, loves laying on a blanket, and doesn't have much stamina. He loves going in the car and seeing people. I've decided a trip to the skilled care center where my Mom is at might just work for him. I'll pack a blanket and hopefully he'll curl up on it while we visit. Honestly, my Mom doesn't really give a hoot for dogs, and could care less if I bring one. Having one of the dogs with when I visit is soothing for me, so that is reason enough to make the effort.

When I visited today I took Mom out to the courtyard for some fresh air. Her world has shrunk, by choice, or chance, over the years to a very small circle. She is a "me, myself and I" person, and that makes me sad. I can't imagine not giving of one self in service to others in any way shape or form. But I digress.

We sat out at the picnic table in the courtyard and I pulled out my old Yahtzee game. It has been years since she played. I invited a couple other residents to play with us. One of the residents could read the dice, but not the scorecard so I kept score for him. We played two games in the warmth of a lovely Spring day. I think a good time was had by all.

And next time I'll take my old Prince with me. And he can hold court once more.

Noodles, Knuckles and Nancy

I have the tendency to call Hank, and sometimes the others "noodle nose" (a nickname handed down from former foster dog Pete), "knuckle butt", one of Reno's favorites "nimnal" (not sure that's even a word) or "nerd bait". Now that I put those all in print I feel the distinct need to apologize for verbal abuse. In fact, when I called Hank knuckle butt this morning he gave me one of those "helloooo" are you nuts looks?? I don't have any knuckles on my butt!!

As I was giving the dogs their morning lovings today I gave pause to think. I have the best life. I do! That's not to say there are not issues, challenges, worries, hardships, and problems. But all of those things recede when there is a dog (or two or three or four) needing some loving. When you are supported by friends, surrounded by love and buoyed by faith it can't help but lead to a great life.

I only hope I give as much as I have received. And that I laugh way more than I cry, bitch, fuss, whine, or nag. I hope. And that's a very good thing.

So as I pause to behold the most thought provoking question of the day - which dog just let a big nasty one rip - I'm sure it's one of those knuckle butts that make my life just the best. The best comes with all kinds of graces, including some smelly canine graces.