So occasionally things get missed.

Not the big stuff of course like annual check ups, heartworm medicine and the like. Just last month everyone had their check ups and I’m happy to say everyone was in good health. But then came the purchase of flea control and heartworm meds. With so many different sizes of canines, we need a lot of different packs of meds that correspond to their weights.

And every time when Doug pays for their meds he looks a lot like Fred Sanford.

I don’t know that he means to do it. It’s just a gut reaction he can’t seem to control. He never resents it. It’s just expensive.

Anyway, I noticed a couple of days ago that Lazer had been paying Daisy extra attention.  He hadn’t actually grabbed her yet and tried to have his way with her, but love was in the air. Then the one part of my brain that’s still working slapped the other and screamed “THEY”RE NOT FIXED YET!”

The plan was to get them both fixed after the rodeo. Everyone else was already. But we all know how that went. (A lot of things that were planned for after the rodeo didn’t happen.)

So it got postponed. And to be honest we’ve been so busy getting ready for the new store that I’d forgotten all about it until a couple of days ago. They’re never off a leash unless it’s at dog park; and with it being so abysmal here- (tomorrow and Saturday it’ predicted to be 107) we haven’t been to dog park in months.

Lazer was looking for love for sure. But with him being so giant and Daisy so small by compare, their love was not meant to be. (Not that we would’ve let it have been anyway.)

Daisy hopped up on the back of the big leather chair by the windowsill. Lazer put his front paws on the side of chair and started doing his thing. And since I was sitting in the chair at the time I stopped his fun.

He looked confused as most males do when you interrupt their playtime.

I called the vet and was told it’d be next week before I could get an appointment for Lazer. So not wanting to play defense for almost a week I called Evelyn and asked if Daisy could come spend the next five days with her at Miss Bunny’s Day Spa.

And of course being the good egg that she is, she said OK.

Before taking Daisy over there we took her to get her nails cut and I gave her a bath. When we got there I put Soft Claws on her. Daisy has strange nails. They’re more like cat nails. They’re sharp, seriously sharp, all the time. She doesn’t mean to hurt you. But when she gets excited she paws at you and the results can be bad. Doug damn near needed stitches last time.

I looked at their sizing chart online and thought I’d ordered the right size. However once I got them on her I noticed they were a tad large. Evelyn says that Daisy now has “Ho toes”.  Which may be kinda true; but at least she doesn’t have the dreaded “Ghettoes“.

The good news is that Daisy is no longer a danger. And that’s a good thing.

The bad news is that now Daisy’s not there Lazer is manic looking for her. He walks and walks and yodels then breaking into howls.

It’ sooo sad. And sooo annoying, especially at night when you’re trying to sleep. Emphasis on the word trying.

We went to Evelyn’s the next day and when I came home Lazer jumped on me, literally like white on rice. His paws reach my shoulders. He wrapped them round me as best he could, and his fun commenced. Well he thought it was fun anyway.

He was a dog on a mission and wasn’t thrilled by being put off. I called Doug and told him to hurry home, that I was being molested.

By the time he arrived it was all over.

I was sitting in the corner whimpering and Lazer was smoking a cigarette.

Our puppies are due around Halloween.

Doug and I were having a hard time figuring out why Lazer was acting so nutso since Daisy wasn’t there. Then it came to us. While I was at Evelyn’s I’d been holding Daisy on my lap. I had essence of Daisy all over me; and although it couldn’t be seen, apparently he knew it was there. He really knew and it was enough to set him off like a water wiggle.

As soon as we figured it out I took off the dress and threw it in his crate. He ran in after it.

On the plus side he settled down. On the minus side I think that dress is a goner.

But before I forget I wanted to let everyone know that I’m registered at Puppies “R” Us.

But apparently it should go to someone in our family.

It would appear it should go to Blondie, our sweet yellow mutt who just can’t get enough of being a mom; even though she’s never been one.

She’s at it again. Actually has been for two weeks now. I took her to the vet this time to see about it. Since Blondie has been spayed the vet had no guess as to why she’s going through all this again. She shouldn’t be.

She’s actually lactating this time!

Blondie, not the vet.

She had a littler of 12 last time. This time she has 20 toys, safely tucked into the corner of the front bedroom, behind a table. She stays with them constantly, venturing out only when we demand so she can use the facilities. She’ll let Doug and I stay in the room with her and her pups. However the rest of the pack, save Blackie, her twin, are all canines non gratis.

I guess it’s OK if the pup’s aunt visits.

When Lazer made the mistake of entering the room though Blondie showed him all her teeth; along with a growl that left no room for misinterpretation. I had to resort to bringing her food and water in to her. And even doing so, she’s still losing weight.

I don’t know how to bring her out of it. The vet said it should pass, but it’s been over two weeks; and doesn’t look to be ending anytime soon. When I moved the couch a couple of days ago, Daisy found a toy under the couch and made the mistake of squeaking it.

Bad idea. How dare she!

Blondie heard the squeak through the closed door and down the hall. She threw a fit til she found her lost baby and reunited it with it’s siblings. I suppose she thought Daisy was actually hurting her baby.

In the meantime the rest of the pack has nothing to play with. Blondie has now sequestered all the toys in the front bedroom.

Lazer has taken to playing with empty, or sometimes not totally empty, bottles of water that we’ve left within his considerable reach. The other day he decided a box of chicken stock would be great fun to rip open on the leather couch. Serves me right not to have made sure that the pantry door was latched I guess.

The only one in the pack who’s unphased by all this is Little Bit, the Pomeranian, who never participates in any “dog play”, since he doesn’t really believe he’s a dog; instead just having had the bad luck of being stuck in a dog suit this time round.

I really don’t know what to do. At this point Blondie is so desperate to be a mom I think I could bring any species of newborn animal to her and she would nuture it. Her maternal instinct is strong indeed.

But before I go, I wanted to share something else Mother’s Day related.

I’ll be painting faces again tomorrow all day, so no big to-do for me manana. But I do want to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all my friends who are moms. And for those of you who aren’t moms yet, try to be good to your mother, not just tomorrow but all the time.

It’s a really hard job.

I’ve just been really busy getting ready for this weekend. I’ve barely been online at all.

Today we leave for San Antonio to do the San Antonio kids festival, which is tomorrow. We hadn’t participated in an event that had kids activities since last October and when we looked around on Monday discovered that we were quite unprepared; much more so than we ‘d anticipated, so we’ve been busy getting everything ready, making sure we had all the supplies that we’ll need for tomorrow.

