Choices

I have a routine. Monday through Friday, I get up, take my shower, get dressed (including my shoes), go downstairs, let two dogs out, make coffee, feed the cat and take the third dog for a walk. When I get back, I let the dogs in, pack my lunch and go to work. The weekends are different. I sleep in a little longer. When I get up, I go downstairs (still in my pajamas), let the dogs out, feed the cat, make coffee and try to keep an eye on the dogs (since Tucker is an escape artist). Sometimes, like this morning, that doesn't work out for me.

I looked out the backdoor, just in time to see Tucker climbing over the fence. I ran through the house, grabbing the leash (which is strategically placed just for this scenario), and out the front door to make chase. Of course, I was still in my pajamas, unshowered, sans my morning coffee. So, yes, I probably looked a fright. It usually only takes me a block or so to catch him. I realize that this is his way of sticking to our routine of the morning walk. Today, however, he was off on a full run. Which meant I was at a full run after him (cursing under my breath). After about a half a mile, he was still ahead of me and passing a jogger. I yelled to her to please grab him for me. She stopped and turned, just as he squatted to take care of business. "Uh, he's all yours" she told me, as I caught up to him and secured the leash. Then she looked at me (in my pajamas and out of breath) disdainfully, and asked me if I wanted a bag to clean up after him.

I really am a responsible pet owner. I do clean up after my pets. I do not take the time to grab a bag when I am chasing a runaway. Apparently her house was right there, I gratefully accepted her gift of a grocery bag, and picked up after my dog.

As I was walking back home with him...trying to beat the rain and badly needing my coffee and a cigarette (yes, I know they are bad for me). I considered what she probably thought. Then I decided that I didn't care. After all, our routines weren't that different. We were both out on an early morning jog (albeit, with different motivation).

This week has been hectic, I have found myself being much more reactive than proactive. I did have a plan, it just didn't go according to schedule. I have been a bit anxious and unorganized. I have been trying to get ahead of the game at work and at home, planning for my upcoming vacation. Unfortunately, most of my efforts have been derailed by mini-crisises that have arisen all week. Sometimes, life just happens. I am good at activating plan B and adjusting to the curve ball. Though, there are times when I envy people whose lives always seem to go according to plan A. I could make some changes to ensure things followed my plan. I could be more organized, I could get completely dressed first thing on Sunday morning, I could choose not to own rescued dogs (who won't be deterred by fences and commands), I could choose a more conventional profession, I could tell my sons, now that they're adults, they're completely on their own. Without the dogs and cat and children and grandchildren, I would have more money, more time, less stress and a cleaner house. This certainly isn't the life I envisioned when I was 20. This is the life that I choose, over and over again.

Do I have regrets? Occasionally, but they don't last long. There are times when I feel a fleeting twinge after passing on new clothes and shoes, so my grandchildren will have new clothes and shoes. When I pass on a haircut, so I can buy dog food. When finishing my degree and having a running vehicle is put on hold (again), for a myriad of other needs and causes. Then I feel gratitude. Gratitude that I have good friend that allows me to ride to work with her every day. Gratitude that I feel each day on my arrival back home, seeing three furry faces at the window. Gratitude that my grandchildren are happy and healthy. Gratitude in knowing that my plans will eventually come to fruition (and it doesn't matter if I am 55 or 60 when that occurs). Gratitude, that in this economy, I have a home and a job and health insurance. Gratitude that I can be happy living out plan B.

The escape artist, after the great escape.
How can I be mad at that sweet face?

Just another Monday night

Work was really great today. We were busy enough to keep the guys occupied, but not too busy to be able to sit down and have a little fun. I had forgotten what it was like to have a co-worker who actually carries some of the workload. I was able to finish up December's paperwork (yes, I know it is January 12th) and to ship some of the contract work the guys have done.

Since being home for two weeks and then returning to working full days, the dogs will not leave my side when I get home. Wherever I am, they are right there at my feet (or under them). This evening was no different, while I was cooking dinner, I had to constantly watch, so not to trip over them. Tonight was clean out the refrigerator night. That means that I do a quick scan of everything that needs to be used or pitched and make something out of it. Sort of a skillet dinner ala Alice. It usually turns out quite tasty, the downside is that it is a one-time meal. I will never fix it exactly the same way again (though, that is sort of true, even for recipes). Dinner was a spicy Mexican number. It was going to be Italian, until the fresh basil was not so fresh and I decided to use cilantro and sour cream instead. About 20 minutes from fridge to table. I am amazed by the number of people who rely on take out or boxed dinners to feed their families. I certainly could not afford carry-out very often and I hate those dinner kits that come in a box. Everything they include, I usually have in my kitchen (only fresher, without being processed and preserved).

