They say pet therapy visits are for the patients, but they definitely bring joy to the staff too. Actually it's a win-win for anyone who crosses paths with the dogs.
The social work team on the 7th floor has a special place in their hearts for the therapy dogs. And they have a special place under the desk with treats for these special dogs. They love Mickey. He's such a good boy.
Any self respecting dog owner will cringe when they hear blanket praise like that for their dog. Most of us know they are not little angels all the time. Micky had these ladies fooled until yesterday. Now Mick doesn't have much of a repetoire of tricks. Being cute takes him a long way, thank goodness. So after having to sit for a treat and shake for a treat they tried to get him to lay down for a treat.
Down has always been a hard command for Mick. Actually, we use the command "flat" for Mick. At home Mick has to go "flat" and wait for the release word before eating. Sometimes when you ask him to go flat you would think you were asking him to lay on a bed of nails. Other times, if you have a really tasty treat, he will literally throw himself into the flat position. Yesterday he wasn't going to go flat for love nor money.
I knew he could do it, they believed that I knew he could do it. Trouble is Mick has them trained and knew he could probably get away with not doing it. After much cajolling, Mick did go flat. Of course, he looked like a heathen with no prior training, so they are on to him now.
Just like that he went from Mick the angel, to Mick the bad boy. Personally I think he was working them just to get more treats. And, truth be told, they were working harder to get him to go flat, than he was to do it. Hehehe.....he's got quite a system going.
We flat out know he's not really a bad boy. No doubt he'll always get a few more treats just because flat is so hard for him. Way to work it Mick.
Life with dogs. A little humor, a dash of play, a seed of faith, and of course, some dog fur.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Stop and Smell the Roses
Most of us are familiar with the phrase.....take time to stop and smell the roses..... Lately, I've been altering that phrase. I'm taking time to stop and kiss Mr. Hanky. Truth be told, this is a good reminder for all of us to pause and appreciate, to lavish our love on those important to us.
Mr. Hanky has been with us not quite a year. Of late, there are noticeable changes in the leg his tumor is in. This of course brings out the many sides of me....the worrier, the nurturer, the optimist, and sometimes even the pessimist. All those "in the head" conversations. How much time is left? Have we used up all the good days? How do we keep him comfortable? How will we know when it's best to let him go? Knowing how stoic they are, is he hurting and we don't know it?
The logical side of me knows I can handle this. Knows it won't be easy, but can be done. The other side of me isn't so sure.
Until then I plan to stop and love up on the Hankster every chance I get. I'll accept this lesson to slow down a bit. To love up more. To laugh at his silly pointer antics. To tolerate the times he tramples me on the bed, and to disburse treats more generously.
Who knew the roses in life would come with cold noses and fur? At one time I may not have, but I do now.
Mr. Hanky has been with us not quite a year. Of late, there are noticeable changes in the leg his tumor is in. This of course brings out the many sides of me....the worrier, the nurturer, the optimist, and sometimes even the pessimist. All those "in the head" conversations. How much time is left? Have we used up all the good days? How do we keep him comfortable? How will we know when it's best to let him go? Knowing how stoic they are, is he hurting and we don't know it?
The logical side of me knows I can handle this. Knows it won't be easy, but can be done. The other side of me isn't so sure.
Until then I plan to stop and love up on the Hankster every chance I get. I'll accept this lesson to slow down a bit. To love up more. To laugh at his silly pointer antics. To tolerate the times he tramples me on the bed, and to disburse treats more generously.
Who knew the roses in life would come with cold noses and fur? At one time I may not have, but I do now.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Sturdy Chairs
I've been pondering the concept of sentimentalism. Now, I'm pondering if there is such a word as sentimentalism. You know what I mean.
This is how it's come into play. My siblings and I are sorting through Mom's house. Picking and choosing what we want and don't want. I find I am very sentimental, and a wee bit of a pack rat. List that in the category of understatements of the century.
Now, cleaning out a whole house has taught me to pitch things unmercifully. But when I get down to old china, bits of lace, vases, vintage jewelry and sturdy old chairs I'm a gonner. People keep saying the younger generation does not collect things like we do. I have to object to being lumped with the older generation. But, in reality, I guess I belong with that group. I know when I was the younger generation I could not find the value in these older items. Now that I'm older I do. Perhaps because I recognize that compared to the old things, I'm still a young thing. See? It can get complicated.
Thankfully Reno doesn't freak when I line up truck loads of sentimental items to bring home. Thankfully, the dogs love me regardless of what I do. Thankfully, I feel ties to this history.....and I indulge them.
This is how it's come into play. My siblings and I are sorting through Mom's house. Picking and choosing what we want and don't want. I find I am very sentimental, and a wee bit of a pack rat. List that in the category of understatements of the century.
