Dog-servations - aka random dog thots

Just when you think you have seen all the really gross things a dog can do they come up with one more. And while I can't complain, because it involved no clean up for me, I do have to laugh at the disgusting nature of it. If you are sitting down to breakfast as you are reading this, you may want to push your plate away.

Let me set the scene. Feeding time at the zoo involves four bowls with certain combinations of foods. The dogs wait somewhat patiently for the process to unfold. Kobe and Hank get their bowls first, then Maddie and Mick. Maddie has to sit and Mick has to be in a down position and wait for release. This morning as Maddie was waiting for Mick to get into position she horked up the yellow frothy stuff. Not uncommon for her as she has a bit of a tender tummy. This is the first time she's horked it into her food bowl. May I just say gross, gross and more gross! I was ever so happy to say, not my dog Reno, you deal with it. Actually, even grosser, Maddie took care of it. Yes, dogs are gross.

On a less revolting note, we are learning something new about Mr. Hanky. He is becoming a cold weather wimp. The last two mornings have been deliciously cool. Hank prefers not to leave the warmth of the house first thing in the morning when the others head out to piddle. Given the choice outside or inside, he races for his crate. I'm sure he's saying....no, really, I can hold it a lot longer......let me know when it's about 60 degrees.....I'll just be in my crate with my legs crossed.

And a little follow-up on Reno. Blessedly he has made almost a complete recovery. We see the neurologist tomorrow. His "illness" is still undiagnosed, but what matters is he has recovered. Thankfully, of so thankfully we rejoice in that. In many ways it has been a wake up call for us. Wake up calls, while often rude and surprising, bring with them graces and new opportunities.

In light of all our blessings, a little chilly weather and some dog vomit are pretty small potatoes. Sending you happy tails and happy trails on the road of life. And God Bless.

Spotting Old Dogs

So many ways I could go with this blog. Let's start with a bit of gratitude. Reno had a huge health scare over the weekend. He got sick while driving home from a fishing trip about 45 miles away. Somehow I knew instinctively it was a serious issue, so my son and I headed out to meet him. Of course, I thought he had stopped driving. Little did I know. But that's another story.

But back to the gratitude part. We came out of this very lucky. I know the big Guy upstairs had a hand in it, as did the boat load of prayers from our friends and family. We don't know what caused it, but in some cases one doesn't need to know.

We "spot" Kobe on the stairs all the time how. Age and arthritis make him unsteady on the stairs. He can go down, he just can't stop at the bottom. Well, he can stop at the bottom but much like a runner sliding into home plate. We try to protect him as best we can. Sliding is not recommended at his age.

Now I find myself spotting Kobe and Reno on the stairs. I wouldn't have it any other way. I know Kobe is snickering at Reno. Kobe is saying "he-he-he you old fart...how's it feel? He-he-he that will teach you to be so smug". And Kobe's favorite, "ha-ha-ha Mom loved me first!"

There is no one I'd rather spot than this spotted pointer, and my Reno. I am grateful for both. I delight in the goodness in their hearts, and for the opportunity to spot them along the bumpy parts in life.

Some things we need to know, some things we just trust our way through. Sometimes there is sliding, sometimes gentle hands reach out to spot us. Always there is love.

Turkey Tenderloins

We run a pretty tight ship around here with the dogs. Of course the 'ship' allows bed privileges and some furniture privileges. Now that I think of it, only Reno's chair is off limits as is the leather love seat. So it's not like they are roughing it by any means.

So when those times of gross, totally over the top rule breaking happen I'm all over it. In retrospect I usually wish I'd had the camera handy first to photograph the event. Such a moral dilemma. Catch that Kodak moment or give a timely (and well needed!) correction. I go for the correction. Now corrections are tricky things. One must, and I cannot stress this enough, sound like you mean business during the correction. On the other hand, sometimes curbing your amusement while giving the correct is almost impossible to do!

All that said, let me describe the gross, totally over the top misbehavior of my dear Mr. Hanky.
Remember, Pete? He was another foster dog of ours. Pete is famous for his love of Liver Treats OMG Liver Treats. Well, I discovered Hank's Achilles heel. For Hank it's Turkey Tenderloins OMG Turkey Tenderloins!

We grilled some TT's last night and had a late leisurely dinner on the patio. Reno is a master griller and his Weber kettle grill sees a lot of action. You can kinda see where this is going. He left the cover off the grill off last night.

I let dogs out this morning to "water" them before feeding time. All scampered back in except Mr. Hanky. I looked out the back window for him and there he was. Front paws up on the grill, licking the grates of the grill clean of any Turkey Tenderloin bits, pieces or juices. Yes, I realize this is a safety issue on multiple levels. So I went straight for the correction. A clap of the hands and a verbal scolding was all it took. Although I have to wonder if the touch of mirth in my voice may have given me away. It would have been a terrific picture you know?

So naturally I covered the grill. Next I looked out Hank had his paws up on the patio table in case one of us missed a morsel! Not bloody likely, but you can't blame him for trying. Another well timed correction given. Another Kodak moment missed.

Clearly we have discovered a passion of Hank's. Sometimes even dogs know temptation overrules the rules! I'm sure Pete would be proud of Hank. He'd be saying "Go for it dude. Live on the edge a little. Life is short, savour those mouth watering tenderloin moments." And you know, Pete would be right.

Career Choices

Thus far,I can say without a doubt, did not miss my calling as a nurse/doctor, an accountant , an attorney, a teacher, a life guard or a politician. When they passed out brains for those fields I was out to lunch.