Since Doug’s arm is still screwed I’ve had to help with the prep work much more than usual. And since we’ve been getting along so famously I’ve not complained one bit. We’re in a really good place right now, truly, truly happy. I’m scared the other shoe is going to drop and something drastic happens to kill the mood. But til it does I’m riding the wave of wedded bliss.

There was one sticky wicket so to speak this week, and I found something online that states it clearly:

No, the car is fine.

And it’s not Doug’s dangly bits that are the problem.

It’s Lazer’s and Gizmo’s.

When we adopted Lazer a couple of months back now, I did notice that he came equipped with both Jimmy and the twins. But since we were in the pre-rodeo mode I didn’t give it much thought. Then afterwards I was too tired to give it much thought.

Now though, it’s a big deal- a HUGE deal.

Both Daisy and Blondie are going into heat and guess who’s noticed?

A 63 lb. adolescent Siberian Husky who stands damn near as tall as I do. And a 7.5 lb. Chorkie.

I arranged to do a painting for our vet in exchange for $300 in vet services, which would’ve covered all the spaying. But as usual, I got sidetracked and haven’t even started the painting. (I have though, purchased the canvas.) At any rate, my plan was to start work on it this week, then take the girls to be fixed next week when I had it finished.

However, spring fever or something else intereceded and both of girls are putting out the scent. No one is showing yet, but I know it’s close and both Lazer and Gizmo are all too aware. I had Daisy on the bed and was scratching her tummy a couple of days ago when Gizmo hopped up and started sniffing about. I knew then what was coming. Within 60 seconds he went from sniffing, to licking, to trying to sex with her in the missionary position.

It was bizarre. It was like watching doggy porn.

Giz got fixed 5 years ago anyway. What’s with that? I thought that once the testicles left the scene, the drive went away. But I’ve never been a member of the tallywhackered club, so I don’t know for sure.

Then that same day, Lazer started giving Blondie more attention than usual. So now I have two love struck male dogs walking around. I knew I had to do something fast. There are a few low-cost clinics in Houston that do nothing but spay-neuters. So yesterday morning we left the house at 5:30am with Daisy and got in line with about 50 other people at one of the clinics. They choose which dogs get fixed that day by lottery. My number did not come up. So we headed home with Daisy.

Then I called Evelyn, AKA Miss Bunny, and asked her a huge favor. Could she possibly watch Daisy this weekend? Being my best friend and all round good egg she said sure. So I took Daisy and got her nails clipped, gave her a bath, and now she’s at Miss Bunny’s doggy spa for the weekend. From what I heard, Evelyn is already spoiling her rotten.

One down.

I called a different “low-cost” clinic to see about getting Blondie in. The must have a different definition of low-cost as they charge $250. So now I have 3 appointments for our pack on Monday morning. We have to be there at 7am. But that’s OK since the fee for all three is only $290.

So all yesterday afternoon Lazer was harrassing Blondie. And she would have none of it, actually nipping him on the face hard enough to make him yelp. She’s taken to running and getting under the coffee table to escape his advances. When she’s really had enough she goes back in her crate. Meanwhile, he sits and howls, and howls, and howls.

It is the saddest thing that you’ve ever heard; not to mention pretty annoying at 2am.

Luckily when Doug gets rebuffed he just pouts in silence with his lower lip jutting out.

Then last night as I got up off the couch Lazer came over, stood up and tried to wrap his paws around me and started to mouth my arm- doggy foreplay

I don’t know what’s with that.

I got fixed over 20 years ago after all.

Lazer is one seriously confused pup.

So I guess that’s about it for now. Have a great weekend. See everyone next week.

There’s been no slap ‘n tickle here for a couple of weeks. I’ve never been one of those women turned on by arguing with a man. I’ve seen it on TV and in the movies; but I can’t imagine doing that. Maybe it’s just me, but when I’m pissed or even irked but that’s the last thing I want; and Doug knows better than to send his hand over my side.

All women know “the hand”.

If I have my back to him in bed that’s like a huge flashing neon sign that says “Proceed at your own risk!”

We’re going to have to kiss and make up soon. To be honest I’ve actually been missing it.

And although things aren’t overtly hostile between us anymore, I’m still feeling sensitive. Brett is coming home from Austin today to help his dad. That should make a lot of the rodeo prep go faster, thereby reducing some of the stress.

Anywaay… a young guy showed at at our door yesterday. He had big blue eyes and was sooo attentive to me. He made me feel like I was the center of his universe; something Doug hasn’t done for awhile now.

What can I say? I was feeling vulnerable and fell for his charms.

Doug walked in and found us together.

But before you judge me too harshly, look at him. Could you really resist that face?

Pardon the quality of the photo. I had Doug pet him while I took it this morning. You can see that I’m no photog.

Just like all the others in our pack this young man found his way to us. He showed up with nothing but a flimsy black fabric collar. We  took him to the vet to see if he had a microchip.

Nada.

I had estimated his age at just over a year, the vet agreed. So Doug started putting up signs in the neighborhood and I called all the local vets putting in reports. The problem is, he’s an un-neutered male, a Siberian Husky un-neutered male. Since they’re bred to run long distances without stopping he could’ve easily traveled miles, many miles before he found us. And it was cool weather yesterday too. Perfect running weather for a husky. He was out lookin for love as I will explain in a bit.

I contacted Husky Haven the local husky rescue group. They only take dogs out of shelters, the ones that are on “the list”. I cannot, will not put him at a kill shelter. If he were to slip through the cracks and wind up put down it would just kill me. And of course all the no-kill facilities are beyond full.

He knows how to sit and to shake. He’s a great guy; and a big guy. He’s got to be 70 lbs and incredibly strong. When I had him in the house today when the pack was out back using the facilities, he decided that I would be his lady of choice for the moment. He wrapped his front paws around my bicep and started going to town.  He was taking little nips at my shirt with his flea teeth. Doggie foreplay I guess.

Our pups will will due in the spring. We’re registered at Petsmart.

That was the most positive attention I’ve gotten from anything with testicles in a couple of weeks.

Someone had to have paid a lot of money for him. He’s AKC for sure. Why in God’s name then didn’t they spend the $30 to put a chip in him? I seriously do not understand.

Of course he did pee twice in house where either Gizmo or Little Bit had gone last summer when we were away and that whole incident went down. But he’s potty trained and chills in Blackie’s crate when he’s not running around in the back yard. We still haven’t let him met the pack yet. I’d hate for Gizmo to beat him up.

Doug just went out again. It’s in the high 20′s and put out more signs, further away. I’d just love to keep this lost soul and I think Doug would too; but it’s obvious he was well taken care of and he really needs to get back to his family. Besides, our yard now is sooo tiny and we already have the 5…

I wrote the above last night.

