dogs

The Terror is Real…

Leave a comment

I have told you about my wee (cat) dog Lucy.  Happy Birthday!  She is now 8 years old.  She is my mixed shi-poo (shit-zu/poodle mix) breed.  She is dysfunctional as a dog.  Why?  Lucy was diagnosed with strangles at 3 months.  The cure for this illness was to suppress her immune system.  Being prone to infection, that meant no going out for walks, no meeting other dogs.  I couldn’t give her puppy training like I had with Waldo.  With Waldo I got to take him to puppy classes so he could play with other dogs and meet other people and get to know the world around him.  What happened next?

I thought I came up with a genius plan.  When I would take Waldo out for his walks, I would put Lucy in an insulated lunch bag, which I would carry on my shoulder, and let her head peek out so she could get accustomed to sights and sounds in the neighbourhood.  She would slip her head out and I hoped she would get used to the sounds of cars and buses and airplanes, the noise of other dogs, the noise of people talking.  I wanted her to see bicycles and motorcycles.  She needed to get used to the world like Waldo did.

Well…it didn’t quite work out as I had hoped.  The only dogs she could be exposed to were…well…only Waldo.  She had been on the immune suppressing drugs for over 3 months and my nightly walks did not really help her see the real world.  How do I know this?  A leaf blows by…DANGER!  She barks at it.  A butterfly goes flying by…DANGER!  She barks at it. Wheelchairs.  DANGER!  Birds.  DANGER!  “Well, if she isn’t a good dog, then why is she barking at stuff like a normal dog would?” you may be asking.  Dysfunctional, but observant, is my Lucy.

Being quarantined with Sir Waldo, she learned what to do by imitating him.  She barks at EVERYTHING hoping she will get it right.  She will bark and Waldo will come running.  If it’s a leaf…he won’t bark.  After all these years she still can’t get it right.  Example:  He will bark at a bird.  He is facing the bird and barking at it.  What does Lucy do?   She stands in front of him, facing him and barks at HIM.  Great dog (dripping with sarcasm)!

I told you that whole story to tell you this story:

Today, poor girl needed a haircut.  Sadly her big bro, her protector and guide, had to stay home.  He has an infection.  I put the leash on her.  Normally she barks like crazy, but this time there was only silence.  We got in the car.  Silence.  She shook nervously in the car the whole drive there (8 minutes).  Normally she would be barking up a storm to impress her brother, but he wasn’t there.  I parked and looked to my left and that’s when I saw it.  An abandoned shopping cart.  I debated moving, but then thought I could get her out of the car without noticing.  Nope.  Oh the horror and terror!  Lucy went wild!  She knew it was evil!

 

We got into the store and she barked at every dog she saw (at Petsmart) because that is what her brother had taught her.  We got to the grooming salon.  I had carried her the whole way (all 9 lbs of her) because it was rainy and icky outside.  Well, I put her down so that she could feel like a dog again.  She scampered over to me, she stood on her hind legs and with her front paws scratched at my legs.  I picked her up.  She was still shaking.  Where was Waldo when she needed him?!

Her haircut was actually a trim.  She was there for a total of 20 minutes.  I came back to pick her up and she gave me an earful of complaints.  From the time I picked her up, paid for the cut, drove home, the barking did not subside.  I was evil and she was letting me know it.  Once we got through the front door she went running to find her big brother and tell HIM everything that had happened to her.  After finally exhausting herself with all the barking, she felt safe once again and perched herself up on her lookout chair, looking through the window to make sure she would be the first to bark and protect us from any imminent danger.

IMG_2710

Lucy the “cat” dog. Dogs don’t sit like this.

Here is a list of the most perilous items that she needs to warn us about:  leaves, butterflies, birds, children walking by, adults walking by, teenagers walking by, people walking by carrying groceries, letter carriers, strollers, bicycles, tricycles, buses, cars, motorcycles, lawnmowers, weed-whackers, squirrels, birds, people waiting at the bus stop, rabbits, cats, garbage trucks, recycling trucks, garbage blowing by, wheelchairs, scooters, and anything she has never seen before…like a shopping cart in the parking lot.  Yes, that would be the short list.

Now we come to dogs; other dogs.  Barking, walking, running…those, she has learned, are what she really needs to keep her guard up for.  For, when a dog goes walking by, she has learned to bark incessantly and the look around to see when Waldo will come to bark his approval of her house defense.  Then she is so full of pride because her brother, the one who never wants to play with her or be near her, will come and bark too so that they can quell the offender.  Yes, the terror is real…my dogs (dog and half-dog) can confirm that.

The Last Mile or…850 Metres to School

Leave a comment

I am a survivor of my childhood.  With all the helmets, and helicopter parenting going on nowadays, it’s a wonder that I am still alive to share any stories of my childhood.  Perhaps I am one of the lucky survivors.  Today I will share with you the terrifying tale of a specific part of my childhood.  Luckily, no child in this day and age in North America, will have to survive this kind of ordeal.

