Impromptu Photo Shoot

Daisy jumped up on the sofa next to George. This is what happened.

Awww, Dad. I love you so much.

Hmmm, I'm feelin' feisty.

I'm gonna nibble your nose!

Darn it, Dad! You're not fighting fair!

Gratitude Journal #101

Today, I am grateful that school starts in two days. Oh so grateful.

Today, I am grateful for this news story I just clicked on from  Happy News. Semper Fi, indeed. Get a tissue.

Today, I am grateful that my father-in-law should be leaving the hospital today and is well on the road to recovery.

Today, I am grateful for laughter. Especially at the expense of sleeping pups whose cheeks are subject to mean ol' gravity.

"Check out my fangs. Grrrr. Terrifying, aren't they?"

Not really, Daisy. Not really.

"Then stop laughing and rub my gloriously furry belly."

Yes, ma'am.

What are you grateful for today? 

Guest Blogger: Daisy

Mommy tells me that a lot of people who read her blog want me to share my story with them.

Is Mommy crazy? I don’t smell anybody in this box. You can’t be real, can you? You’re not even like the people in the television. At least I can see them, but since I can’t smell them, they are not real. I don’t understand why Mommy, Daddy, and my two Brothers stare at the thing so much. Where are the wonderful, interesting smells?

The first smell of my human family was heavenly. I still lived with my dog mommy, but she wouldn’t let me have her milk anymore and most of my brothers and sisters had gone away. So sad. I loved bossing them around. But one night, Spirit Dog came to me, and he smelled like Heaven. I’ll never forget our talk because he smelled so so good.

He said, “You are about to join my human family, Daisy.”

“Who is Daisy?” I asked.

“You are Daisy. Your human family has already named you even though they haven’t met you yet. They have seen a picture of you and they love you.”

“Of course they love me!” I said. “I’m adorable. Everybody says so.”

“That’s right, Daisy. Now listen to me. Your new family is very special. I lived with them for 13 years. I had to leave, and now they are very, very sad. It’s your job to help them heal. Especially Daddy because he hurts the most. It’s a big responsibility and will be scary at first, but you are a golden retriever and were made to love people, just like I was. I picked you to love my family because you will do a very good job. God agrees. They need you.”

“I’m scared. I don’t know them. What if they smell funny?”

“They smell great, so don’t worry about that. Change is scary, though, and leaving your dog mommy will be hard. I want you to know that you will be okay. Just love them. It won’t be hard once you start because they are really very special. Any time you get sad, just present your glorious butt to Mommy, and she’ll scratch it. Trust me. Her butt scratches make everything wonderful. Oh, and try not to eat too much carpet. For some reason, they don’t like that very much.”

Then, Spirit Dog went away, leaving a bit of the smell of Heaven behind to help me fall asleep.

The next morning, I was glad that Spirit Dog had given me a heads-up because things started changing very quickly. A woman came and took me on a long car ride to her house. She gave me a bath and trimmed my claws even though I growled at her and tried to make her stop. Why is no one afraid of me? I have teeth. Grrrrr. Be afraid. Grrrrrrrrrr. Are you afraid?

Somehow, it just doesn’t work for me, does it? The schnauzers at the end of the street growl and scare me. But no one is afraid when I growl.

That’s one of the many things I don’t understand.

Anyway, that night, Spirit Dog’s human family picked me up at the woman’s house. Even though Spirit Dog said they were nice, I was scared and unhappy. I made lots of noise in the car and in the crate that night. They laughed at me and petted me. Why did they laugh? The petting was nice, though. When I kept making noises instead of sleeping in my crate, Daddy got out of bed and slept on the floor with his fingers sticking through the crate door. I gnawed on them. That helped.

Those first days with my family were very confusing. I didn’t know the rules so they were very patient with me. For some reason, I had to go outside to poop and pee, but there were so many cool smells outside that sometimes, I would forget to do my business.

Also, they got upset when I chewed on things. Every time I would find a sock or napkin or piece of furniture to chew, they said, “NO!” and handed me a bone or rope or stuffed toy. I kept forgetting that the Spirit Dog said not to chew the carpet so Mommy sprayed stuff all over it. It tasted bad. I eventually got the point but still say that chair legs and carpet make the best chew toys.

I’ve learned a lot, but there are so many things that don’t make sense to me.

Why won’t Mom let me lick the smelly stuff she rubs on her hands?