Well, we just let him meet Blackie. There was much play bowing going on and I’m not sure Blackie knew just what to do. She and Blondie are used to being the big dogs around here and he’s twice their size easily. Doug’s going out to look for Lost Dog signs and buy a bigger bag of dog food. This guy is the Jethro Bodine of dogs. He loves his food.

We just let him meet the rest of the pack. Daisy was racing around the yard like a blond bullet and just as I expected Gizmo went after him like Cujo. That crazy little dog has absolutely no fear. I think having a big dose of crazy in you does that to you. Lucky for us he’s still a pup and just wants to play.

He’s been fun to have around; but I sure hope his folks call today.

It’s not such a huge thing in the summer, but last night another blast of arctic cold came into Houston, bringing with it icy rain. We’ve already had the high for the day. The temperature is dropping. We’ll be back in the 20′s tonight.

And although we didn’t really get snow here, the weather is total crap; so I found this card appropriate. I think it’d be appropriate for most women who don’t live in San Diego, Miami, Phoenix or Los Angeles.

I am so ready for spring.

Take it from me, it sucks.

Trying to get just one dog leashed and out the door at our house without the others storming the front door is a Herculean task. This is probably because when the dogs hear the slightest jingle from a leash, they assume that a car ride and dog park will follow. To say they are motivated is like saying the Titanic had a small leak.

And why was I doing this you ask? Couldn’t I just find a cat o’ nine tails to whip myself with like in the DaVinci Code?  Did I really think all this would make a good substitute?

The cat o’ nine tails would’ve been preferable.

I will explain.

Our side fence was in bad shape when we moved in last April, and over time certainly hasn’t improved. So finally, after months of discussion, Doug talked to the neighbor and they decided it was time to replace the fence. After hurricane Ike, Doug and Nate did replaced a few fences and became quite proficient at it.

Doug assured me it would be at most a  two day job-One day to set the posts and the next day, perhaps 2 hours to build the frame for said fence and put up the pickets.

So Doug took down the fence, then on the way to Home Depot to get the rest of the materials the van, AKA our only car, overheated. The mechanic said it was the thermostat and would be a quick, cheap fix.

That was 10 days ago. Finally, last night tonight we were told the car is ready. We pick it up this afternoon.

It was neither fast or cheap.

In fact a $60 repair became $450. More on that in a minute.

So we’ve been waiting on the van to be able to get the rest of the pickets so the fence could be completed. By 3 pm we should have both our van back and the fence completed.

Hallelujah!

Back to the car debacle. When the mechanic was initially working on the van, a thingamajig would’nt move. In an effort to get it to move Armando, the mechanic, took a screwdriver and a hammer and tapped it.

Bad move on his part.

There was an audible click. A click that shouldn’t have been heard click. A bad click.

Doug heard it. So did Armando. It was one of those “Oh shit!” moments.

And that’s when the repair went from $60 to $450. The whatchamacallit the mechanic tapped on actually cracked and to fix the problem at least half the engine had to be taken apart and a replacement part found. Our Mercury Villager actually has a Nissan engine in it. And although Nissan makes great engines, (we had one that lasted for over 250K miles), if you really have to get into one to work on it, it’s  a huge deal. Apparently a team of Japanese engineers, all brilliant but hopelessly addicted to LSD designed it, so when it works it works well; but if you’ve got to take it apart it makes almost no sense at all. So I’m told.

Armando couldn’t fix what he’d broken. So the van had to go to a different shop. Every day we were told tomorrow. “It’ll be ready tomorrow.” So naively believing him and holding out hope we never went an rented a car. What’s one more day?

With no way to the store,  I decided this would be a good time to use up things I’d had in the freezer for awhile. Some things were pretty much unidentifiable, even when we were eating them. Funny what you can eat when you’re starving. On the plus side, our freezer is pretty empty now and will be easy to clean, should I ever become possessed with the spirit to do so.

In the meantime we still had a pack of five canines at home, all of who need to go out to potty on a regular basis. They’ve always had access to the yard via a dog door and were not comprehending not having access to their yard. Blondie especially has been pacing inside the house like a caged tiger at the zoo, back when tigers were in cages at the zoo. I think she’s actually worn a trench in the Pergo and has been jumping over the back of the couch then bounding from couch to couch like a gazelle when she hears a noise that merits her investigation.

There have been hundreds of sounds that merited her investigation.

So in desperation and with it raining like a banshee outside, I tried to get the pack to learn to sit on the toilet. I’d seen that a cat can be trained to go to the bathroom. Each one looked at me like I was some sort of mental defective; although I think that with some work, Daisy just might’ve been able to master it. So with our pack remaining resolute and refusing to learn to use the potty inside, unless you count the occasional whizzing on table legs, it hasn’t been the best of times around here. Each of them has their own crate, but I can’t leave them crated all the time.

The only good thing is that the Pergo was already shot from their near death experience last summer. And on the plus side, Armando is giving us a signed note for $400 worth of car repair services. We shouldn’t have to pay for a brake job or a tune-up for a long time.

Things can only go up from here.

I needed something to make me smile. This clip did it.

Why do they look so much better sliding down the mountain than I did the last time I attempted to ski? That is so unfair.

Between my ancient eyes and my carpal tunnel from 30 years of face painting, this sucks the big wahoo.

I just wish I knew where I could hire a couple of nimble fingered Taiwanese ladies for a few hours. For assembly work you sickos.

(You freaks get your minds out of the gutter. Obviously you’ve been looking at some strange things of late.)

Anyway, I thought it was time for something sweet again. More politically incorrect Christmas humor soon.

Enjoy.

Fleas Navidog

They are fabulous dogs. Truly great dogs. Smart, almost too smart if that can be said.

I honestly don’t think they shed nearly as much as people think. It’s not a big deal everyday. I’ve had a lot of other breeds that have shed a lot more often if you look at the total days of shedding.  But huskies are double coated and twice a year they “blow” their coat. That means their undercoat comes out in big clumps. It’s almost unbelievable how much fur can come off 1 medium sized dog. It’s what helps them cope with the extreme temperatures they were bred for. Even with the extreme heat in Houston I never  had Kiwi shaved. You never shave a husky. That double coat protects them from the heat as well as the cold.

It is a HUGE mess that you cannot escape and lasts, if I recall correctly, about a week each time. A Siberian looks bad when that’s happening and I think somehow  they know it. Kiwi always seemed a little subdued when she was blowing her coat. It was if she was telling me “Avert your eyes. Look away.”

Still, we want another husky.

