We had so much fun!

I took the dogs to a nearby dog park today.

And by "nearby" I mean a 30-minute drive to the next county. Totally worth the drive, though. Even with a hound dog breathing down my neck.

Ladybug and Gunnar ran and ran and ran and played and ran with, at one point, four other dogs - all of them of the designer "doodle" breed, like Labradoodle and Goldendoodle. Gorgeous dogs. Big dogs. I kinda' felt like I had the misfits of the bunch, but Ladybug was so well-behaved and Gunnar charmed the other dogs' people with his handsomeness.

Enough dogs and people came and went that my dogs stayed busy and happy for a good hour and a half. When I got them back in the truck their typical roles were reversed as Gunnar was pooped out and ready for a nap, but Ladybug was uber excited and still bouncing all over the place.

"Mom. Make her stop."

 Here I think Gunnar has actually fallen asleep on Bug's backside.

Look at that smile!

"Are we home yet? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

And poor Gunnar finally gave up and sacked out.

We're all gonna' sleep good tonight!

Road trip!

If I let my children live through the evening ... *ahem* ... we will be leaving before the crack of dawn to drive to Pennsylvania for a long weekend with Steve.

I can't wait to see him!!

The key is making it through the next few hours when Sam and Rachel are excited, bouncing off the walls - and each other - and I am thinking about how I'm going to get everything packed, get some sleep, not leave the house in a shambles, and make it through a 12-ish-hour drive tomorrow without my two offspring driving me crazy.

And now, I will let Ladybug and Patch the Kitty demonstrate what I hope to be doing tomorrow night at about 8 o'clock:

Dontchya just wanna' rub Patch's belly?

Have a great weekend, folks. See you next week!

I am not a dog whisperer.

But Dear God in Heaven do I need one.

My dog - despite my love for her and the wonderful companionship she provides - makes me crazy sometimes. Just when I think I've got her figured out, or that she's finally mellowing out, she throws me for a loop.

Ladybug has always been a barker, but for two main things: people and raccoons. Bring over a pack of dogs of any size and breed and she will run and jump and sniff and play with all of them. Excitedly. Without barking.

People? She barks at. Always. (Well, except us.) A strange vehicle pulls in the driveway and Ladybug either runs to the end of her lead (if she's outdoors) and barks non-stop, or runs to a window to get a better look ... and barks non-stop.

Oh, and? She slobbers. So you can imagine what my windows look like.

She's persistent, too.

I know you iz out der.

I iz watchin' fer you.

Where you at?

The other day while the plumbers were here I was so embarrassed by my own dog's behavior that I decided I had two options: 1) give up on this doggy business and find her a new home, or 2) commit to some serious training. Or retraining. Whatever.

Since 90 percent of the time she is The Best Dog In The World, I went for option 2 and bought a book about rehabilitating your "reactive" dog. Because as it turns out, as I was reading about reactive dogs - dogs that become fixated on other dogs, or people, or go bonkers when put on a leash, or can't seem to settle down in the car - I realized I was reading about my dog.

I iz tyred. But pretty sure you still out there.

Some history: we adopted Ladybug from a no-kill shelter. I picked her out from hundreds of dogs I saw on-line. When we went to visit her she was so laid back and came right to us when the volunteer dropped her leash. We took her for a walk and she pulled a bit, but otherwise she was great.

We learned that she was about five years old, had been picked up as a stray and had been at the shelter for six months. Black dogs aren't adopted as often as lighter colored dogs, they told us. My heart melted.

At home it took her a while to settle in, which we expected. She seemed a little jumpy over loud noises and quick movements. Bug wasn't housebroken (I suspect as a hunting dog she was kept outside in a kennel) so it was like having a puppy; we house trained her, and I trained her to sleep in a crate. Neither of those tasks was a small feat and I spent several nights falling asleep with my mp3 player drowning out the noise of her whining in the crate.

Bug has a few bad manners, mostly involving food. We have learned to never leave her in the house alone with an open bag of trash. And never leave your snack unattended on the arm of the sofa.

She has learned a few things in the three years she has been with us. She sits at the door for you to put her leash on for a walk, and sits and waits for you to put her food in her dish. She has warmed up to the cats. She goes right to her crate when I tell her it's bedtime. 

But she flips right out when a strange vehicle pulls in the driveway, or when people she doesn't know come into the house. Or approach the house. Or look in the direction of the house from a mile away.