Why do I dig before lying down to go to sleep? This makes no sense but I have to do it anyway.

My butt occasionally slips off the bed or sofa. Why do Mommy and Daddy laugh when this happens?

Why does my ball roll away from me?

Why can’t I dig holes in the yard?

Why does my gloriously furry butt need to be brushed? Bad brush! Stay away from my butt!

Why do people yell when I paw them in the crotch?

Who is the dog in the glass? She's beautiful but I can't smell her.

Why does my knee hurt so much? One morning at the Place of Many Strange Smells, I went to sleep feeling just fine and woke up with pain in my knee. I suspect it has something to do with that nice man who wears funny clothes and looks at my teeth, but I can’t prove it.

Why do they yell when I eat food off the kitchen counter? What else is food for?

Why does Mommy take my collar off and throw it beside the crate at night? I stare at it and contemplate the sadness of collar separation. I love how the tags jingle.

Why doesn’t Mommy let me lick the soap scum in the shower? You’d think she would appreciate the help.

Why can’t I eat grass, leaves, socks, paper, shoe laces, underwear, bottle caps, legos, stuffed animals, mulch, and dish cloths? WHY???

I’m starting to suspect that God gave me a big heart, glorious golden fur, and a little brain for a reason. Spirit Dog said it would be easy to love my human family, and he was right. Daddy isn’t sad anymore (which makes me feel like a good and useful dog), Mommy gives the best butt scratches in the world, Big Brother is an AWESOME play toy, and Little Brother rubs my ears. Life is good. Very good.

I may not have a lot of answers to my questions, but I do have a lot of love. And I give it as freely as I give my glorious golden fur because I am a good dog.

Perhaps if you let me smell you, I’ll share some love and fur with you, too. Until then, I’ll just take Mommy’s word for it that you exist. You gotta trust a person who gives butt scratches like she does.

Things on Thursday: Daisy Dolittle

Daisy is healing from her surgery. Recovery is slow, and we had to increase her dose of sedative to keep her calm. Even sedated, she cannot fully contain the bouncy exuberance of her golden retriever genetic programming.

"Mom, do you need me to Heimlich you?"

"Oh, Mom, you found just the spot behind my ear. Scratch harder!"

"Nick, you know you want to share your ice cream with me. Look into my eyes...."

"These little pills make me feel so funky."

Daisy says, "Make it an awesome day...no matter what!"

Things on Thursday: A Black Daisy

Daisy is now home from her surgery, with a quarter of her fur shaved (was that necessary?) and looking both pathetic and in pain, despite painkillers and a sedative.

Daisy on Drugs

"Why can't I scratch my head?!?!"

Oh how sad! The patch on her side delivers a painkiller, and the sutures are inside the wound. She has surgical glue on the wound, and she had two K laser treatments to reduce post-op pain. I feel we've done everything possible to comfort her, but it still just tears at my heart.

The vet couldn't believe how wiggly and squealy she was when he brought her into the room with me and the boys. We both made soothing, calming sounds, and laid hands on her to settle her, but it was a good five minutes before she calmed down. He looked at me and said, in a somewhat awed voice, "And this is with sedation!" His wife bred Daisy, but apparently, the level of love bursting from our furry golden sunshine isn't exactly typical for the line.

The black cone of shame arrived, conveniently enough, in the mail today. It's much softer than the old, rigid plastic cone, which saves our shins from bruising. It is not, however, any less humiliating.

Gratitude Journal #94

Today, I am grateful for a wonderful evening Saturday night with my husband of twenty-five years. We had a romantic dinner at the Wine Loft (five courses, five wines, fabulous!), bookish browsing at Books and Company, and laugh-out-loud fun watching Bridesmaids. I love you, man!

Today, I am grateful for abundant, silly noises made by golden retrievers who are baffled by their reflections in windows at night. When I closed the curtains, Daisy was soooo much happier.

Today, I am grateful for veterinary surgeons who fix defective knees. Daisy will have her first surgery tomorrow.

Today, I am grateful for a number of pictures George took of the silly golden, but most especially, this one.


"Whah?"


Today, I am grateful for father figures in my life, most specifically for my uncle Darius and my father-in-law Roger. And I'm grateful that the father of my children is also awesome.

Today, I am grateful for repair people who can fix things, replace things (specifically, today, water softeners and pressure regulator valves), and generally know how to be far more useful in life than I will ever be.

What are you grateful for today?