Now, cleaning out a whole house has taught me to pitch things unmercifully. But when I get down to old china, bits of lace, vases, vintage jewelry and sturdy old chairs I'm a gonner. People keep saying the younger generation does not collect things like we do. I have to object to being lumped with the older generation. But, in reality, I guess I belong with that group. I know when I was the younger generation I could not find the value in these older items. Now that I'm older I do. Perhaps because I recognize that compared to the old things, I'm still a young thing. See? It can get complicated.
Thankfully Reno doesn't freak when I line up truck loads of sentimental items to bring home. Thankfully, the dogs love me regardless of what I do. Thankfully, I feel ties to this history.....and I indulge them.
Six O'Clock Sophie
Never fails. Miss Sophie wants to start her day between 6am and 6:30. And believe me there is a conspiracy going on.
I'll start to hear her whining in her crate. Then Hank The Tank will charge up the stairs and launch himself on to the bed,. Thank God we don't have a water bed! Hank's dive in would tsumani us right out of the bed. If that doesn't succeed at getting me moving, then Mickey does his part. His is a more subtle approach. I'll hear him come into the room. Yes, I can hear and sleep at the same time. He approaches my side of the bed and sits there. And sits there. And sit's there. If the stare down tactic fails for some reason, he will eventually put one paw on the side of the bed. He is a proper English gentleman if nothing else! Who could sleep though this I ask you??? Well, I could tell you, but names are being withheld to protect the innocent. Although I'm not sure why.
So on sleepy feet I'll get up and venture outside with the pups. I'm not complaining, but it is "mud season" here in the Midwest. Where once I was navigating (read skating) over ice and snow to take Sophie out, now I'm picking where I place my feet for the least muddy path to the potty zone.
After potty time and kibble time it's play time. When she is ready to play Ms. Sophie has more moves than Michael Jackson. This morning she was bound and determined to get Mick to play. As men will tell you, if a woman wants something, you don't stand a chance. Neither did Mr. Mick. So play they did.......finally. Where is that camcorder when I need it?
Which brings me to about two hours since the conspiracy to get me out of bed was initiated. They are sleeping.....full tummys, relieved from potty visits, and tired from play. Maybe I should go back to bed too.
I'll start to hear her whining in her crate. Then Hank The Tank will charge up the stairs and launch himself on to the bed,. Thank God we don't have a water bed! Hank's dive in would tsumani us right out of the bed. If that doesn't succeed at getting me moving, then Mickey does his part. His is a more subtle approach. I'll hear him come into the room. Yes, I can hear and sleep at the same time. He approaches my side of the bed and sits there. And sits there. And sit's there. If the stare down tactic fails for some reason, he will eventually put one paw on the side of the bed. He is a proper English gentleman if nothing else! Who could sleep though this I ask you??? Well, I could tell you, but names are being withheld to protect the innocent. Although I'm not sure why.
So on sleepy feet I'll get up and venture outside with the pups. I'm not complaining, but it is "mud season" here in the Midwest. Where once I was navigating (read skating) over ice and snow to take Sophie out, now I'm picking where I place my feet for the least muddy path to the potty zone.
After potty time and kibble time it's play time. When she is ready to play Ms. Sophie has more moves than Michael Jackson. This morning she was bound and determined to get Mick to play. As men will tell you, if a woman wants something, you don't stand a chance. Neither did Mr. Mick. So play they did.......finally. Where is that camcorder when I need it?
Which brings me to about two hours since the conspiracy to get me out of bed was initiated. They are sleeping.....full tummys, relieved from potty visits, and tired from play. Maybe I should go back to bed too.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Closed Doors
Sophie taught me a new lesson. They say that for every door that closes, another opens. In her case, two closed doors equal an open door.
She has two safe places in the house, her crate, and under my desk. If I'm downstairs, she's downstairs. If I'm upstairs she's upstairs. This evening I closed the door to her crate, and Reno closed the door to the office. Then we turned on a movie.
Low and behold Sophie came over to the sofa where I was sitting. First she stood next to me on the couch, then she sat next to me. Then she turned a couple circles and laid down. Ahhhhh, time on the sofa, next to the Momma - life is good.
Two closed doors is not necessarily a bad thing. In this case it is a wonderful new beginning.
She has two safe places in the house, her crate, and under my desk. If I'm downstairs, she's downstairs. If I'm upstairs she's upstairs. This evening I closed the door to her crate, and Reno closed the door to the office. Then we turned on a movie.
Low and behold Sophie came over to the sofa where I was sitting. First she stood next to me on the couch, then she sat next to me. Then she turned a couple circles and laid down. Ahhhhh, time on the sofa, next to the Momma - life is good.