I have learned that if I put her on her leash and allow her to sniff out the strange peeps, she will eventually settle down. (Makes sense - she's a hound. Sniffing is her life.) But honestly, she is a very muscular dog of a breed historically trained to hunt bear. She can look pretty intimidating when she's tugging at the end of her tie-out, barking and slobbering. Who wants to then let that animal sniff their hand?

It's a survival mechanism. Her head tells her strange creatures might be there to hurt her, so she's going to take care of them first. Scare them off. If they seem intimidated her senses pick up on that and it feeds the beast. She gets stressed when her barking doesn't make them go away, so that feeds the beast. And so on and so on.

It's gotten so bad lately that she sometimes barks when the phone rings. Or in the morning when the house creaks and groans as the sun warms it up.

I wish I was kidding.

In other words, I have a 59-lb wuss on my hands. One that could be dangerous (as any dog could) if we don't turn this train around.

So I have begun a new regime. First, Bug is on vacation. She's doing nothing but sleeping, eating, going outside to do her business and take walks with me. She's chillin' to give those stress hormones a chance to fizzle out. And I'm giving her lots of love and attention, she's playing with the kids, and she's getting treats just about as often as I say her name. I've even been feeding her her kibble out of my hand. She's learning mama=good and safe and fun things and the sound of her name=good and safe and fun things. Very zen, right? Let's hope so.

It sounds crazy, but I can already see the difference in her. She's much calmer already. I can tell she's a little confused and maybe even a little suspicious of all the treats flying around, but that's ok.

I'm gonna' journal our progress and I'll update here.

Have I mentioned my lack of the patience gene? Yeah?

Send some good vibes our way, k? I am up to the task but some added positive thoughts sure can't hurt.

Lots of leaves. No plumber.

So here I am with scaly skin waiting on the plumber who was supposed to be here to install our water softener yesterday. Way to feed the stereotype of Plumbers Who Never Show Up, eh?

Meh. It's fine. I'm just glad it was a simple human error (his, not mine) of writing the task on the wrong date instead of some really big problem. So he apologized and promised he'll be here this morning.

My crusty faucets and I are counting on it.

Meantime, some colorful pictures like *I* promised.

This is what I see outside my back door. Looks like a bowl of Fruit Loops.

My burning bush, relocated last year to somewhere it would get more sun.

Lots of variety here ... I believe some of the orange leaves are of a sassafras tree.

Bright red berries on a bush. These are everywhere.

 Pink(ish)!

 Yellow!

 Pretty ...

 More yellow along the driveway. Lots of Popple trees.

 Ferns.

 Pointy leaves of a Sumac. We have lots of these around here, too, and they provide SO much color through the fall.

I was trying to show the color of trees surrounding the house, but the blue sky kinda' takes center stage here.

 Still a few bright spots in the front yard.

Mums! Gotta get these in the ground so I can enjoy them next year.

And I couldn't resist a shot of Ladybug sacked out in the leaves. She was so content, I think if I hadn't walked over there to pet her she would've been covered in them before long.

Look - she already had a couple stuck to her chin. *snicker*

Happy Tuesday!

Morning views.

A friend and I have been walking in the mornings after I get my kids off to school. I would say we're out there fairly early, but early is a relative term, isn't it?

Hey, 7:30 a.m. is early for me, the one whose favorite morning activity is ... sleeping.

And we've been taking our dogs. Which, if you need to get off your butt and you're looking for an accountability partner? Yeah. The dogs know when it's time to walk and they will not let you forget it.

Anywho. We've been admiring how the trees and shrubs and even the roadside weeds have been changing colors recently, so today I stopped a few times to take pictures of the different berry-covered bushes and whatnot.

I discovered I really need to go out with the sole purpose of photographing pretty things if I want the pictures to do any of them justice. "Here, hold my dog, would ya'?" while dusting the Kleenex lint off the screen of my camera phone is not the way to do it.

Ah well. Another day.

 

I did get these shots, though, which were pretty cool originally but really cool after I applied a sepia tone in my photo editor.

 

See? Sunrise photos. I told ya' it was early!

Bug's Big Day.

I took Ladybug to the groomer today. Mostly to have her nails clipped because she won't sit still for me to do it and I'm always afraid I'll hurt her. And since she was going I figured she might as well get a bath, too.

This was her first trip to a groomer.

Now she smells like almonds and she doesn't have Pterodactyl Toes anymore.

Lookit. Isn't she sweet? I think she's saying "thank you mama for takin' me to the shampoo lady I had so much fun can we go again someday and can I have a treat please?"