Gratitude Journal #93

Today, I am grateful George successfully--and safely--completed another olympic-distance triathlon.

Today, I am grateful for Pastor Suzanne's sermon on mercy or merit. It helped me understand a lot of what I've been thinking about in the past few years.

Today, I am grateful for a dog that sits like a frog.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

...which also makes me grateful for laughter.

What are you grateful for today?

Things on Thursday: The Gentle Leader

A while back, a kind reader recommended the Gentle Leader as a means of dealing with Daisy's pulling on leash. The pinch collar had worked beautifully with Hoover, but Daisy wasn't responding to it at all. Finally, I took my kind reader's advice, and what smashingly good advice it was! The Gentle Leader works beautifully! Daisy doesn't pull at all, and walks are so much more pleasant. At least for me.

Daisy, on the other hand, has a different opinion of the Gentle Leader.

Why Are You Doing This to Me?

I cannot tell if she is merely sad or both sad and furious about the strap over her nose. I think I see daggers shooting from her eyes, but she's such a sweet pup that daggers seem impossible for her. She keeps trying to rub the strap off by running the side of her muzzle through the grass. Obviously, this only serves to keep the strap in place.

She's not sensible, but she's my dog. And she will get used to the Gentle Leader. Eventually.

I had planned on having Daisy be the guest blogger this week, but George pointed out that Hoover's guest spot occurred just weeks before his diagnosis with cancer. This coincidence has both of us a bit spooked about giving Daisy a voice on the blog, especially since her ACL/luxating patella surgery is on June 21. That's just the right leg. The left can't be done for three months after that. 

In the meantime, please enjoy these two pictures taken by George recently. My picture above is a more accurate representation of her true color, but you seriously can't beat natural evening sunlight for photographing golden retrievers. She really is furry golden sunshine!

Don't Hate Me because I'm Beautiful

Should I Be Worried?

Gratitude Journal #90

Today, I am grateful for those in law enforcement who face risks and dangers daily. Last week, our county lost Sgt. Dulle in the line of duty. He leaves behind a wife and three young children. May they feel the love and support of our community during this terrible time.

Today, I am grateful that our grill didn't explode. George discovered the burners are disintegrating and have giant holes corroded through them. I have no idea if this is as dangerous as it looks, but it scared me just to look at it.

Today, I am grateful for everyone contributing to cancer research and treatment across the whole planet. This disease in its many forms touches all of our lives over and over again in so many challenging and sometimes tragic ways. If you're like me and useless in research and treatment, please consider a donation to the fight. If that's not possible, why not send a friend or family member with cancer a card to let them know you're thinking of them.

Today, I am grateful for furry friends and silly boys.

Entirely Unnecessary Yet Adorable Dog Picture

What are you grateful for today?

Things on Thursday: Two for One

The patch:

The dog:

Update on Daisy: Her right knee has started dislocating as well. Yesterday was a pretty good day, but she's still occasionally limping or favoring one leg. I'm worried that we will have to have both her knees surgically repaired. In the meantime, we're keeping her activity as restrained as we can, and in moments like this one, it's quite easy. Don't pictures of sleeping animals make you yearn for your pillow?

Things on Thursday: Fur

When Daisy gets love, fur flies.

There's a lot of fur in our house.

Not Listening to Our Bodies

Yesterday, I had an interesting conversation with Daisy's veterinarian, Dr. Dave. A few weeks ago, Daisy injured her knee so that her knee cap repeatedly--and painfully--dislocated. After we did our best to keep her from running and jumping for a week, she was doing much better and hadn't dislocated her knee cap in more than two days. I called Dr. Dave and left a message saying she was doing fine.

The next day, I let her out in the yard, and when I looked out, she was racing at warp speed, a picture of golden enthusiasm and energy. She changed directions suddenly and continued her sprint, ears flapping and fur rippling from the speed in her four furry paws. After staring for a moment in sheer awe of her unrestrained dog joy, I remembered that she should NOT be running. I called her in, and later that evening, she dislocated her knee again.

Shoot.

When I called Dr. Dave yesterday, he told me that dogs...goldens in particular...do not have the cognitive ability to understand that they have to take it easy. As soon as they start feeling better, they go full speed. We humans have to do the thinking for them. He was saying, nicely, that I have to be smarter than my dog, which, clearly, I was not when I let her out unsupervised.

So now Daisy must spend two more weeks on rest and anti-inflammatory medications.