If I had a digital camera, I would absolutely have a cooking blog. Because, what I need is another blog to have to post on.

Worn out

Apparently, having the grandchildren for two days wears us all out.

The saga continues...

Little did I know just how obsessed the dogs are with squirrels, until I spent the day at home with them. This morning two city trucks came by, one for leaf collection and then the street sweeper. Both of them were incredibly loud and slow moving, yet the dogs did not even perk up one ear among them. An hour later, they were all at the window, growling, barking and going crazy. I thought maybe someone was coming to the door. Then I spotted it, one house down and across the street, a squirrel! That was the object of their attention and the source of their agitation. It does make me wonder if the dogs know something about squirrels that I don't. I do wish the squirrels would relocate though.


moar funny pictures

Wintry mix

In these days, as the rest of the country has been slammed and immobilized by mounds of snow and ice, our temperature soared into the fifties. The forecast had predicted a wintry mix, that's forecaster talk for ,"we have no idea, so expect anything." Of course, I had just mopped the floor again, so that clinched it for rain. Mopping my floor is akin to washing your car, it is a simple act that can amass rain clouds quicker than anything.

My house has gone to the dogs again, mud, dirt and dog hair have settled on everything. The furniture cushions are torn and chewed. Dakota's babies lie all over the floor, muddy and eyeless. Tucker has no interest in toys, other than to steal them away and try and rip off their heads, while Dakota stands by in a state of anxiety, afraid to take them back. (No matter that Dakota is 100 pounds and Tucker is 40 pounds, they both know who is boss.) My job as the dog mommy is to mediate the sibling rivalry and to keep Tucker's alpha nature in check, by asserting myself over all of them. Their jobs, as my four legged children, are to be cute and loving and to keep reminding me why I have sacrificed money and cleanliness for living in a kennel. They are much better at their jobs than I am.

Christmas is in less than a week and I am sadly unprepared. I do however, have the next two weeks off, at this point I am hoping to be more productive than lazy. Friday, at work, we had a Christmas party for our group. Though I have tried to keep a professional detachment with our guys, I recognize the fact, that for a couple of them, Christmas is a sad and lonely time. At least two of them will spend Christmas in their group home, with no family interaction and few presents. This is a fact that may prompt a home visit from me, with presents that I really can't afford.

I often wonder if they will win the battle. Their issues and offenses will always follow them. They live with the stigma and the labels that overshadow their talents and intelligence. Even within the professional agency I work for, they are viewed as undeserving, unsalvageable. They know they are pariahs, outcasts. As much as I shouldn't, I take it personally. Their battle has become my battle, their successes are my successes, their failures are mine as well. When they ask me why I am hard on them, why I ride their asses? I tell them it is because I know what they are capable of, I know they can do better. I want to say, "Because I fight for you, I stand up to your team and put myself on the line. I push to get you opportunities, privileges, work, inclusion." I may be their biggest critic, but I am also their biggest fan. Working with them is a lot like being a dog mommy, I manage the pack, I recognize the pecking order and I assert myself as the alpha. The forecast for their lives is a wintry mix. For some of them, the sun will eventually shine, but some of them will never escape the storm.

bilingual

My grandchildren are here tonight, their parents are out celebrating their anniversary. The older two are sleeping, they went to bed hours ago. The youngest is still awake, fighting sleep and softly singing to himself. Even though it is very late, I am sure he will be the first one up in the morning.

Earlier this evening, the dogs were whining to go out. After I let them out, I waited by the door, it is in the single digits here and I didn't want them to stay out too long. When I came back to the living room, H, the six year old, asked me a question...

"Grandma, do you speak dog?"

"What?"

"How did you know what they were saying? Do you speak dog?"

"Well...I guess I do."

"Wow, I didn't know you were bilingual."

So there you have it, another one of my amazing talents!

