Counting

Four, count 'em, four mice so far.  The buffet has been reduced to just dessert.  Come and get it boys, have we got a surprise for you.

I'm also counting the days until the bathroom tile is done.  No, I'm not complaining.  I think Reno looks pretty sweet in his knee pads and tool belt.  Yes, he wears more than that, jeans, shirt etc.  He's been working like crazy on it.  I for one, have a greater appreciation of how much stuff a woman uses in the course of the day.  That's because it's all in a card board box on top of his sink in his bathroom. 

Sophie is counting  the days too.  All the construction apparatus gives her much to bark about.  Right now she's barking at a box in the hallway and the plunger.  She knows that box (and plunger) don't belong there any more than the mice belong in the basement. 

One of my readers suggested that I should be happy the visiting creatures are mice and not rats.  Dang!  I love her optimistic thinking.  She's right!  Sure is nice to know I can count on friends to encourage me this way.  I can count on Reno to finish my bathroom, and I can count on Sophie to bark at boxes, doors, and bathroom plunger.  I think we have all the bases covered.  In fact, I'm counting on that.

Fine Line

There is a fine line between many things.  For example, the ridiculous to the sublime.  From right and wrong, from sane and insane.  Many things are fine and many times we walk the line.  Other times we draw a line, or stand in line.  So many ways to view life. 

Right now we have three dogs and some other critters in the house.  Okay, as much as I hate to say it, we have a mouse in the house.  Maybe more than one?  Who knows, but I don't much care for it.  It's our fault for providing such a appetizing buffet for this little critter.  And truly, I know it's probably been a rough winter for the mice as much as for man. 

Now Hank was astute enough to give me a visual clue of where the mouse was.  He didn't, however, feel like trying to catch it.  Hate to break it to Hank, but I can stand in the corner and cock my head sideways listening for little scrambling noises too. Although he does look infinitely cuter when he does it! 

Traps have been set and placed safely away from nosy pointer noses.  One hostage has been taken so far - whoohoo.  A warning to the little critters, your days are numbered.  Your last meal will be served with a side of peanut butter.  Although part of me loaths hurting any animal, the rest of me is fine with it.  Line up little mouse the good treats are behind the furnace. 

Potty With Ms. Sophie

Potty forays are interesting with Ms. Sophie.  She has a routine of sorts, and frankly, she doesn't exactly stop to smell the roses.  This time of year it's not a bad thing.  Sometimes I have a hard time keeping up with her as she zips out and then zips in.

She has her "area" which is anywhere between the raise garden bed and the patio.  She likes the patio, but that makes me wonder if perhaps she's never pooped on grass before. Not that she can experience grass this time of year of course.  We know it's there somewhere, but we've had snow on the ground since December 3rd, and it's not going anywhere soon. 

She still gets spooked if something disturbs her potty preparations.  Potty is a one shot deal with Sophie.  There is no circling around and resettling for action once disturbed.  If something spooks her, and most everything does, she heads for the door.  If she could talk I'm sure she'd say, "hang on Mom, I'm making a run for it".

I did comment to Reno that she has more fears than I do.  His response was that I have more issues than than the Encyclopedia Britannica.  I'll take that as a compliment.  But, face it, all of us have fears and issues.  We all have to trust enough to relieve ourselves, be it physically, mentally or emotionally.  All of us get spooked sometimes.  Sometimes we bark to frighten off whats scaring us, sometimes we shut down, sometimes we book it for the door like Sophie does.

I do wonder, whenever I look at this little peanut of a pointer, what life was like for Sophie.  And then, I give thanks that whatever it was, it's not like that now.  We'll work on our issues together and we'll both be braver for it.  Eventually, she'll potty and then stop the sniff the wind, nose the ground for yummy scents,  just plain frolic, or lay in the sun and just be.  That may be a long way off, but were closer today than yesterday.

Move Over

In the last day Ms. Sophie has made surprising progress.  She visited me in the bathroom, in the master bed room, and up on the sofa.  Pretty impressive, I know!  Of course I balance that with the reality that she also barked at the door stop, the computer cable and the cabinet door left partly ajar.   She's not all rocket scientist.  But, then neither am I.   Shhhhh, don't tell anyone that.

I did have to tell Hank move over and make room for Sophie on the sofa.  He wasn't exactly thrilled with that.  There is room on the sofa for me and three pointers.  Just not if they all want right next to me.  Hank only wants right next to me (leaning, pressing, pushing) like there is some umbilical cord linking us.  Mickey is more I'll be down at the end snoozing, with one eye he checks to see if I'm there, and that's good enough for him.  Sophie, aka AnySuddenMoveSophie, wanted to be there, but was in the up on the sofa, down on the floor, up on the sofa, oh, should I really be there?, down on the floor mode. 