As I was contemplating her stupidity and its consequences, it occurred to me that George, my crazy endurance-athlete husband, understands Daisy's impulse to run perfectly. You see, he has, for many years, repeatedly injured himself, rested for too short a period of time, reinjured himself, and suffered the consequences. In short, he has displayed the same cognitive limitations in this area that Daisy has.

This past weekend, however, he demonstrated a remarkable restraint heretofore unseen in the annals of his triathlon career: he went out for a short run and returned almost immediately because his knee hurt. He had run over 9 miles the day before, and he realized he needed to rest. He limited his activity in response to the thought that pain was trying to tell him something and he ought to listen to it.

He's learning. Daisy, on the other hand, can not.

Since George is, in all other ways, cognitively blessed with a well-developed frontal lobe, I have to assume that his slow learning curve on the matter of injury recovery is a glitch in our evolution. After contemplating George's challenge in this area, I reminded myself of the principle that if you point a finger at someone else there are three fingers pointing back at you. Oh, yes. I'm guilty of this stupidity, too.

I've been living with some pain for a while and have not done anything about it, mainly because I don't want a repeat of six years ago.

You may be asking, "What happened six years ago that would make you stupid, Susan?" Let me tell you.

Six years ago, I had pain and went to the doctor. What followed was a year of medical testing hell, multiple misdiagnoses, and enough test radiation that I had to carry a card explaining that I wasn't making dirty bombs but had been tortured by doctors, in case Homeland Security scanned me with a geiger counter. Good times, man. Good times.

In the end, only two tests proved positive. As a result, I had surgery to remove my gall bladder and started taking prilosec for gastritis. The gastritis was caused by my taking too much ibuprofen for joint pain, which was caused by my insomnia.

Life-long insomniacs, it turns out, have a high incidence of joint pain because the human body repairs daily wear-and-tear in our joints only when we are deeply asleep. We insomniacs don't get enough deep sleep, so our joints don't repair themselves, and we have pain.

I've barely been back to the general practitioner since, though of course I've kept up my annual visits to the stirrups and boob squisher. You know, just for the fun of it. And I've done my level best to get at least six hours of sleep a night, with mixed results.

Lately, I've dismissed some new joint aches and pains as the natural consequence of being a middle-aged insomniac, and when a list of perimenopausal symptoms included joint pain, that seemed like enough reason for my joints to hurt. But the truth is, I don't know. I am not a doctor. And even though doctors practice medicine (wouldn't it be nicer if they did medicine?), they know more about how my body works--and how to fix it--than I do.

I made an appointment yesterday to see my primary care doctor about the pain. Hopefully, she'll simply order me to start doing yoga, which, I've read, is helpful for joint pain and doesn't involve medications that damage your gut or your heart. Because without a doctor ordering me to do yoga, I simply won't do it.

I'm stupid that way.

In what ways are you stupid? How do you ignore what your body tells you it needs? What, if anything, makes you listen?

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

This sleepy baby...

is now this alert dog.

Daisy is still 100% puppy inside, but her outside is turning into a very handsome dog.

Both photos by George.

Really?

Daisy ate a rock this morning.

Really, Daisy? REALLY?

We fed her a piece of whole wheat bread and will keep an eye on her until this passes. Please say a little prayer for her.

Gratitude Journal #81

Today, I am grateful for prayer and my prayer partners scattered all over the world.

Today, I am grateful for growth, change, and nurture.

Today, I am grateful for sunshine, laughter, and a warm puppy.



Sun Flower



The Nibbler

Now it is your turn. What are you grateful for today?

Things on Thursday: Best Dog Toy EVER

Daisy loves these knotted ropes with handles. She pounces on them. She chews them. She runs around the house with them as she growls viciously and happily at the same time. She drags hapless Nick across the carpet with them. She shakes them to death...a deed that is unsettling similar to self-flagellation since the knots and handle thud painfully into her body yet she appears not to notice.

She is a dog on a mission: Kill. The. Rope.

These ropes have also lasted weeks longer than other toys. We had to stop buying stuffies or those awesome unstuffed soft toys. She ate their faces off within minutes of getting them.

She also eats carpet. And rocks.

She is not sensible, yet we love her all the same.

Random Tuesday

It's been a disappointing few days.

1. Ice. It's great in a glass, on a skating rink, or in Antarctica. It's most definitely not great on sidewalks and roads. Mother Nature, you seriously need to make up your mind. Snow or rain. Those we can deal with. Ice. Not so much.