My two sons are extremely different from one another. Growing up they never seemed to get along. They do not fight now, but they are not close. This week they touched my heart. In several small ways, they showed much love and respect for each other. That is the kind of thing that makes a mother smile. It was nothing they said to each other, it was a few acts of kindness that they both did, I guess they are bilingual too. Their communication is rarely verbal.

I'll wrap this up with my all time favorite music video. I have definitely been in an Alanis mood for a while.

squirrel saga

The weather here has been a persistent, cold rain. I heard it hitting the window when the dogs woke me up this morning. I had slept later than usual and they were frantic to go outside. After letting them out, I realized that they weren't frantic to pee, they were frantic to chase squirrels. Apparently, they had been watching a squirrel invasion of our yard through the window.

My dogs have never encountered any other evilness the likes of these squirrels. When it comes to chasing squirrels, my dogs do not have enough sense to come in out of the rain. Seriously, all three of them, jumping around the base of a tree, in pouring down rain, for 45 minutes. Even bribes of leftover turkey would not dissuade them from their post. I am ever so glad that I thoroughly mopped the kitchen floor yesterday. Otherwise, the muddy paw prints would not have been nearly so prominent. Rosco is definitely the worst of the squirrel nazis. He will spend hours hunting and guarding against squirrels. Just try to imagine, if you will, how much muddy rainwater this fuzzball can soak up. Normally attentive and obedient, he will not even acknowledge my presence when squirrels are afoot.

I like to think of myself as a lover of wildlife, and in one regard, that is true. I enjoy the flora and fauna of the outdoors. I love camping and hiking and generally communing with nature. However, my opinion of squirrels is pretty low. They are rodents. I used to think they were cute, but I realize that they are little more than rats who know how to accessorize. Take away that fluffy tail and you have a rat. In my neck of the woods (the suburbs) they are rampant. Add in the teasing and aggravating of my dogs and I wish for a squirrel free zone.

For when it comes to squirrels, my dogs have nothing on Dog the Bounty Hunter. Perhaps they have seen this on the post office wall.

It does not matter that they are outsmarted daily by the squirrels. They are sure that it is just a matter of time and luck until they apprehend their prey. I only hope that they would be as protective in the case of a real intruder, but I have my doubts. Unless said intruder happened to look like this...

Maybe squirrel accessorizing is really catching on.

All I Really Want...

~All I really want is some patience, a way to calm the angry voice.
Alanis Morrisette





Life is unpredictable, I have come to expect the unexpected. I am pretty good about rolling with the punches and implementing Plan B, but there are times when I really wanted Plan A. I have decided that my co-worker isn't getting any better, I am just dealing with the situation better. Work stresses have been a little more wearing lately. Yesterday, I was at another site, working one-on-one with a different client. My day was actually pleasant, until the last half hour with him. He displayed some huge behavioral issues before going home. It did work to my advantage though, when I returned to the office, I found that my being gone had emphasized my co-worker's incompetence. The program supervisor apologized to me, saying "I had no idea how really bad he is." Of course that doesn't mean that I will be rid of him, just that things may be watched more closely.

My son's girlfriend may be moving in with us, while they save money to get a place of their own. They both work and attend school, so I don't expect to see much of them, but it is an adjustment. I have been seeing him struggle to pull away and become more independent. I do recognize that as the cause of most of our conflicts (nothing big, just occasional quarrels). It is sometimes difficult for both of us to let go.

Last night I was exhausted, in addition to the day leaving me wrung out, I did not feel well. I do feel better this morning, but I am still tired and subdued. Today is a beautiful day though, it is sunny and cool and the leaves are changing. This is my favorite time of year, despite the ongoing problem of the dogs tracking in leaves and mud. As much work and aggravation as they can cause me, I love them. I don't think there is a creature on earth that can exude so much excitement and unconditional love as a dog. Everyday, when I arrive after work, I see three happy faces and three wagging tails in the window. Unlike the morning (trying to get out the door without being covered in hair or pawprints), the evening is full of big dog hugs and kisses. They can cheer me up no matter what mood I am in. I hope someday, that I live up to their (seemingly) unblemished perception of me.