It must have been pretty exciting because we haven't been home for long and she's already sacked out on her fluffy bed. Hard work being so cute, I guess.

Happy Friday!

Why I let the dog sleep on our bed. Sometimes.

One of the struggles of the life we lead is having to figure out how to do just about everything long-distance.

Parenting. Budgeting. Encouraging each other. Consulting on vehicle and home repairs. Keeping each other posted on things of note. Saying goodnight.

Comforting each other. (This is where the dog comes in.)

It's been difficult to not have Steve here to hug me when I really need it lately. I know he's been concerned about me and how I am holding up as my grandmother's failing health has all but consumed my days. I keep telling him I'm OK. At least as OK as a person can be when they're losing a loved one.

Oh, I have my moments. Late one night when I couldn't sleep I had my own little sobfest. My heart hurts a little every time I walk through the kitchen and see grandma's extra set of eyeglasses sitting on the counter. I pause when I rifle through my purse for lunch money for the kids and one of the items I set aside is grandma's coin purse - the coin purse she would so lovingly pull a $20 bill from to pay for lunch on the days I took her out.

I took her to have her hair done and we went out to lunch just two weeks ago. Now she's not really eating at all.

Two weeks ago I would hold her hand to keep her steady while she walked from point A to point B. Now we hold her hand while she lies in bed and fades in and out of lucidity.

It was so recently that I hung a picture of grandma on the door of her room so everyone would know this is where you could find Leona. Now she hangs in the balance and all we can do is tell her we love her and that it's OK to leave this room, this world, this life.

Sad? Yeah. Of course it is. But there are so many blessings in this, and I am thankful. One of those blessings is that Steve is doing what he is doing so I can be here at home. I have had the opportunity to care for my grandma and visit her often and spend the most amazing weeks with her, all because Steve's job provides well enough for us that I can be a homemaker.

Steve has given me the gift of time, and I love him for it.

Yes, it stinks that I can't just come home and ask him to hold me while I process all these emotions. But we do what we can. Writing here - writing anywhere - is therapeutic for me. And last night Steve and I had a great conversation via on-line chat (because for whatever reason sometimes that's just easier than talking on the phone) and he helped me sort through some of my feelings and let me vent my frustrations. And he made me laugh. And cry. Both of which I really needed.

We do what we can, and we enjoy the times we are together. When we're not together we figure out ways to make our marriage and life in general work for us. It involves a lot of prayer, a lot of communication with each other, a lot of give and take, and many supportive friends and family members.

There are times when I'm absolutely fine and I sail through the days, and there are times when I feel like my boots got stuck in the mud and I just can't take it anymore.

Either way, good days or bad days, The Pipe Life or some other kind of life, I can't imagine navigating through it with anyone else. For the blessing of such a wonderful partner, I am eternally grateful.

And yes, for the goofy hound dog who always turns three circles before she can lie down, the one who twitches and whines in her sleep while she dreams of treeing raccoons, the one who will sniff at my hair and then sneeze in my ear ... for the comfort of having some warm, breathing being curled up next to me, I am thankful.

I think Steve will forgive me for occasionally allowing Ladybug to sleep on the bed with me. I promise I don't let her use his pillow.

Could somebody help me out here?

Before I lose my ever-lovin' mind?!?

Ladybug tips her food dish over every time she eats. 

Every. Time.

See that? I hollered at her and she's all, "What? Can't a girl eat in peace?"

I thought maybe she was being picky and tipping the dish so she could eat her favorite pieces of kibble first, but she still tipped it when I fed her a different kind of food that all tastes the same. (At least it all looked the same. I didn't taste it.)

And she does eat all the food off the floor eventually, no matter what kind we give her, so it's not like she's refusing certain flavors.

I'm really getting annoyed with the sound of that metal dish clanging across the kitchen floor, not to mention stepping on random pieces of chow that manage to get kicked all over the house.

What is up with her? She's done this since we brought her home a year and a half ago.

Fortunately she doesn't do this with the water dish. But if I can't get her to stop I'm gonna' stick her food dish to the floor with poster putty.

Or maybe I'll eliminate the dish and start throwing the food at her. OUTSIDE.

Oh! Like spreading feed for chickens! That might not be so bad!

But seriously. I'm open to suggestions on how to get her to stop. Got any?

Coffee, anyone?