They were bred to run and run they will, far and fast if you ever let down your guard, even for a second and drop that leash or leave the door ajar. In all the years we had Kiwi and even since, I’ve talked to a ton of other husky moms and dads. I’ve asked each one “Can you ever let them off the leash?” I met 1, that is only1 mom who said yes. You must be vigilant. It’s great that so many cities now have off leash dog parks.  They can do their running there, where’s it’s safe. Strangely, Kiwi rarely ran full-out at dog park, instead walking, sniffing and socializing with the other dogs. She saved her flat-out, running at top-speed jaunts for the times when she did get away from us.

Even though we were good parents, Kiwi got away from us on more than one occasion. She led us on a lot of adventures. I’ll be writing a lot more about them in posts to come.

I checked into having Invisible fencing installed. The installer came out, saw Kiwi and said “I wouldn’t waste your money. When they want to go, they want to go. They’ll take that shock and keep on going.”

Still, we want another husky.

They are stubborn to a fault and they get bored easily. When they get bored they can be destructive as you probably read in my post yesterday.

Still, we want another husky.

I’m not trying to put anybody off from getting a Siberian; quite the contrary. I just want to make sure it’s a good match for you. Remember when the movie Snows Dogs came out?  There was a rush by the public to buy Siberian Huskies. They’re  really cute and that movie made them look even cuter. But they’re not for everybody. And after that movie a lot of people rushed out to get one without doing some research only to discover that they were not the right dog for them. Then shelters and rescues were overwhelmed by huskies that were just not the right dog for a particular person or family. Kiwi had been adopted twice before we got her. Still, once she was with us, she bonded with Doug like he’d given birth to her.

They are great with kids. They never have ” doggie” smell. But they will never be a guard dog. They have a strong “small prey drive”, as you could probably surmise from my story yesterday. She got a parrot once. It had been left outside, out of it’s cage, all alone, with clipped wings, on a planter about 12″ off the ground. Kiwi had broken out of our fence and was on one her her “runs”. She grabbed it and gave it one shake and dropped it. That was it. It was bad for everyone, worst of course for the parrot; but none too good for the two pre-teens that had taken the bird out of it’s cage and left it unattended. If it had to happen, at least the parrot didn’t suffer like if a cat had gotten it. That’s what the woman who owned the parrot said.

Sib’s are listed as the 45th smartest breed. I’d disagree with that. I’ve had a lot of different breeds of dogs and in my experience. our Kiwi was not quite as intuitive as our Golden Retriever, Buddy. However, she was as smart as our Black Lab, Molly.

I was walking Kiwi one day and she saw something she wanted to investigate. I was down in an instant and hit my face on the pavement; but thank God I still had her leash in my hand. And remember, I am not Twiggy, Calista Flockhart or one of the Olsen twins. (Feel free to insert the name of any other skinny Minnie into this sentence.)

Still, we want another husky. Their pluses definitely outweigh their minuses. And some day, when we get to actually pick another dog to rescue instead of having them fall from the sky and into our hearts, we will have one. That’s a certainty. They’re natural clowns who will bring a world of happiness into your life.

At this moment I’m mom to a happy pack of five. Other than Doug and family, our pack comes next. My friend Annah, who writes  When Red Means Go, calls me a “crazy dog lady” on her blogroll. I take that as a compliment; and for the most part, I think she’s right. Another blogger friend of mine, Anne, who writes The Day After Yesterday, has a great dog named Naughty George. Naughty George’s exploits are legendary and really fun to read about since I’m not his mom.

Everyone who knows me knows how I am and because of that I get things about dogs sent to me all the time. Amanda sent me this article. The title of it is “Puppy licked cupcakes.” Been there, done that. It’s a long article, but if you’re a dog lover it’s well worth your time. You’ll laugh a lot.

Over the years I had a lot of dogs in my life and most of them have been real foodies, just like their mom. Some were just nutso, much like their mom too.

When our kids were both teenagers, Doug would make a double batch of goulash. It was nothing fancy, but it was comfort food and if he made a big batch it was good for a dinner, then many late night or afternoon snacks. One day he got distracted and left the kitchen before putting it in the frig. I paid no attention to the loud “thud” I heard coming from the kitchen, assuming Doug was still in there. Eventually I got curious and went to the kitchen to find Ching, our Akita mix, in there eating that goulash like she was going to the chair. How she got that big heavy bowl off the counter without flipping it over I have no idea.

However, the award for the most gluttinous dog must go to Miss Annie Carlson, Evelyn’s pride and joy. I’m not judging here. I myself have been known to splurge to excess a few times myself on holidays. Not quite to the point she did, but at least Annie had a good reason for going buck wild around food having just been rescued from horrific conditions.

When I was growing up we had a dachshund named Max. He was a great dog. He’d actually sit up and bark at the projector screen, but only when he was on the screen. (Remember slides?) I never knew a dog could be so self-aware. Max was great; but he had one bad behavior. He liked to eat holes in bedspreads-only bedspreads- not blankets, not comforters. How he knew the difference I have no idea. It was bizarre. For a small dog he could eat an amazing amount of bedspread. Then later of course, we’d be treated to his most colorful poop. I remember seeing blue-green plaid poop one day. For awhile then it had bits of harvest gold or avocado green fabric in it. (That of course was in the 60′s.)  When Max became diabetic, we followed him around with a measuring cup every morning to collect a urine sample to know just how much insulin he needed. My dad got some pretty strange looks while doing this at the Holiday Inn.

We had a Siberian Husky we named Kiwi. When they were doing a lot of construction in our neighborhood  we were invaded by mice. While pouring a bowlful of cereal, a mouse actually fell right into Amanda’s bowl along with the Cheerios.  (She was somewhat less than thrilled, and when the screaming subsided we went to the IHOP.) Lucky for us, Kiwi was a masterful hunter and usually kept the mouse problem under control. Unfortunately however, one night one of them apparently tried to escape by going into our couch. Kiwi got it too. However in the process, she literally tore the back off the couch; but get it she did,  leaving it, just like the others, as a present always in the same place for us to find.

Doug knew I was tired of that couch and that morning actually accused me of stuffing a mouse in there for her to hunt. Yeah, like I’m going to touch a mouse.

The photo on the right was taken at a festival. Kiwi was chatting it up, expressing her displeasure at being tethered in one spot. “Come onnnnnnnn. Let me off this leash. I’ll be good. I won’t run off.” We tried that once. That’s quite the tale, but it will have to wait for another day. NEVER trust a husky. They lie.

She also chewed through the utility room wall and got her head stuck. We came home one afternoon and heard the most pathetic whimpering. Her head was in the utility room, the rest of her was standing outside. My guess is she saw a mouse run into the dryer vent which was located amazingly close to hole she’d made.

