Musings, reflections, wisecracks from a somewhat creative mind

Posts tagged ‘good dog’

Stuff I am grateful for

I’ve seen several posts this morning where folks have listed things they are thankful for. Now I feel obliged to do the same. Here’s the short list:

My house with a roof that doesn’t leak (anymore)

My job which is part of a joyful, service-oriented enterprise, and my manager who leads me well

My Mom from whom I continue to learn (but she doesn’t realize it)

The rest of my family including my friends (you know who you are) from whom I continue to learn and who are vastly entertaining

My co-workers from whom I continue to learn and who are also vastly entertaining

Old friends and new friends

My neighbors – Xtreme entertainment (and fine folks and friends)

I am relatively healthy considering I’m barely trying (I ought to)

My car which is fun to drive and still runs despite my ignoring basic maintenance lately

My new kitten, Gracie, who is simultaneously a trial and a joy – she makes me laugh!

My sainted dog, Chloe, who is loyal and loving and mindful of my wishes including the one that says “Don’t hurt that gremlin kitten!”

The public library

Alarm clocks (really)

Coffee-makers

The sun and the clouds and the sky, the breeze and the odor of sea water

Birds chattering

Cinnamon

Fans (the blowy kind)

Generosity and generous souls

My Mother’s handyman

Bacon

Downtown Dunedin

Being an American

Cheese

Chocolate

The guy who mows my yard (even though he butchers the honeysuckle by my mailbox)

Humor, most kinds

There’s plenty more. Just can’t think of them.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!

The Many Hats of Kitteh

Now at 4½ months, Gracie Lou is discovering (or revealing) her many talents, abilities and, yes, jobs. She’s practicing for a career in something. I’m not sure what. Some possibilities:

A career in home décor – She appears very motivated. I’m not sure she’ll go very far with this since she seems to like most things on the floor. For example, kitteh décor dictates that towels do not belong on towel racks: they belong on the floor. Other “floor should be’s”: pillows, eyeglasses, phones, magazines and hairbrushes. Also, contrary to what I thought I knew, window blind slats do not need to align and pet toys SHOULD litter the floor, the location changed often and without warning. As she matures a better career move for Gracie might be to move toward window treatments and, hopefully, away from this “floor thing”.

Massage therapist – I believe the instructions to other kittehs would read “While the subject lies facedown, walk up the subject – from foot to neck and head – gently extending the claws so as not to injure but certainly to hurt a bit and annoy. The subject comes awake very quickly after this procedure.”

This won't hurt a bit ...

House cleaner – I only mention this potential career because kitteh is adept at finding dust bunnies. Her follow through is poor. She does not throw them away. Perhaps she needs a small dustpan with a tiny wastebasket.

 

Just a cute shot.

Dog herder – This requires the saintly cooperation of Chloe, the perfect dog. Gracie accomplishes dog herding by utilizing her kitteh claws and teeth, wrapping her kitteh “arms” around Chloe’s leg and gnawing on it. Chloe moves the leg. Kitteh persists. And so on. Kitteh becomes very enthusiastic about this at times which requires my intervention because Chloe gives me the “Make! It! Stop!” look.

Athlete / Gymnast – This is hardly unusual for a kitteh but I must mention it. Among her best feats: climbing a bare wall.

Magician – Kitteh is especially good at the disappearing and reappearing act where you are looking for her frantically because you are afraid she somehow escaped the house. She must be in “thin air” because I can’t find where she hides.

These aren’t her only career choices but they certainly are “the big six”. Stay tuned.

Schweet kittehs

So the kittehs are not all bad, you know. A friend today remarked at how I had been referring to “the kittens” as pests, homewreckers, a nuisance … He kindly didn’t use those words yet it is true. He was not mistaken. So let me set the record straight.

It’s my humor which misleads. It is my way of blogging – usually. My thoughts are also true. But this is not all.

The kittehs are precious and sweet and they make me joyful MUCH more than they make me anything else. The are a privilege to care for.

(They are also going to be gone by this weekend if I’m to host the houseguests I intend to host next weekend. No kitten wants to be squashed underfoot and no human wants to smell litterbox.)

So here, therefore, are some phrases and vignettes:

  • The other evening as I left them for the bedroom, each one in turn came to me for a scratch and a smooch.
  • Pepe has sat on my shoulder and purred into my ear. (DARling.)
  • Spot follows me around the house.
  • One of them reaches for me under the door in the morning.
  • They all trust and seek out Chloe.

And so here, therefore, are some photos of the little ankle biters in their most angelic aspects.