My gratitude has been abundant today. I smiled as I woke up thinking of J. Remembering the last time he was here and sleeping in his arms. I smiled at being greeted by the dogs, outside of my bedroom door. In the kitchen, I smiled at the smell of coffee and my grandchildren's artwork on my refrigerator. I smiled at the sunshine and the crisp fall air, when I took the dogs outside. I am grateful for all of those things. They reflect my blessings. I am blessed by a wonderful relationship, I am blessed by my family and my home. I am blessed with health and a rich, fulfilling life. I am blessed with a job (that I mostly like) and the income that it earns. I am blessed to live in a country where I wake up hearing birds, not bombs. Where I have more food in my kitchen, then some places have in an entire village. Where I have clean, safe water at the turn of a handle. Where medical care is only a phone call away. Where my main concerns are bills, politics, and home improvement, rather than my next meal, if my children/grandchildren will survive the next year, and if my home will be bombed.

What are you grateful for today?

the throne

For about the last month, the cat has decided to make her throne on the, well er, throne. She has taken up the habit of sleeping on the toilet. I am one of those people who insist on not only having the seat returned to the down position, but the lid as well. Being a single mother and not having to contend with another adult authority in the house (of the male persuasion), I was able to effectively train my sons to put down both the seat and lid. Lately though, this has backfired on me, by having to remove the cat, as well as raise the lid, whenever I want to use the toilet.

There are times when this is not convenient. Such times are in the middle of the night, when I stumble in the dark to go to the bathroom, or coming in from the cold, when I am in a bit of a hurry. My inconvenience does not matter to the cat, she does not remove herself on her own. I tell her to get down, she just looks at me and plaintively meows. Of course, she continues her mewing complaint until I remove myself from her throne. This is not the first time I have been trained by a cat. We used to have a cat, who had me trained to turn on the water in the sink every time I was in the bathroom, so she could get a drink. No ordinary water bowl for her.

I will admit, that my dogs are far from obedient. They sometimes lack basic ettiquette skills, they jump on guests, they slobber, they climb in my lap at inopportune times, they chew up the mail. But, overall, they know who is in charge (me) and they NEVER sleep on the toilet. Despite not having claws, the cat has also managed to train the dogs to leave her alone, save an occasional sniff. So, the truth be told the cat is in charge. Perhaps I should change the name of the blog to "Life in the cat's house."

The house has gone to the dogs

The weather so far this year has been a bit extreme. After several snows, we then faced a blizzard and then torrential rains and floods. I am the lucky owner of four dogs, ranging from 45 pounds to 100 pounds. I also am blessed to own a 30 year old house, with original everything, from the roof to the furnace. This year I will have to sell my soul in order to do about $20,000 in renovations, before the house collapses around me.

The backyard currently is a grassless swamp, I am not sure how to grow grass in a yard where 16 paws regularly run, wrestle, and dig. I do, however know how to mop up mud. Mud is tracked in daily, I do sweep and mop, but it is always present. When the mud dries, it converts to dust, which is stirred and deposited on everything. All of my windows have paw and nose prints. The corner of the couch has been gnawed. The only room that is safe, is my bedroom, as the dogs have been exiled from there.

I sometimes fantasize about a dog-free house, but they are in reality my children, only they will never grow up and get their own place. It was never my plan to house four dogs. It just happened. We had one dog, Max, who lived 21 years before we had to euthanize him. When he turned 18, I did not believe he had more than another year in him and allowed my son to get a puppy. Max hated Rosco! We added another dog from the pound to serve as a buffer. And then I found a dog at the rest area on the way home from Florida. When we lost one dog due to an intestinal torsion, my boss happened to have a litter of puppies. Then this year, after Max died, I was asked to foster a dog for one month. It is now three months later. The problem is, I am a sucker for a cold wet nose and furry feet and everyone knows it. (Just for the record, I tend to prefer the opposite of that in men.) I am the first person someone talks to when they have to find a home for a dog. I try not to listen now, I am at my limit, on space and on money. They go through 40 pounds of dog food a week with no problem. Dog licenses cost me $70 and though my vet tries to be kind, I do not even want to add up her bills.

What do I get in return for my canine generousity? Dog hair and paw prints on every outfit I wear, no matter how quickly I make it out the door. One hundred pounds of dog on my lap, as I try to type my homework. Pure and unconditional love times four. What more could I want!