Kiwi was our cheese queen. That girl loved, loved, loved Velveeta and would do whatever was necessary to get to it. You’d leave the kitchen for just a second to put dinner on the table and when you went back to the kitchen, the cheese would have magically disappeared. I swear she had extendo legs that she kept secret, only using them when the Velveeta was left unguarded for a minute and we were distracted.  She was sneaky after she’d stolen it too. She wouldn’t sit there and just eat it out in the open.  Oh no. She’d hide it. We’d never know where she’d put it unless one of the other dogs got too close and she’d let them know that was uncool. It was hers.

We lost more big blocks of Velveeta that way. What can I say? Obviously, we’re slow learners.

One day though Kiwi was nice enough to share. She blasted through the dog door and right under my bed with a squirrel head in her mouth. Lucky for me Brett was home that day and retrieved the head. It took a number of threats to stop Brett from putting that squirrel head on his sister’s pillow, thereby recreating the infamous horse head in the bed scene from the Godfather (on a much smaller scale of course). Amanda would still be screaming if that had happened.

Gizmo now travels with us when we’re out of town, as he needs his anti-seizure meds every 12 hours. When we’re at a festival and Giz is confined to his crate, Doug always goes to a trash can and will pick through til he finds a turkey leg for Gizmo. (I’m told usually he doesn’t have to go very deep to find one.) They’re $8 a pop these days, and since Giz only weighs 7 lbs., a turkey leg, even half of one, will keep him busy for hours. Doug says he’s gotten more than a few pitying stares while doing that. I told him I think the stares are more “OMG! Did you see that man?” Still, he is undeterred. (He’s from NJ after all.) It takes a lot to bother him.

I’ve got tons of dog stories but I just realized this post is long as it is, so I guess I’ll end it for now. I really enjoy reading dog stories though, so if you have one, please share.

This has just gotta be a female. You know guys never pull over and ask for directions.

Blondie, of Blondie and Blackie fame, are the latest addition to our happy pack. Nate and Amanda brought them home after finding them wandering the streets after a fierce spring storm over a year ago. They are twins for sure, but not identical. Blondie is yellow, hence the name, and is some kind of lab/pointer mix so I’ve been told. Blackie is black; go figure. Blackie is a Australian Shepard mix.

I know, the names weren’t very creative; but this wasn’t supposed to be their “forever” home.  I thought their forever parents could give them their final names. Of course, when Nate and Amanda moved out, they left the twins with mom AKA the old softy. So now this is their forever home.

Anyway, the vet said that two dogs in the same litter can have different dads. I guess their mom got around a bit. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, long as you’re not married or anything.

Usually our pack gets along fine and shares everything really well. Well, maybe not brand new bones, but everything else- the attention, the toys etc.

Late last week though, Blondie started acting differently, not wanting to play as much. I kept watch to make sure she was eating, drinking, and pooping- which she was. Then this week, I couldn’t find most of the dog toys.  Usually, we have squeaky toys strewn all over the den. (With a pack of 5, you have a lot of toys.) Usually, we have squeaky toys strewn all over the den. So I searched and found them, all of them, with Blondie. She’d taken up residence behind a couch cushion leaning against the wall in our office with all the toys either under or right next to her.

She’ll let me next to her, and I can even pick up one of the toys; but the rest of her pack? They’d better not get anywhere close. If they do, growling ensues. A couple of night ago when Blondie and I left the office I closed the door, forgetting what she’d left behind. She came back and started crying at the door. It was the saddest, most pathetic sound you can imagine. I opened the door, and she flew back behind the couch cushion to the toys; at last count she had 12 with her. Take a look please. What do you think?

I think she thinks they’re her puppies!

When I let her back into the room, she then took those toys one by one and moved them to the corner of the coat closet in the den. Then she went in and laid with them again.

Is she crazy? She’s not pregnant. Nor has ever been. I’ve called dog trainers and the vet. No one has been able to give me an explanation. A trainer told me that sometimes the Alpha dog will hoard the toys. She’s never been the Alpha. Gizmo’s the Alpha, all 6.5 lbs. of him. (He had to abdicate when he was so sick last month.) However, he once again rules the pack with his iron paw.

I honestly don’t know what to do. The rest of the pack want to play with the toys, but she won’t let them near. Should I go buy more or will she just adopt them too? I’m dead serious here- if anyone knows what’s going on or how long this will last, please tell me. I really don’t know what to do.

Can anyone explain what’s going on with her?

About 7 am Doug and I were awakened by the thunder. Immediately thereafter came the tropical storm type rain. I like snuggling in the rain. As we laid there I was just hoping that the pack would stay quiet in their crates until their usual time of 8 am. That was not to be.

Normally I let them out and immediately put them out the back door to do their morning ablutions. As I expected, when I opened the back door this morning, I saw a lake with no shoreline. In the past few weeks, in an effort to keep Daisy from digging out, Doug has bit by bit encircled our entire backyard with solid concrete blocks.

On the plus side, her digging out has stopped. On the minus side, now whenever we have a big storm we have a lake. Normally this isn’t a big thing. But first thing in the morning it is. I had 5 dogs with full bladders this morning and there was no way they were going to do their business out back.

It was so deep that Little Bit, the Pom and Gizmo, the Chi/Yorkie mix would’ve been swimming. I guess the rain had molded my brain because I didn’t even consider just putting a belly band on the little guys. Instead I thought I’d just put them on their leashes, open the front door and let them go in the flower beds that were under the eaves. (That way we’d all be protected from the torrential downpour.)

It sounded good. In practice, not so much. When we’d stayed at Motel 6 for 2 weeks all of them became very accustomed to doing their business while on a leash. Well, either they’d forgotten how to do it (unlikely) or were just feeling stubborn (most probably), but I got no where with that plan.

So I took them back in and tried to get them back in their crates. This too proved problematic. The twins sat down like donkeys and looked at me as if to say “You want me back in there? I just came outta there. I don’t think so. Thank you very much.”

The little guys went into their crates and then proceeded to throw fits since they hadn’t yet relieved themselves and besides, all the big kids were still out- not fair! It is amazing just how annoying two such small dogs can be. Meanwhile Daisy was bouncing off the furniture like she’d just done some speed.

I made a command decision.

I decided to take them on the front porch, sans leashes. It was still storming- lightning , thunder, real act of God type weather. I actually didn’t think they’d leave considering the extreme conditions. I was wrong. They went running like they were turbo powered. I swear I thought I saw Blackie stop, turn and give me a raspberry.

I knew I couldn’t get them back by myself, so I went in to get Doug who had just finished his morning business. Nothing short of a direct hit by a nuke would delay that. They could set the Atomic clock by his bowels.