Dear Children,
Four o'clock in the morning is a bad time. Whatever it is, if you are not bleeding all over the place or near death, please don't wake me to tell me about it. Waking mom at 4 a.m. violates the Pipe Life Household Code of Conduct. Frequent violations could result in random bouts of tears and blubbering from any one of us throughout the day, of which mom just doesn't have the time or patience to deal with. She has Things To Do.

Furthermore, please do not complain that someone else got to the last of the milk before you did. The early bird gets the worm, my dear sweet babies. Perhaps if you hadn't been wandering around the house at 4 a.m. you would have had the energy to get out of bed when mom said it was finally time at 6.

Please, kindly adhere to the rules and everyone can live happily and harmoniously. But only between the hours of 6 a.m. and 9 p.m. Mom makes no guarantees of happiness nor harmoniousness prior to 6 or after 9.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Love you!
Mom

And while we're at it ...

Dear Dog,
Seven o'clock on a Saturday morning is too early. If I don't have to go to the bathroom at that hour, neither should you. I will happily take you for a nice, long walk after 8 a.m. by which time I will have had at least one cup of coffee.

Saturday is my only day to sleep in until the kids are out of school for the summer. Waking me early on Sleeping In Day is a violation of the Pipe Life Household Code of Conduct. Please don't do it again tomorrow like you did last weekend.

The couch is still mine, by the way.

Stop giving me those sad eyes.
 
Love you!
Mom

P.S. Thank you for not wanting to go potty this morning at 4.

Our Bug is back!

Ladybug came home to us Saturday afternoon after spending two frigid nights outdoors alone and one cushy night in the presence of a loving family with four dogs of their own.

The family who found her are from the Detroit area and were here at their cabin enjoying some snowmobiling. They told us that one of the guys, Randy, almost hit Ladybug while they were out riding Friday night. She had been curled up in a ball in a snowbank and just lifted her head when they zoomed by. When Randy realized it was a dog he almost hit, he told his buddies he couldn't leave that dog out there in the cold. They all turned back and began a 45-minute process to coax Ladybug to come to them so they could help her.

Once they had her, they took Bug to nearby homes and asked people if they recognized her. Nobody did, of course, but one of the neighbors (this was about two miles from our house) offered to drive Randy and Ladybug back to the cabin (about a mile from our house) and then take Randy back to pick up his snowmobile.

Isn't it already obvious how much love and effort went into finding her owners? I get a little emotional just thinking about it.

This family realized pretty quickly what a sweet dog Bug is. They fed her and got her warmed up in the house. They let her crash on one of their dog's beds. They told me it was obvious she was well cared-for, as she was housebroken, crate trained (she was lying in one of the open dog crates when they returned from dinner), and looked healthy and had a shiny coat. She hung out with the other dogs like they had known each other forever. Randy fell in love with her. He said he had decided that if they couldn't find her owner, he would take her home.

Fortunately we had recently attached Bug's license and rabies tag to her collar. I don't know why; I was filing some papers and found her license taped to the receipt from the county and I guess I thought it couldn't hurt. I'm so thankful I did. Her angels called the vet's office (closed on Saturdays), and animal control where I had left information about Bug in case someone did call. Animal control then contacted us, and the rest is history.

Ladybug has been sleeping A LOT since we brought her home. She seems to be moving in slow motion like she's stiff from being out in the cold for so long. I won't even venture a guess about how much longer she could have survived out there. I'm just glad she's home, safe and sound. And the kids? Their excitement is indescribable.

It just goes to show you can still find good people and happy endings.

Random thoughts for a Thursday.

Did I forget to mention? Steve is home for the rest of the week. He left PA on Tuesday after yet another wicked snowstorm blew in causing the job to be shut down. Work will hopefully start up again on Monday. Check that. Just got a call that it will start up on Saturday. So much for enjoying the weekend with him. But you won't hear complaints from me. No work = no paycheck.

I was up most of the night last night praying and watching for the dog to come home. She didn't. I'm sorta' numb about this. I'm angry at myself, annoyed with the dog, sad for the kids. OK, maybe "numb" wasn't quite the word I was looking for. Maybe it's "paralyzed." Because I just don't know what to do. I at least called animal control and left a message in case anyone drops her off or calls to report they have her.

Random photo of an old stump in the back yard. Cool, isn't it? I love the twisty-turny patterns of the wood. I'm sure there is some great comparison to be made here about how it represents life in the bumps and lines and rough patches and varying colors from light to dark. Or maybe it's just a really neat stump that I'd like to plant a garden around someday.

