Dog Paths

There is a path the dogs run in the yard. They began it when we moved here 10 years ago. Same path, multiple dogs, many years. Grass will never grow there and the dogs rarely deviate from the path. It is the shortest distance from the front yard to the back.

We all have certain paths we use in life. The quickest route from one place to another, from home to work, from work to home. For home to work and back I always take the same route. Any other place I travel I use one route going and another route coming back. It's not a conscious decision - I just do it.

Sophie would not use the regular dog path. The path she has worn into the grass is through the middle of the yard. As far away from whatever she feels is scary. To her it doesn't matter if it's the quickest. In her head it's the safest. Where she goes nothing can jump out and surprise her.

Which path's do we take that "feel" safest? Are they really? What if, for once we embraced all the easy comfortable things, and rejected the scary, emotionally exhausting things.

What if Sophie took the established path? Well for one, the yard wouldn't look like it has a motocross path down the middle. It would still have an obvious path close to the house that hundreds of paws have carved. I wouldn't mind that. Even when the kids were little playing on the grass was way more important to me than having pretty grass. So far be it from me to stress over the path that many happy dog paws have created.

Sophie may never consistently use the "regular" path. She may, over time, use it unconsciously whenever she forgets to be afraid. Perhaps that is my greatest wish for her.....that she forgets to be afraid. In fact, I wish that for all of us.

Feeling the Pain

Into each life a little pain must come. Or, wait...was that "a little rain must fall". Either way sometimes it rains on our parade.

I, for one tolerate pain and rain fairly well. Maybe too well. Sometimes we are meant to slow down for inclement weather. My body has a case of inclement weather right now in the form of shingles. I could continue to truck through my days as I have forever and ever, or I could slow down take a different approach.

I am attempting to opt for the different approach. Usually I am the "I can, I have, I will, I do, I did, nothing is stopping me sort." Perhaps it's time to be the kind to step back and breathe instead. All I really have to do is take care of me first. The rest will fall into place. Hmmmm, take care of me first. What a novel idea.

Each life experiences pain at some point in time. Surely I've seen that from my experience with the dogs and rescue. But what I haven't seen before is that sometimes we all need some rescuing, some time to grow, to learn new ways and to heal. For once I am that timid hurting foster dog that longs for love and a second chance. My day has come.

Favorites

We all have favorites. Somewhere along the way. It is simply a part of life. We have favorite flavors, favorite dog breeds (pointers, duh), favorite sibling/child/grandchild (not mentioning any names here), favorite holidays, favorite colors, favorite shoes (ohhhh shoes!) ....and if we are lucky a favorite Uncle or Aunt.

I lost my favorite Uncle this week. Overall, he is in a better place. Pain free and happy. I wouldn't deny him that. It makes me smile to think of him. I imagine right now he's enjoying a glass of good wine, kicked back on the beach somewhere. If he were to speak something funny would come out of his mouth. It would be a short comment, quietly spoken and guaranteed to make you laugh.

Losing a favorite makes them all the more valuable. Imagine never having your favorite ice cream again? Or waiting for your favorite holiday. Not having it increases its value. We savor it more, honor it, cherish it.

Loss makes us pause. Pausing makes us think. Thinking helps us appreciate. It's good we have favorites. It's especially good to give thanks for them. Remember those who go before us. Remember with a smile....and thanks for time shared.

A Dime

If I had a dime for every time I got up to let dogs in or let dogs out, I'd be living in a large country house on a lake near the mountains with not one, but two doggy doors.

Suffice it to say I make the trip the the door a bazillion times a year. And that is a conservative estimate. Honestly, I should be a lot thinner than I am for just that reason.

I should be thinner, and the carpet should have worn out. The door should have had to be replaced and I've probably worn the soles off of approximately 30 pair of shoes. I'm amazed the steps havent collapsed and the handle broken on the door. Seriously a toll booth at the door - the idea has merit.

Most the time I go cheerfully to the door. Sometimes I admit I go begrudgingly. Other times I drag my weary butt to the door and barely have enough energy to whistle. All this said - I'm not really complaining. Just making an observation. ......just now I jumped up to go let Sophie in. Silly diva was out barking at something in the dark. Evidently I was too comfortable in my chair blogging away.

Letting them in and out, is part of the deal the dogs and I have. I wouldn't trade all the dimes in the world for them, so I guess I'll just keep doing what I do - for the doggies.

Sophie in Public

Some people don't test well. Normal, intelligent, responsive people get into situations where it seems all their brain power vanishes like it never existed. Sophie is that way in public.