Kitten Urchins …

… Elves, Gremlins and Scamps

When I first brought home this box o’ kitties, I referred to them in a high pitched voice as little darlings, “so cute!”, and “so little!”. Chloe was clearly delighted to have these small bundles of entertainment in the house.

They've breached the wall!!!

However, once they breached the X-pen “wall” into my living room I began to realize just how mistaken my characterizations might be. I learned over the next few hours that the only thing which can stop an inquisitive and determined kitten is a bonafide door and one that latches tight.

They may be little but size does not matter. Nothing is sacred to these little dickens. One has gotten itself tangled in my hair. Another squirt has dangled from a window drape. *grrrr*

 

 

 

Evil kitteh TOGO

The scamps have chewed (unsuccessfully, whew) wires in my office. I put up a baby gate and looked at them saying “I know this is a mere suggestion to you …” At least I hear when they climb it and can intervene.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ginny, Hell on Wheels

One of them, Ginny, is a holy terror who attacks her litter mates and bites and chews them! If I hear squealing it’s probably Ginny gnawing on Spot or TOGO.

 

 

 

 

 

Jackanapes

 

Then there are the little claws …

Pepe le Pew

Ankle biter Spot and Chloe the Giantess

Many lovely moments remain though:

They love to nestle with Chloe or let her maul them with her snout.

All four of the little waifs were waiting for me outside my bedroom door this morning.

The floor show is always a hoot.

You should be dancin' - YEAH!!

I loved my Amber-poodle

Letting you all know (because I suspect you’d want to know) – I’ve had to send my darling and brave Amber-girl to heaven. I’ll not distinguish between human and doggie heaven, partly because I’d like to end up in both.
She was a 17 years-old, still gorgeous, still noble … an insolent 12 pound, fluffy and curly-white bundle of dog. I believe she could have tamed lions, given the chance. In the 70’s, Helen Reddy would’ve been proud. Amber was a true feminist.
Aging: Most of us will end up in a place with which we are not familiar. That place is indistinct, confusing, frustrating, frightening … because we are unable to recognize it and process it due to our failing vision and hearing, thought processes, ability to move comfortably, and probably more that I can’t know at my tender age.
I finally realized Amber was THERE. Standing, swaying, and staring at the wall without a purpose is not dignified. Amber was, if anything, dignified – and defiant – during her life. The Vet agreed. We wanted to give her a Viking funeral.
We gave her what we could – a shot in the “arm” and a loving farewell.
Amber will remain a legend in my memory. She was … a true Princess.

HRH Princess Amber

A Dog Never Lies About Love

What can one say about a dog like Max?

  • He was first and foremost utterly devoted to me. He jumped into my arms the first time we met. (He was 6 years-old then.) He never wavered. Ever.
  • He was a tenacious protector of his home. You couldn’t stop the barking barking barking. Once he lost most of his hearing … well … he was still the protector. He just didn’t perceive the threats. Like the mail truck, the squirrels, the stray falling leaf …
  • He ADORED his treats. He would get nearly apoplectic when treat time rolled around.
  • He knew how to spit out the food he didn’t want a leave it all over the house.
  • He knew where I was at every moment – followed me around the house. OR he preceded me, creating a potential fall accident.
  • He was always moving – licking, pacing – unless he was sleeping.
  • He snored.
  • He would tuck his head up under my chin and press his little body up against mine. It was so affectionate and endearing.
  • He was a breast man. He loved to sit in my lap and “brundage”. Snort snort.
  • He was happy! Joyful!
  • He was curious, inquisitive. How many times did he stand in a lap with his little head 2 inches from the face and stare into the eyes with this look of total curiosity. Those dark, sparkling eyes were beautiful.
  • He was a spark, a bright light, a star.
  • He was the moon to my earth. The earth to my sun.

I had him put down this afternoon. He had suddenly gotten old. He’d been terminally ill but maintained with medications. Then the cataracts surfaced and bloomed. He couldn’t handle not seeing well. He was confused and frustrated. It was his time.

The veterinarian, Kathy Murphy, and her staff were WONDERFUL. Very understanding and caring. Kathy snipped a lock of his hair for me. I loved his scent. Now I’ll have it when I need a dose.

He’ll live in my heart forever.

Rest in peace, Boy-o. 

Becoming acquainted with your tennis ball toy

Nonchalantly wait for the ball to play with me.

Nonchalance aside, stare at the ball.

Address the ball(?)

Kiss the ball! MWA!

Touch ...

... rub and otherwise molest ball.

Chew!

Fun ball!

Run with ball! Fun!