Made me ponder all the times in life we have to move.  Move over and make room, move forward, move back, move up, move before we're ready, move on, make a move.   Some moves are based on trust, some are fear based.  Some moves are filled with faith. 

Sophie's move was way greater than the distance from the floor to the sofa.  Moves towards love usually are. 

Progress

Sophie is progressing.  Oh, don't get me wrong, she still has a ways to go. 

She potties well for us.  Each time though she moves a little further from her original potty place.  She started by the raised garden that we plant tomatoes.  Over the month she's moved all the way to the patio.  I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to shovel the patio this spring.  I keep trying to send subliminal messages that we have a whole yard and not just 12 or so feet between the raised bed and the patio.  She is a creature of habit.  If something disturbs the potty process, a barking dog, a human voice, a siren in the distance, that's it for the elimination process.

She also ventured into our bedroom this morning to see me.  I saw her peeking at me from the hallway and called to her.  She gingerly made her way in to me.  That's a first, and oh so brave of her.  Good girl Sophie.

Progress of another kind is happening too.  I really think I'm seeing visual changes in Hanks tumor.  I hate even writing that.  He's been with us for almost a year.  In Hank year's it's been the best ever.  He was found near death, was nursed to "health" by gentle people in rescue, and found a forever foster home.  He wants for nothing, and all I want is for his comfort, today and in the days ahead.

So there you have it.  Progress is a good thing, and progress can be a thing of sorrow.  We see some of each.  And in each there is cause for celebration. 

Moving Right Along

At first, you had to coax Ms. Sophie out of her crate.  Okay, sometimes it was a outright challenge to get her out of her crate.  Sometimes she still hides out in there.  But when I head upstairs to the office, these days she's passing me on the stairs and beating me into the room.  Now in some ways under my desk is like another crate for her.  Still she's choosing to be with me/us instead of the solitude of her crate.  Baby steps, I'm seeing baby steps.

This morning, as I was loving up on her while she was under my desk, her tail was wagging like she didn't have a worry in the world.  You gotta love when a dog forgets their fears enough to just be a dog again.

Dog's in their natural state are warmth personified, or should I say canine-ified.  What a blessing, for dogs and humans, to be able to get out of their brain enough to just exist and be happy.  It is what we are all looking for - simple coexistence.  It's trusting enough to release a thousand fears.  It's letting go and letting Dog, or God for that matter.  It's simply being, and being simple.  It's moving right along....just like Sophie is doing.

Hypothetically speaking, when was the last time you let go enough to let your tail wag?  If it's been a while take a couple baby steps in that direction right now.  You'll do fine.

Tastin Bacon

Sophies new residence of choice is underneath my computer desk.  It's like a crate, but without doors, it's heated, which her crate is not.  And, it's at the Mommy's feet.  Plus she can keep one wary eye on the Foster Dad because one never knows what he might do next.

I offered her a nibble of bacon this morning.  Mick was watching quite intently.  Well, perhaps saying he was about to come out of his skin was more like it.  She lipped it like she was going to take it gently from my hand.  Then she lipped it again just enough to roll it off my fingers to the floor.  From there she picked it up and mouthed it.  She set it back on the ground as if she wasn't really sure that a) it was really for her, or, b) wasn't sure it was completely edible.  Again she picked it up and mouthed it, maybe just savoring the saltiness of it.  Again, she set it down.

Mick was still watching the process. Although I'm certain one could visibly measure his level of angst over it.   If he could talk no doubt he was saying "holy freakin Batman Sophie eat that piece of bacon before I have a heart attack!!"  Or, "I'm counting to three dangit, then I'm going in for it."  "One does not treat bacon like that, it is a gift from the heavens, quit testing it and snarf it down, here let me show you."   However, he stood still and didn't act like a bacon heathen.

Finally she picked it up into her mouth and began to chew on it.  I think she was following the recommended number to chews (23 I think) before swallowing.    Mick was still hoping it would be surrendered to him so he could show her how swiftly things like bacon can be consumed.

But it was not Mick's day for tastin' bacon.  It was Sophie's day and she did good. 

For all the times we wolf down our food, or gloss over our graces, she gave us a valuable lesson.  Savor the delicious morsels that come in all shapes and sizes.

Smart girl Sophie.