We did another adoption event today. Bless her heart she is like a social retard in public. The fact that I am her foster Mom, and that I said "bless her heart" first allows me to insinuate she is somewhat challenged. Today enroute she threw up in her crate. Maybe it was my driving. I'm not sure. Then, as is the case, when we arrived she took an enormous poo in the parking lot. I know this happens, I prepare for it. Still it is amazing the volume she cranks out from sheer stress.

Then she proceeded to tremble the entire time we were there. I think perhaps a convent might be a good home for her. If she never had to leave the convent walls she would be quite happy. Her issues certainly make the other dogs look extremely adoptable.

This event was a new location for her, so of course that added to the stress. But, she did sniff and lip a doggie muffin that a kind lady offered her. She wouldn't eat it, but the fact she acknowledged it was improvement. She even chose to sniff a couple butts. Progress, however minute, is good.

Too bad people don't see the Sophie that lives with us. She is a completely different dog. Not totally confident, but definitely not totally in a dither. Ah well, the challenges of fostering, the joys of loving and the reality of living with Sophie.

Ten Reasons to Foster

Ten reasons to foster an animal....

10. You get more than you give could ever give. Trust me on this one.

9. You save a life. That's priceless.

8. You meet new people and learn new things. We need that in life.

7. You go back to the basics of loving. A timely reminder if there ever was one.

6. You stretch your ability. Always a good thing.

5. You learn how to give just because you can. Even if it's not always
convenient.

4. You save a life. Worth mentioning twice.

3. You help a family find the best friend they are searching for.

2. You discover that the rewards out weigh the challenges.

1. Your love for animals is paid forward each and every time you foster. It's
good karma squared.

New Dog In the Yard

There is a new dog in our yard. Not in terms of physical appearance, but in terms of every other type. We'll call her a confident dog. We'll call her Sophie - Queen of the Yard.

Thanking God I was finally motivated to train her on the Invisible Fence. Laughing (and wondering??)that it took me so long to make this investment in her happiness. She is a new dog I tell you. At least in the yard.

She runs with the biggest smile on her face. If she trips she'll probably bite her tongue off. Makes you wonder what is going through her head these days. Probably something like this - "I'm free, I'm free, I'm freeeeeeeeeeeee". "I can run circles around you lame brain pointer boys." "You talkin to me?? I can out point you guys paws down day in and day out." And, "I've got moves that you've never seen". "Move your butts bozo's, this is my yard".

She is not the shy girl she used to be. Pretty soon she'll be talking smack to the squirrels and making them run for cover. Watch out world - Sophie's got attitude!

Coffee Challenged

In a house where coffee rules, I am coffee challenged. Sure, I've known this for a while. Face it, my Granny put milk in her tea. That probably sealed the deal for me long, long ago.

I'm embarrassed to say I had an out-of-town house guest ask for directions to a local coffee house so she could get a decent cup of coffee. Reno, bless his heart, indulges my coffee preferences. Even though he likes his hot, thick, black, and 24/7 he will make flavored coffee for me.

In all honesty, his flavored coffee is way stronger than my flavored coffee. Being the pansy I am, I also add sugar and flavored creamer to mine. I know, all of Seattle is hurling at the thought of this. Plus it just isn't right unless it's in a pretty cup. The mish mash of sports mugs just doesn't cut it for me.

I discovered something else this morning. Not only do I like my coffee in equal parts, as described above, I usually only drink 1/2 to 2/3 of a cup. The rest I just carry around like a security blanket. It goes room to room with me, sometimes getting reheated. I just know in some third world country a poor soul would cut off his right arm for half a cup of good coffee. That half a cup, of course, being in my cup.

Many would claim I am desecrating good coffee. I beg to differ. I would bet if we put two cups of coffee on the floor, the dogs would drink mine before they would drink Reno's. They would drink mine and say "please, Mum, may we have some more". That extra half a cup of coffee would come in handy then.

Three Noses at The Door

It has been nearly 11 months since Kobe and Maddie crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I can't count the times we look at Hank and see a younger, less war torn version of Kobe. And, we often speak of our "little girl" Maddie with both joy and sadness. Since Sophie joined us, last January, it's been a different experience. I'm glad to say once again we have three happy noses at the door.

In fact, Sophie being so tiny does have a certain advantage. She can squirt between, or under Mick and Hank thus beating them to the door. Who is at the door first is not the same as who goes out the door first. Sophie may push her way to the front, but Hank beats her out of the gate every single time. Mick waits until the heathens have discharged like rockets out the door before he follows on their heels. Either he is much smarter and way more dignified than they are, or he's not competitive in the front door bolt-a-thon.