As much as I love dogs, I have no desire to be a vet or a vet tech. As much as I love flowers, I don't want my own shop. Is it lazy to say I don't want to work that hard? I don't. Frankly, I don't want to work 40-50 hours a week. But I do love my job. I love the people I work with, within reason, or course.

I get paid for my job, but my vocations bring meaning to my life. Writing, dogging, gardening, being a parent, being a partner, a friend, supporting, laughing, praying. Those are my vocations.

Lest you think I get down on my knees to pray daily, I don't. But I have to believe those times I utter the words "oh God" in any context constitute prayer. There are many examples..."oh God, I've done it now, Oh God, what have I gotten myself into? Oh God, here we go again. Oh God, I wasn't expecting that! Oh God, could that person be any more stupid. Oh God! Oh God, Oh God. As in, well you know, Oh God!! Usage of that phrase is not a form of disrespect. Rather one of great respect. Who else does one turn to so immediately? Or at least so consistently!

Which brings me to this thought. We have all seen the Dog and God word plays. Coincidence, I don't think so. I believe in karma and dogma. I believe I would like to be half as good a person as my dogs think I am. I hope once and a while I hit that mark. Much like Kobe, Mickey and Hank all try to hit the same mark, I'd like to do the same.

Perhaps the key to succeeding in this it to keep after it. Like a dog with a bone, a springer with a ball, a lab in water. Dogged determination, unrelenting action, growing belief in our lives, our loves, our dogs and dogma.

All choices we have and vocations we love.

Chocolate Raspberry Coffee

I have a confession to make. I like flavored coffee. Reno - not so much, but he indulges me on this. I like flavored coffee with flavored creamer. Yup, I'm one of those people.

We, I, he, not sure which of us bought a bag of Chocolate Raspberry flavored coffee. One would have thought it would be another adventure in coffee consumption pleasure. Except, neither one of us really like it. It does get bonus points for fragrance. It is highly fragrant. But the taste, again, not so pleasing to us.

In fact, if Jesus had our bag of Chocolate Raspberry Coffee there would have been no need for the loaves and the fishes. Unless of course they too didn't like it, then no amount of loaves or fishes would have pacified them.

This bag of coffee has lasted forever. Literally, figuratively, biblically. It goes on and on. We should have dumped it in the compost pile a couple weeks ago. But no, the watchful consumer in us does not want to waste it. The early morning caffeine addict in us thinks we are nuts. We keep buying some "good" coffee and using up that. Then we'll brew another pot of the Chocoraspberry crap when we run out. Immediately we remember to put coffee on the list.

If find this all disturbing. Even more than the taste of this coffee, I am dismayed we don't like it. We love the components of these beans. Coffee - good. Chocolate - even better. Raspberries - delicious. And yet, somehow the end result is way less than the sum of it's parts.

Life is sometimes the best cup of Joe there is, and sometimes it's a bag of coffee that just never ends. Either way, it's interesting. Maybe I shall have to take drastic measures to get rid of the remaining coffee. I think I read somewhere coffee grounds were good for the roses. If that is true I'll be in the garden first thing tomorrow morning.

Last Best

I've been noticing the way I eat. Well, lately, I've wanted to eat everything in sight, but stress will do that to me.

I live by the last best bite theory. Maybe everyone does this. I don't know. I do know my last bite of anything is selectively chosen to be the best bite. For example if the choice was steak and potato's, the last bite would be steak. Or whatever the "best" is of the mix. One more chance to savor things....yummmm.

This would explain why if someone takes the last bite I would feel a huge rant coming on. Don't mess with my food, and don't take the last bite. I've worked hard to structure my meal so the best is left for last.

We do that, we save the best for last. This would account for the whole idea of dessert. Saving the best for last. Mom's especially will give the best to their kids, and then take what remains. Dogs are not like that at all. All they have to give is their best, and they do it day in and day out. Wish I was more dog-like in that aspect.

Think about your last best....... Is it food? Is it self care? Is it given with the joy of our beloved pets? We never know when our last best will be. Make it spontaneous, make it special, make it really nummy.

Fenced In or Out

Some time ago we put up a fence around the tomato plants. It was mostly to keep Mr. Hanky out. He had developed a taste for green heirloom tomato's. He had quite a field day pulling them off the vine and nibbling on them. So up went the fence.

It was, at best, a temporary fence. Two sides chicken wire, one side plastic fencing and the back was against the house. In the big plan it would have a gate for easy access. In reality I climbed over the plastic fencing part of it. It did what we wanted....at least as far as Hank was concerned.

I failed to consider Mickey. He is not a fan of tomato's. He had no interest in eating the cherry tomato's, the Better Boys, or the Heirloom variety. But, and there is always a but, tomato plants with many vines make a tantalizing venue for hunting bugs, snakes, perhaps a little rodent or two. Enter Mick, the consummate hunter.

Surprisingly he did not go over the fence. Between you and me we know he could have! He found a place to scoot under. When we busted him for that he got even more creative. He chewed an entryway in the plastic fencing. Supposedly that plastic fencing will keep deer out, but it will not out smart a hunting dog searching out a delectable cricket or two. Deer must be dumber.

Fences are tricky sometimes. They can keep us out, keep us in, or be just an obstacle to climb over, under or through. Mick didn't let it stop him. Hank? Well, his middle name is obviously not McGyver.