It's a beautiful day today. Every time I step outside (hoping to hear the jingle of the dog's tags) I am warmed by the sun and I can hear birds singing like it's spring! It always amazes me how blue skies and a sunny day can boost my motivation to get some work done around the house. Well that, and the fact that I don't have any clean jeans.

I miss having a Starbucks nearby. Yes, I know it's expensive. No, I don't drink plain ol' coffee when I go there. Starbucks is a treat for me so I usually order a mocha or a frappuccino and make it totally worth it. I drank three frappuccinos over last weekend: one on the drive to PA, one while we were there, and one on the drive home. Oh, and on the drive home? I broke my own rule about never ordering "venti" anything from Starbucks. And lemme tell ya, that's a lot of frappuccino. It got me through the last six hours of the drive, though. Muah.

Lent, Day Two. Am I being tested? I did say I would spend more time with the kids. Guess what offers the perfect opportunity for spending more time with the kids? Losing a family pet. But guess what the stress of losing a pet does? Makes me want to eat everything in the house. Lord have mercy.

The worst kind of mommy guilt.

The dog was doing that thing where she licks her chops over and over and then sits there and looks at me like I just scolded her, even though I didn't. Then the retching started. She was in the middle of the living room and I was hopeless to stop the first round of doggy barf from hitting the carpet. I knew there would be more, though, so I quickly coaxed her toward the front door. When she paused I grabbed her by the collar and, as sweetly as I could, shoved her outside.

The whole thing took maybe 20 seconds - not enough time for me to slip my shoes on and grab the dog's leash, but plenty of time for me to think about the possible consequences of shooing her out into the big bad world without her being attached to anything.

Sure enough, Ladybug finished her little episode, went potty, and then realized she was FREE! and took off running into the wilderness, nose to the ground. That was sometime midday. It's now the middle of the night and she hasn't returned. So here I sit, worried sick, all the outside lights ablaze, and not wanting to think about how I might have to tell the kids in the morning that she hasn't returned. It was difficult enough for them to go to bed without telling her goodnight.

We tried standing outside and calling her name a few times, but it really does no good because she doesn't respond. Obviously. Around 11 p.m. I tried again and was certain I heard her barking in the distance so I got in the truck and rolled down the road a ways with the window down, her leash and treats at the ready in the passenger seat. Nothing.

Ladybug is a Plott Hound, a breed originally used to hunt bears and wild boars. Some are now bred and trained for coon hunting. They also tend to make great family dogs, and they become very attached to their pack of people. We adopted Ladybug from the humane society and we knew we would have to work those hound tendencies with plenty of exercise and opportunities to sniff around. That's not too easy in the middle of a Michigan winter. I have a feeling she's getting her fill of what she's been missing in recent weeks, and perhaps is standing at the base of a tree where she thinks she's treed a coon, barking, and waiting for one of us to come along and tell her she's done a good job. Ideally, though, she'll give up the hunt and decide it's much easier just lying around on the couch and letting her humans feed her without having to work for it. And then she'll pick up the scent of home and be waiting on the front porch in the morning.

Here's hoping.

Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom? Mommy?

How could anyone ignore this face?

I'm so glad I have Ladybug to keep me company during the day. Most days she hangs out on the couch and only lifts her head if I make a move to go outside or get something to eat, or if somebody comes to the door. But the other day I guess she really really really wanted to go outside and play because she kept coming over to where I was sitting and resting her chin on the arm of the chair. I couldn't help but grab the camera.

"Wanna' go outside, Bug?"

That's a yes.

She's got it made.

Oh, to have a dog's life. The household hound continues her daily routine of lying curled in a ball on the couch, grabbing a bite of kibble, nosing my arm to alert me it's time to go potty, all blissfully unaware that her world is about to change in a big way.

Once Steve leaves I expect it will take several days for Ladybug to realize daddy is not coming back for a while. That means several days of me keeping the drapes pulled anytime she is awake so she doesn't sit staring longingly out the window and whining, watching for his truck. It means she will sniff the children relentlessly when they get home from school in her own way of asking if perhaps they have forgotten someone outside. I suspect she will sit next to me in the evenings with a look in her eyes as if to say "what have you done with him?"

The cats won't care. As long as they are fed and petted and talked to occasionally (or not, depending on their moods) they will be happy. The dog? She'll take some time to settle into a new routine minus one of her humans, but eventually she will. The real question is, how long will it take the rest of us?