And yet, when hunting the yard Mick is the leader and they are the followers. Recently, Mick was ferociously hunting a tree frog who'd been frequenting the outdoor water bowl. While in the bowl, the frog had complete immunity. Once in the garden it was game on. Let me tell you, the WWF would have been impressed with Micks moves and tenacity. Hank follows behind as if to say "I've got your back Mick, I've got your back". "Hey Mom, what am I supposed to be doing with Mick anyway????" Sophie clearly is not hunting savvy yet, but she is learning from one master and a minor.

Of the three, Hank excels in being a sponge for human affection. On my lap is not close enough for Hank. Nor is it big enough for Hank. In the same vicinity of me works for Mick, and Sophie flits in and out like a butterfly. So different, and so alike.

However you look at it, there are three dogs at the door again. It pleases me to no end and I trust our dogs who've crossed the bridge approve with all their heart.

Slapped in the Face

I know - not your normal topic for me. In fact, I haven't the foggiest idea on how to work dogs into this blog. Maybe I will, maybe I won't.

Sometimes we get exactly what the title of this blog says. Funny how we never see them coming. Not so funny is what it does to our morale. Morale is such a tricky thing. When it's good, anything is possible and no effort is too much. When it's not good, enthusiasm gets mired down and desire fades in equal measure.

Even when you know you did the best you could, sometimes you get shot down. Hmmmmm, what can I say to make you/me feel better. You are not alone. This feeling won't last forever. You did the best you could with the information you had. They can just go take a big @ss flying leap into a large pile of dog shit. Oh wait, sarcasm overcomes me---but I did bring dogs into this blog!

It is what it is. And, man I hate that saying. Slaps happen. This too shall pass.

3 x 3

Math never adds up exactly like I think it will. Case in point. Three dogs plus three Kong's is more than the sum of it's parts.

This is a very good thing. The cooler temps have unleashed some rowdy dogs. Well, one little rowdy pointer girl who stirs the other two up. Basically, I think Sophie is making up for lost time. All those months with us, and perhaps years elsewhere, where she couldn't be a little wild child are coming to pass. She sometimes needs more channels for her energy than salmon need streams during spawning season. Or maybe, Hank & Mick are old farts who just don't play the same game she does.

But I digress from my mathematical analogy. Three dogs + three stuffed Kong's = unlimited chewing opportunities. The Kong someone else has is just a moment away from being your treat. They take turns with each one. Gotta love that entertainment value. Who knew a couple of dog biscuits and some peanut better would stretch so far.

The pups themselves are full of entertainment value. Add toys and treats and you get more than double the fun. See! More than double, more than 3 + 3. More than one could ever hope for.

Registering a Complaint

I, Sophie, being of sound mind and a resident of the state of NE would like to register the following complaint. I do not make these claims lightly. I don't do anything lightly. I want you to know I'm being tortured. The photo above is my evidence.

As you can tell from my posture I simply can't take any more. When the nice lady put the Gentle Leader on I reached my limit. I place my paw on the side of my crate to brace myself. Seriously??? A device around my muzzle? How much must a girl be expected to take? I gave her the look. But it didn't help.

Today, she took me out in public in it. It's supposed to help me walk nicely in public. To that I say - not so much. I'm sure I heard her say it was like wrestling a barracuda on a leash. Heheheeee....

Not only that she made me wear a vest that covers my lovely cow patches and the Gentle Leader. Jumpin Jehoshaphat it's horrible I tell you. This abuse makes Scary Man look like Mother Theresa.

I ask you this. How can this get up enhance my natural beauty? It can't. It's not fair and I want you to know it.

Sign, Sophie Who Ought Not To Be Treated Like This

Addictions

Hmmmmmmmmmm...... got you thinking? It has been suggested that I am addicted to Face Book. In fact, Reno has said more than once he is a FB widower. I'm not sure I can argue that, but the fact remains I must.

If that is true, and I am owning nothing at this point, he is also a canine widower. Because he often has to wade over or through dogs to get to me. Is this a bad thing - no!!

Basically, FB is my version of TV without the noise. It is the equivalent of football season all year round. It doesn't require brackets, playoffs or lines, ref's or overtime. Well, maybe just a bit of OT.

It keeps me connected, grounded and up-to-date. There are worse things I could be addicted too. Not saying I am, just saying there are worse things. I could be addicted to any one of a number of things that cost money, or waste money as the case may be. At least if I drink and play on FB I'm not a menace to society.

In my defense, I'm not on FB playing Farmville, or any other of the plethora of mind numbing games. I can walk away from it any time I want. Dang, it's hard to type that without laughing..... I could, really I could. But I probably wouldn't be gone long. Maybe it's really a good thing - who doesn't like to be connected to others? Well some people don't. Frankly I wonder about them.

So, if one had to define me they could say I'm a crazy dog lady, a foodie, a bling lover, a gardening fool, and a FB junkie. Sure, they could say it....and they may be right.