An ugly conversation ensued. (It’s amazing in times of stress just how nasty two normally loving people can be to each other.) I grabbed leashes, he the car keys. We each had our phones and went different ways, which at this point was a good idea.

Meanwhile I noticed that the trash guys didn’t take the old couch that Doug had put out for the trash. (They were supposed to.) My day was just getting better and better now, knowing that the croan with the HOA would be flying by on her broom today looking for the “bad seeds” who’d violated the deed restrictions.

The umbrella wasn’t helping anyway so I threw it aside and stalked down the block. I got about three houses down when a truck drove past and I noticed my neighbor staring at me. Then I realized that in my haste to leave I’d forgotten to put on my bra and now I looked like a participant in a wet T-shirt contest  (if you add 30 years and more than a few pounds). This was just fucking fabulous.

Within the next hour we successfully collected all the escapees. I couldn’t be mad at them. It was my fault. Wet, muddy dogs in a car is not a wonderful smell. After they got home and somewhat dry, they all ate and ate and were then most happy to toddle into their “houses” for naps.

So how was your day?

I was awakened to the lovely smell this morning; and it wasn’t Folgers in my cup. It was poop.

The smell was overpowering. The  pack was still safely tucked away each in their own crate which were at least 35′ and 1 closed door from where I was laying. I’d always heard that a dog wouldn’t “go” in their crate.

So as I laid there savoring the aroma I wondered- where was the poop?

Fearfully, I felt around under the sheet  to see if  Doug had perhaps had an extreme senior moment and had just forgotten to get out of bed and had just let shit fly while he was asleep, so to speak. (He never had before, but there’s a first time you know.)

Thank God I didn’t feel anything squish between my fingers. I was quite relieved. Still the stench was pervasive. I checked our bathroom, assuming Doug was in there and had just forgotten to do a courtesy flush. He hadn’t.

How men can sit in with that stench and continue to read is a mystery to me.

I got up and checked the hall bathroom to see if the perhaps the sewer had backed up- nothing there. This was perplexing.

By now, the pack knew I was up and about so they were too; barking ensued. One by one I checked them as I  let them out of their houses and out the back door.

Still nothing, til I got to Blackie.  We have a winner! I opened her crate and she ran out like her tail was on fire, dripping poop as she ran. It was a wonderful way to start the day.

So he wouldn’t feel left out, I got Doug (luckily before his shower) and apprised him of the situation, knowing that he’d be eager to share in the fun. And since Blackie’s crate is ginormous and awkward to carry, he was gallant enough to take it outside for me, throw away the pillows that were enrobed in poop and then wash the crate.

(Doug seizes on any opportunity to throw his cape over a puddle for me you know.) What a guy!

Finally, everybody else gets back in, I’ve cleaned up the drips from the Pergo, Doug’s left for work and I’m just settling in to look at emails and start my day when I hear….

AAARRRRGH!

I look to my left and there’s Blackie, hunching up.

I yelled STOP!, although looking back, that seems really stupid. I’ve been that sick before and if you’ve gotta go, you gotta go. I mean what did I expect her to do? I felt bad.

Now she’s standing next to a dinner size somewhat runny pile of something that should never be in a house, much less on carpeting. If she’d only moved one more foot and she would’ve made it on to the Pergo, an infinitely better place to have an “accident” of any sort; but alas, she did not.

I apologize to her for yelling while quickly ushering her outside lest anything else vile come spewing out.

Lucky for me I have a strong gag reflex I’m thinking as I’m cleaning it up with a spatula, then paper towels, then water, then Febreze.

The good news is that whatever she was suffering from seems to have now passed and none of the other 4  have it. If I had 5 at a time with this I might just run away with the “jitsies”.

So now I’m looking forward to a fun filled afternoon of using the carpet steamer in an effort to rid the room of the noxious smell.

The jitsies are looking better all the time.

The question today was – “What percentage of dog owners let their dogs lick their faces? The answers were  3%, 30%, 63% or 90%.I got the answer wrong, answering 63%. I’m really surprised since every dog owner that know personally is accepting of canine kisses. The correct answer was 30%.

Of course there are even  those folks that accept encourage their dogs to French kiss them. That’s just wrong on so many levels. I was going to include a photo of that, but after seeing one, decided against it.You’re welcome. I just hope I can sleep tonight.

The site also said that 21% of people let their dogs lick their dishes. Years ago I heard that a restaurant in Thailand was having dogs lick the plates instead of washing them. I never researched it at the time; but I tried to today and never found any facts to support this, so I think that was just an urban myth.

I was raised doing this. But then we always had a dishwasher with a sani-rinse cycle. Of course prior to 1963 I was usually the dishwasher, so I guess over time we just became immune to whatever germs Max, our dachshund had at that time.

So the question of the day is “Are you licked?”

Evelyn has four furry souls that reside with her right now- one dog and three cats. She has her #1 canine- Annie- her rescued American Cattle dog, Topaz, an ancient calico who is queen of all she surveys, Zoe, a Halloweenie ( all black) kitty who’s a real sweetie; and then there’s Buddy.

Buddy is a ginormous tuxedo cat. He weighs 15 lbs if he weighs an ounce. Buddy is on an extended visit at Evelyn’s. His owner is between apartments, so Evelyn said he could stay at her house for awhile- til August to be exact. As everyone knows I’m a dog person, so I don’t understand all the peccadilloes that cats have. But this is the most self-assured cat that I’ve ever encountered. He just oozes entitlement. Although Annie tries to herd everybody, she doesn’t try to herd Buddy. He just sits there and looks at her. It looks like he thinking “Bring it. Come on. Just try it”.

Evelyn has been the hostess with the mostest, Buddy-wise and how does he repay her? By trying to escape whenever he can. When she catches him outside is he remorseful and stricken with shame? Hell no. He’s a cat. The first time she retrieved him she came away from it bleeding on both arms and wound up covered with band-aids. He got out and was missing for 5 days recently. Evelyn went so far as to call as pet detective. (I was sure the next step was going to be a Ouija board). Thankfully, he came back, slipping in without being noticed, just like he had slipped out. Cats are sneaky.

Yesterday he ran out the back door when Annie pushed it in. I didn’t know he was out til I heard a big commotion. Buddy was out alright, but instead of the leisurely stroll I’m sure he had planned, he was greeted by my pack. Greeted might not actually be the correct word. Accosted might be more accurate. By the time I got there, Buddy was on his back being examined up close and personal by the pack. They’re not usually around a cat so to say they were interested would be a huge understatement. To their credit, they didn’t hurt him; not they should’ve have- but you know the whole dog/cat thing.