Two closed doors is not necessarily a bad thing. In this case it is a wonderful new beginning.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
May I Get You A Drink?
Why yes, please, that would be delightful.
Most of us, most all the time, have only to walk to the kitchen, or the breakroom to get a beverage of our choice. Ohhhh.....I love beverages of choice. I'm fairly selective. Coffee in the morning, no more tha two cups. Water with lemon, any time of the day. Sweet tea during the summer, hot tea when I have a sore throat. Beer with pizza, margarita's with Mexican, Mojito's when it's summer, or wine, gin & tonics, hot chocolate. You know how that goes. I am exceedingly (and deliciously) well hydrated.
Now Ms. Sophie, chicken little that she is, has been slow to make use of the community water bowl. At first she wouldn't drink anything, then she'd lap at the snow outside, then she'd drink water in her crate. Today, in an act of braveness, she ventured into the kitchen for a drink from the dog bowl. Actually, her front legs were in the kitchen, her back were in the living room so she stretched as far as her little legs would take her.
It was impressive to know she was confident enough to do this. Such a good girl. I believe I shall toast her braveness. Cheers little Sophie.
Most of us, most all the time, have only to walk to the kitchen, or the breakroom to get a beverage of our choice. Ohhhh.....I love beverages of choice. I'm fairly selective. Coffee in the morning, no more tha two cups. Water with lemon, any time of the day. Sweet tea during the summer, hot tea when I have a sore throat. Beer with pizza, margarita's with Mexican, Mojito's when it's summer, or wine, gin & tonics, hot chocolate. You know how that goes. I am exceedingly (and deliciously) well hydrated.
Now Ms. Sophie, chicken little that she is, has been slow to make use of the community water bowl. At first she wouldn't drink anything, then she'd lap at the snow outside, then she'd drink water in her crate. Today, in an act of braveness, she ventured into the kitchen for a drink from the dog bowl. Actually, her front legs were in the kitchen, her back were in the living room so she stretched as far as her little legs would take her.
It was impressive to know she was confident enough to do this. Such a good girl. I believe I shall toast her braveness. Cheers little Sophie.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Record Time
It's possible Sophie may be adopted soon. No really, it's very possible. If so, that will be the shortest time ever a foster dog has stayed with us.
Other foster homes, in other locations, move them in and out faster that we do here in the Midwest. Pointer Rescue has the majority of it's placements on the East coast. But, there are pointer lovers all around the country. I have to laugh at the possibility that one of my fosters was adopted to the Big Apple and another may land on the left coast. I also have one in Mississippi, and one in New Mexico. My little Nebraska dogs get to see a lot of the world.
One always hates to see them go, and one always loves to see them go. It's definitely a mixed blessing. It never occurred to me that someday in life we'd be a "half-way" house for dogs lucky enough to get a second chance. For every dog who makes it into a foster home there were probably a dozen people in the background fighting on their behalf. They are the shelter workers, the rescue volunteers, the good Samaratan's that never hesitate to pick up a wandering dog on the side of the road, or a stray in their neighborhood.
It does take a village to raise a child. The village I belong to helps the pointers of the world. Sophie is a cherished member of our village. Albeit a very silly member. She still has a fascination with barking at the door. Sometimes she'll bark, then bite at it, then tuck and run when the door moves. It's pretty amusing to watch the process.
Truth be told fosters enter our hearts in seconds flat. While they may move on to another home, they never move out of our hearts. That's what we do in rescue.
Other foster homes, in other locations, move them in and out faster that we do here in the Midwest. Pointer Rescue has the majority of it's placements on the East coast. But, there are pointer lovers all around the country. I have to laugh at the possibility that one of my fosters was adopted to the Big Apple and another may land on the left coast. I also have one in Mississippi, and one in New Mexico. My little Nebraska dogs get to see a lot of the world.
One always hates to see them go, and one always loves to see them go. It's definitely a mixed blessing. It never occurred to me that someday in life we'd be a "half-way" house for dogs lucky enough to get a second chance. For every dog who makes it into a foster home there were probably a dozen people in the background fighting on their behalf. They are the shelter workers, the rescue volunteers, the good Samaratan's that never hesitate to pick up a wandering dog on the side of the road, or a stray in their neighborhood.
It does take a village to raise a child. The village I belong to helps the pointers of the world. Sophie is a cherished member of our village. Albeit a very silly member. She still has a fascination with barking at the door. Sometimes she'll bark, then bite at it, then tuck and run when the door moves. It's pretty amusing to watch the process.
Truth be told fosters enter our hearts in seconds flat. While they may move on to another home, they never move out of our hearts. That's what we do in rescue.
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