My mother had (and has) a green thumb.  No, not gangrene.  For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it means she can take any flower or plant (dead or alive) and make it blossom and grow.  When we moved into our new “forever home”, my mother decided that it would be wonderful to have dahlias in front of our house.  My mother loved them.  I dreaded them.  Why?  They were the perfect hiding spot for my sworn insect enemy…the grasshopper.  Foliage and insects were to be my yearly springtime horror story.

IMG_3080

As a child who had just moved into a new neighbourhood, there were already many challenges that I had to deal with.  New school.  New friends (or lack thereof).  New teachers.  Every spring I would walk out my front door, look to my right and see the tall, green, leafy dahlias with their perky red flowers; they were taunting me.  They knew they harboured my repulsive flying insect enemies.  I would take a deep breath and prepare myself for the attack.  My mother would be behind me in the doorway yelling at me to hurry up so I wouldn’t be late for school.  What did she know.  There was going to be a volley of insects flying at my head ready to blind me with every step.  It would take precision and trickery to fool my flying enemies.  My plan of action:  One step forward and two steps back.  I remember taking one step forward and, as I was taking my “two steps back”, IT would fly out of the dahlia bush.  Sure, this took about 5 to 9 minutes to accomplish my trek, but my head would not be permanently scarred by grasshopper kamikaze.  Mission accomplished.

IMG_3081

Oh, the trials and tribulations of walking to school.  Directions were not an issue.  All I had to do was turn right out of my driveway and keep walking until I got to school.  No problem there.  However, there were some challenges I experienced along the way.  Here are but a few:

  • RABID DOG:  I would be walking to school and see a dog.  It was a ferocious dog.  There was no owner walking with that dog.  Its teeth were bared and ready to sink its jaws into my neck and rip me apart.  (Ok, I have a flare for the dramatic.)
    • Usually, I would see the dog and cross the street.  If, perchance, it decided to follow me, I would point my index finger at it and yell loudly, “Go home!” as my mother had taught me to do.  Not sure why it understood me, but it would usually just meander away.
  • UNEVEN SIDEWALK:  I was one of the lucky (unlucky?) kids who didn’t have to eat lunch at school.  I could go home for lunch!  Ok, I’ll be honest, I loved coming home for a yummy hot meal.  However, as attention spans go, I was always a dreamer and it took me longer to get home than most obedient children.  By the time I got home, my mother was fuming and force-feeding me so that I would get back on time.  On parent teacher interview day, I was lectured and pre-reprimanded about being home on time for lunch.  That day I ran home and totally missed seeing the lump of dirt that was suddenly on the sidewalk and WHAM!  Face first into the lovely cement sidewalk.  I made it home on time!  I also made it back to school on time too.  Kudos to me!  My unpopularity became even more pronounced with the appearance of a bandage across my nose.IMG_3082
  • STRANGERS IN CARS:  I remember being lectured about not talking to strangers.  I got in big “doo-doo-ka-ka” when a strange lady in a car stopped beside me as I was walking to school.  Why?  Apparently “stranger lady” was my aunt’s friend coming to visit her and she was trying to ask me for directions.  (Note:  never ask me for directions.  I really have no idea where places are, what streets are called, and basically, I usually don’t know where I am.  There.  You’ve been told.)
  • BULLIES:  When my brother was old enough to attend the same school, he decided that he wanted to tell the local bully off.  My sister job was to protect my younger brother.  One day, it got so bad that Mini-bully-boy picked up a big, gargantuan rock and threw it high up in the air to annihilate my baby bro.  What happened?  I stepped in to block the rock and it landed ungracefully on my big toe.  What happened next?  I limped for several weeks.  My toe nail fell off after turning completely blue / purple / green / yellow.  Oh the rainbow of pain!

Remarkable isn’t it.  I walked through snow, wind, sleet, thunderstorms, humidity, and grasshopper skies.  I walked all the way to school.  Not once, but twice a day!  Oh sure, I had an umbrella.  I had winter boots.  I had a winter coat.  I also walked the last mile…or 850 metres.  Uphill.  Both ways.  And I survived.

Lucy… I’m Home! Lequitia? Looowee?

Leave a comment

I wrote about one dog love (my puppy / doggy Waldo) and today I will tell you the story of Lucy.  If you read my previous blog, you would’ve learned about my fear of dogs and how I came to own one myself.  This is the story of how a little black and white shi-poo came to be part of our family.

Waldo (a.k.a. “Fabio” the dog who believes he is the be all and end all) was our only fuzzy friend.  He came to us from a pet store that Princess worked at.  Hubby came home one day with a scared, little black Shi-poo.  She was being picked on by the pure bred shitzus so Princess asked if he could save her.  He did.  Roxanne became Waldo’s little sister.

Roxanne and Waldo were meant to be together.  Waldo was only one month older than his new sister.  When they napped, Roxanne would put her head on top of Waldo’s neck.  They ran around excitedly. Roxanne running out front and Waldo running after her.  We had a great little dog team, but it was short lived.  One day we had the backyard gate open and the chase continued from the backyard, spilling over into the front yard.  Speedy Roxanne ran happily out into the street and was hit by a passing pickup truck.  She died instantly.  Wiseguy and I were traumatized .  Waldo was devastated.  Waldo would sit by the window every day to try and find his playmate.  I thought we should find him someone new to play with.