Buddy was on his back for just a few seconds. I started yelling to distract my group and when I did, Buddy ran up the tree like his tail was on fire.

Evelyn took this photo of Buddy atop the tree. We got all the dogs quieted and secured then Doug put a ladder next to the tree. As soon as he did that Buddy came down and his own and made a beeline for the back door. If he doesn’t try to escape out the back again, Evelyn’s thinking about having our pack wait for him just outside the front door. Aversion therapy in action I guess. BTW- Buddy is just fine and back to being his condescending self. Cats.

The part of not being completely thrilled is that we’re still camped out at the Motel 6, so to speak, which means that we’re still homeless. We left Evelyn’s yesterday and moved to the Motel 6 so I could have the pups with us. We’re staying at one of the renovated Motel 6′s. Their renovated rooms are actually quite an improvement from before. They got rid of those God awful shower pods they’d been using. I guess those were OK if you were tall. However, if you’re vertically challenged like I am, they suck. The water came straight down on top of your head. (I guess enough of us non-Amazon types complained so they finally decided to make the change.)

Juggling all the dogs in and out of the room at the motel for potty breaks can be somewhat challenging, but it is doable. It would be nice if they all  could get their eliminatory systems in sync, however for now, that still seems to be a dream not a reality. One bit of good news today though. We tracked down the Realtor, or the husband of, that is, who leased our last house to us. He said he’d be willing to give us a perfect rental history for 2.5 out of the last 3 years. The last six months of course, Doug was in a firefight with out Iraqi landlord about rent credits for Doug’s work on his houses. What a God-awful mess. Doug’s trying to find the right lawyer to handle our suits when we sue the *******.

Anyway, finally finding the Realtor and being able to verify our rental history is good news and should help us. (Funny how homeowners want to know how you’ve paid your rent the last few years). I’d tried to explain our situation to some agents recently, but the whole situation sounded wacked, even to me, as we explained it. Doug is supposed to meet with a man later today. Pls keep your fingers crossed for us.

Doug just came in after walking the dogs. A guy down the way had his big German Shepherd out on a leash. His dog play bowed at Blondie and Daisy, wanting to play. Gizmo, all 9 lbs. of him, went off on him. Luckily that huge dog had a good disposition and just looked at Giz like he was crazy, which I’m pretty well convinced, he is.

I guess that’s it for now. Thanks to everyone who’s sent me words of encouragement and support. I really appreciate it. I’m still hanging in- at least for now. I know- breathe, breathe, breathe. When you hear the network break into regular programming for a special report  you’ll know either we got our house or Tiger Woods got caught with his pants down again. Let’s hope it’s about our house.

While we were packing I even got Doug to relinquish a few things. The giant assortment of mismatched storage containers in the kitchen- gone. An underbed container of expensive dress shirts that he hasn’t worn in 15 years- gone to Katy Christian Ministries. I filled 1.5 lawn and leaf bags with mis-matched socks. I could’ve made enough sock puppets for every child in Rhode Island. Perhaps I should’ve held onto them and started a sock puppet business. However, they’re gone too now- on to others that can use them. If you’re truly freezing, do you really care if your socks match?

Although he made major strides while packing, considering his hoarding, I knew Doug wasn’t truly over it when I got up yesterday at 6am and I found him in Brett’s closet pulling his ties out to pack them safely away. There was no use in arguing about it so I helped him pack. The very last thing I needed was a big fight to start the day. Doug’s ties filled two plastic storage containers 24″x18″x10″. That’s a lot of ties!

Naturally with my luck it was stormy yesterday so we couldn’t leave the dogs outside while everything was being moved. Doug was getting frustrated having to be so careful with all the doors so a dog didn’t escape so I decided to temporarily relocate our pack until we could take them to the kennel 40 miles away. Where did I take them you ask? To the local dog wash of course.

I calculated it would be closed- and it was. I took two couch cushions from the old couch I was discarding and the 6 leashed dogs and sat on the ground at the dog wash. (It’s just like a car wash, except it’s gated at the either end). It was covered so I thought I’d be protected from the weather. That part didn’t exactly work out like I thought it would.

It was decided that the dogs still had to stay on their leashes while there, so I had dogs tethered all around me as I sat on the cushions. Evelyn had come over to help get the dogs and me settled and then went home to get a blanket for me as the showers were ahead of a cold front. I wore an old jacket to go there knowing that I’d get dirty sitting on the ground surrounded by dogs. Nate and Amanda came by there about noon.

Apparently I was quite a site wearing an old jacket, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the concrete, surrounded by an eclectic mix of canines. I think I heard the word “prisonesque”. I was miserable and so were the dogs. Amanda insisted that we return to the house. It was a good thing.

Since Doug and I share a car, taking the dogs to the kennel was the last thing to do. My friend Julie, who has an official rescue near Houston, worked a deal for me at her kennel. I’m only paying $5 per day, per dog. The twins, Blondie and Blackie are together in 1 run, my 3 little ones, Daisy, Little Bit and Gizmo are in another. I took all their bedding with me so they’d feel at home. However I still cried when I left them.

Anyway, I’ve started looking online for a new house. I’m sure I’ll find someplace soon. Someone wanting to rent to someone with a pack of pooches? Maybe not so easy. But as Gloria Gaynor says ‘I will Survive”.

I stood there pointing to what I thought had been a chewed up toy. It was chewed up all right, but it was NOT a toy. It was half a opossum, the front half. Prior to moving to this house I’d only seen one opossum my whole life. It was alive and hanging in my MIL’s garage. Since we moved to this house, almost three years ago, now my opossum sightings are well into double digits for sure; however, they’re all dead. Our house backs up to a bayou. (I guess that’s where they’re all coming from). One of my first postings was about our opossum problem. A couple of these critters have been over 20 lbs. They are huge!- and scary looking. I’m beginning to wonder if the bayou behind our house has toxic waste. They’re getting so big they’re really starting to freak out Nate, Brett, and Doug too.

We don’t leave food out. I don’t know why they keep coming into our yard. Wouldn’t you think they’d catch on? “Hey Steve, don’t go over there, Joe did the other day and he didn’t come back”. I don’t mean to sound callus about this. I absolutely love animals; but I don’t know what else to do. I read that we could keep a strobe light going; that opossums don’t like them. However, I don’t believe I’d be very popular with the neighbors. Since the dogs go in and out the dog door, if we left a human trap out and by chance caught one, one of our pack would hurt themselves on the wire trap trying to get to it.