2. See how vicious Daisy can be? Check out those fangs, the crazy demon eyes, and the way she uses her paws to defend herself against the big, bad daddy with opposable digits poised to strangle her.

It's all an act.

Daisy was attacked yesterday by two miniature schnauzers who broke out of their electronic fence and methodically attacked her butt. Despite the fact that she equalled the two dogs in weight and could have chomped them both with little effort, Daisy tucked her tail between her legs and bravely tried to hide behind me. While one schnauzer barked and harassed our front, the other would sneak behind and bite Daisy on the backside. She cried, yipped, whimpered, and looked at me with hurt eyes that said, "Why don't these dogs LOVE me?"

This must have been a shock to her because not thirty yards before we reached the schnauzers, Daisy had had a happy butt-sniffing visit with a 75-pound golden retriever named Rose. The two of them try to out-submit each other. It's really quite funny.

Fortunately, the mean schnauzers didn't break her skin, but poor Daisy had schnauzer spit all over her backside. Those yappy mongrels would be in low Earth orbit if George had been walking Daisy. I, however, sternly told them "No!" and moved Daisy away as fast as I could without running. Then...oh, I'm really stern, aren't I?...I left a stern message on their owners' answering machine and paced shakily for a while. Turns out their electronic fence collar batteries were dead. The owner apologized and said she was going to replace the collars with ones that also keep the dogs from barking (good news because they are a serious nuisance at 6:30 in the morning).

So I guess the viciousness with which Daisy plays doesn't translate to the real world. Or perhaps she was picking up on my own viciousness when confronted with two attack schnauzers.

Really, we're just a pair of pansies.

3. Word Mole. I hate this game. I just discovered last night that it's NOT like Boggle. You don't have to make sure the letters are adjoining to form words; you can touch any letters anywhere on the screen to form words. This rocked my world, and not in a good way. Within just a few minutes, I'd beaten my top score by hundreds of points and could have kept going indefinitely. It's not fun anymore because it's just too easy. What's the point? I guess I should be grateful. Instead, I'm just mad.

4. I had two different companies solicit interest in my blog on the same day, and neither struck me as worthy of follow-up. Why oh why won't Starbucks or Barnes and Noble or LLBean offer to give stuff away to my readers?

5. I tried the Thai Chicken Salad at Panera for lunch yesterday, and it's not good. I ate it because I paid for it, but it's just not good.

Now Panera won't ever offer to give stuff to my readers either.

6. I scheduled my annual mammogram for February 14. 'Cause nothing says romance like not wearing deodorant and getting your boobs squished.  

It's a good thing all this didn't happen last week when I had PMS. If it had, I'd be curled up in the fetal position on my bed sucking my thumb.

See. I knew I'd find a bright side. It could always be worse.

Gratitude Journal #76

Today, I am grateful for George's latest recipe, steak fried rice. Yum.

Today, I am grateful for indoor heating, especially with a huge winter storm headed our way.

Today, I am grateful for our crazy golden retriever. She eats icicles, digs holes in the yard, and chews the corners off all our dish towels. She also sheds love like fur everywhere she goes.

In discussing the differences between golden retrievers and Labrador retrievers, Tom Davis wrote, "If Labs were people, they'd be the surgeons, accountants, attorneys, and CEOs--successful, yes, but a little, um, predictable. Goldens, in contrast, are right side, Type B dogs: imaginative, mellow, enemies of routines. Theyd be dancers, musicians, poets, artists--quirky, fun-loving, and full of surprises. You'd want a Labrador to handle your money, but you'd want a golden to throw your party. A couple hours into the festivities, it'd be the one wearing the lampshade." Other than Davis' use of the word mellow, this fits Daisy perfectly. I imagine in about six years, she'll mellow out a bit, just like Hoover did. But for now, she's a crazy icicle-chewing party-girl.

Today, I am grateful to two women, Patti M. and Miriam H., for their thoughtfulness.

What are you grateful for today?

Gratuitous Daisy

Puppy Sleeping in the Morning Sun

A Daisy in the Snow

This is today's second post. Please scroll down for this week's essay.

The clump of snow over her right eye sort of reduces the dignity of the pose, don't you think?

George and I marvel at what a gorgeous 9-month-old puppy Daisy is. She's beautiful, yes. Dignified? Well, in appearance, but not in personality. In personality, she's a dopey, rambunctious ray of furry golden sunshine.

We wouldn't have her any other way.