Years ago, our Siberian Husky, Kiwi was nice enough to bring me a squirrel head. The perfect gift for the mom who has everything, you know. Brett took it and was going to put it under his sister’s pillow. Luckily Doug got it away from him before he could do it. Brotherly love- what a beautiful thing.

I didn’t even think about getting another one for quite awhile. Evelyn actually bought one first and I borrowed hers. I filled it up, plugged it in and waited. It sounded like I was being attacked by a pack of cobras. The hissing was loud and impressive; but how was it really going to work? Well, it worked like a champ. It cut a swath through the dirt on my tile floors like a hot knife through butter. If your floors are truly dirty (dog dirty) you have to change out the washable pad on the bottom while your are mopping the one room. It’s a bit of a pain, but so worth it. With 6 dogs, 3 big and 3 small, my den floor gets seriously nasty looking very quickly.

Since I was so impressed with Evelyn’s mop I decided to buy one myself. I drug an old sofa out yesterday and put it on the back patio. I would’ve taken it all the way to the street but Doug has the front porch all covered with power tools. (Go figure). I’d only asked him to do it for the last few weeks. I’m not going to leave the sofa out back. I’ll harass Doug enough tomorrow to take it to the curb tomorrow night. A gentle “Would you please?” just seems to fall on deaf ears these days.

With that janky old couch out, I got busy with my mop. I sat in the den last night petting furry heads and admiring my less cluttered and definitely cleaner den. It was so much more relaxing in there. Do you know what Doug said today? It wasn’t “Gee thanks Honey, it looks nice.” or “I know you worked hard.” I got ” That wasn’t important you know.” That set me off like I had a roman candle up my wazoo and lucky for him he picked up on it. I swear this man is making me crazy. Lucky for me I see my doc in the morning. I think I’ll see if he can refer me to a therapist.  Something needs to change before I wind up with bars on my windows and a husband named Shelia.

Doug left for a couple of hours and just returned with a small bunch of tulips. No “I’m sorry for being so condescending.” If I didn’t like flowers so much. I’d pelted him over the head with them. Then I was asked, “Are things just going to be tense here for a couple of days?” Men…

BTW- In the interest of full disclosure I must say that Doug is cooking dinner tonight; and he does clean from time to time. However, tonight this card  just sums up my feelings about him- for tonight. Sorry if anyone is offended.

The Care2causes site also has free ecards that you can send. Access them at care2.com. They’re great! They have over a hundred cards to choose from covering every major holiday. Some of them even have music or are designed where you can insert your own photos. The cartoon dog in today’s post came from one of their cards. In the section for pets they have cards for many kinds of animals. Anyway, here’s the link to the story. I hope you enjoy it.

Doug brought me the Houston Press this morning and put it on the desk by me. He didn’t say anything, but I knew what that meant.  (The whole ESP thing after so many years and all). We’d been so busy with Mom the last 2 weeks, I guess I hadn’t realized that Doug wasn’t away working much.  No work= no money. Therefore, it would have been really stupid on our part to pass up the opportunity to work tomorrow- a big day for festivals.  If  I was hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably, he wouldn’t have done that. But overall, I’m doing OK now. It’s slowly sinking into my brain that my mom is gone and she would be the last person to say don’t work an event because of her. So, we’re going tomorrow.

When Doug first put down the paper I thought I’d have to work at some adult event tomorrow night with a bunch of drunks. (I’m not sure if I could handle that or not; I’m still really tired). But then I remembered an event that Amanda had told me about. I called this morning and discovered it’s a daytime event with dogs in costumes and their families. That I can do, and they said we can come, so we are. So the rest of today, I’ll be busy getting everything ready for tomorrow. Who knows, perhaps it will rouse me from my funk. If anything can do it, it’ll be dogs.

I won’t be posting til tomorrow night after the event. Hopefully, I’ll have some photos. I want to thank everyone for hanging in with me these past 2 weeks. Also, thanks for the sweet emails. I really appreciate them. Today’s trivia answer- the elephant.

Brett in Austin 2009

I got an email from my friend Kenna today. It was an invitation to join Nancy’s Renal Rangers. It’s a group of folks that are going to be participating in the National Kidney Walk on September 20th. I’ve actually met Nancy, Kenna’s friend. She’s a great woman who has had a kidney transplant. Doug and I will be participating on Sept. 20th. I’ve never been in a “walk” before and although it starts at 7am, I’m looking forward to it.

I spoke to my friend Michelle yesterday who is a flight attendant with Continental. She told me of her friend who is hospitalized with necrotizing fasciitis, the flesh eating bacteria. She developed the infection after some routine dental work. So far she’s lost half her tongue. I’m not even sure if you can talk if you’ve only got half your tongue. Of course she’s fighting for her life, so the ability to speak probably isn’t very important at this juncture.

I listen to the news everyday and keep up with world events at CNN.com. I read about absolutely horrible things everyday. But somehow, they all seem far away even if they’re in Houston. These last two things really gave me a wake-up call. I would say that on the whole, I am a happy person and have a pretty good outlook on life. However, I still tend to let minor things get me down sometimes. I don’t really care about possessions per se.

I’m already done with my “big house” stage thank God, and now live in a one-story half the size. I don’t have to have the latest or great new toy that comes out. I always wanted a flashy sports car. However, in reality, someone else would probably like it more and I’d get jacked for it. (Not to mention extricating myself from one wouldn’t be a pretty site anyway.) Since we got married on the spur of the moment I never even got a wedding ring. I guess people think I’ve been living in sin for over 25 years. I couldn’t care less.

Right after Brett’s stroke in 1985, Doug and I decided to be self-employed, since Brett had to go to therapy 5 days a week, twice a day. Being only 2 yrs. old with his life in front of him, his rehab became our entire world. No employer was going to give us the time we needed to deal with all his medical needs. One of his therapy appointments was over 70 miles away. Our income has looked like an EKG over the years. We’re pushing sixty now and don’t have pensions waiting for us or big 401K’s. Sometimes I get really stressed out bummed about that. Then I have a day like today.

Today was like an invisible slap in the face. One that I have to admit, I’d been needing. I’d been feeling sorry for myself. Then I remembered Nancy, who’d had kidney disease and Michele’s friend with the God-awful infection. Then I spoke to Brett, our son. He was telling me about the DJ gigs he has lined up and how well he is doing. This is the same person that we were told would never walk or talk again 25 years ago. (He left the hospital tied in a wheelchair with his head lolling on his shoulder.) I’ve got a daughter who’s been happy in a relationship for the past four years and who makes straight A’s in college. I got 6 crazy dogs and 1 crazy friend who’s like a sister to me. I’ve got a husband who loves me and sees me through rose colored glasses. Life is good. I was just to stupid to see it.