Imagine my surprise when Wiseguy told me that he was coming home with a new puppy.  She was seven weeks old.  When I came home I couldn’t believe how tiny she was!  (Wiseguy named her Lucy because of the line from the “I Love Lucy” show where Desi would come home and holler “Luuuucy I’m home!”)  My wee little hairball had a head of black hair with white hairs just above the eyes;  they looked like an old man’s grey eyebrows.   Her black head sat on a completely white body.  So tiny and spunky and yippy and beyond adorable.  She was a shi-poo with spunk!  She was scampering around everywhere!  We found Waldo a new playmate!  Except for one thing:  Waldo hated her.

Waldo kept walking away from her.  He would climb on a step or jump on the couch so she couldn’t reach him.  Too much pawing and nipping and especially the scampering!  Poor Waldo.  We wanted to find him a mate and we found him an annoyance.  I guess that one year difference was just too much.  Oh well, Lucy was with us to stay.

Our new addition became ill after 3 months.  Lucy had strangles.  What?  Worse case scenario the illness could have strangled her to death.  For three months she had to take meds to kill her autoimmune system.  No regular dog walks because she could get an even deadlier infection.  Sadly her world exposure was quite hampered.  As such she barks at the following:  all people walking or running, people on bicycles or skateboards,  buses driving by, birds, leaves, air.  You get the idea.  For three months of her life all she had was Waldo as her dog example.  She even pees like Waldo; one hind leg up.   She never got to sniff or see or play with any other dogs.  She survived and became a unique (?) dog.

For some reason my little 10 lb. pup likes to play fetch.  A shi-poo that plays fetch?  Weird.  She likes to lick her paws like a cat.  When Waldo is looking out the window and barks at something outside, she will stand up on her hind legs and bark as well.  Why is she barking?  Because Waldo is.  If I leave them at doggie daycare, Waldo will hang out near her to protect her because she doesn’t really know how to be with dogs (we think she believes she is a cat).  After his big brother duty is done, he will saunter off.  Lucy will whine and be miserable if her big brother isn’t around.  Sounds like a regular human relationship between brother and sister right?

Although her name is Lucy, she will come when I call any name that starts off with the “loo” sound.  Lucy, Lulu, Lequitia (that was a favourite for a few months), Lucifer (haha), and most recently my niece’s little one who will be two in a couple of months called her “Loooweee”.  Lucy came.

So now you know the story of my two favourite cuddle-puppies.  Waldo, our pretty boy  who is very vocal when he wants something.  Lucy, the quiet cat-like dog who loves to cuddle and lick.  Lick everything and anything.  If she needs to go out she will sit and stare at you.   That’s your first clue.  If you don’t get it from that silent clue, she will jump onto your lap and start licking your face off.  No barking.  It’s her trademark “I need to poo” move.  Throw a ball and she will fetch to the point of retching.  Crazy dog.

If I had to do a dating profile for Lucy it would read as follows:  LOVE baths (I jump into the tub myself).  I HATE, HATE, HATE having my hair brushed.  Love walks so I can bark at everything and everyone.  Love to lick my paws.  Love to lick your face.  Love to be cuddled and coddled.  I will head butt you if you hold onto the ball and won’t throw it for me to fetch.  I am 7 years old and I run around like a puppy.  You may find me weird at first, but I have my own special qualities.  Love Lucy (aka Lequitia / Lucifer / Lulu / Loooweee)

P.S.  I love Waldo

Fuzzy Wuzzy…was NOT a bear

Leave a comment

With my new career change and my new life, it’s nice to have something that remains constant.  Something that is familiar.  Something that I love.  Something that I can come home to and know it will be there for me.  Always happy to see me.  Always there to greet me.  Yes, you would think that I am speaking about my beloved “Wiseguy” husband.  It could be my handsome man, but sometimes he works nights and he is not there for me upon my return.  When he is not home, I have two fuzzy wuzzies that are always super happy to see me when I get home.  I have two fluffy puppies (until they get haircuts), but no matter how challenging a day I have had, their wet noses and wagging tails make me melt and forget about any trials and tribulations.  This is the story of how the first fuzzy wuzzy came into my life.

I hated dogs.  Period.  Yes, my early years, my teen years, my early adult years, I hated dogs.  Actually, I didn’t hate them, but they terrified me!  I always thought they were going to jump on me and wrestle me to the ground and eat my face off.  How did I get this insane conception?  No idea.  For years I just new that all I had to yell was, “Go home!” and they should go scurrying off.  Did it always work?  In most cases.  So, how did an anti-dog person suddenly become the owner of, not one, but two dogs?

Whilst Wiseguy was working nights, I was alone and wanted company.  I told him I wanted a dog.  He laughed. He chuckled.  He chortled (oh yes he did!).  With the comment of:  “You hate dogs.”  Yes, he was right.  The reason I began thinking I wanted an animal was something a friend said. He had just become the new owner of a German Shepherd.  I told him I could never visit him because I was terrified of dogs.  He said quite simply, “Oh, I don’t like other people’s dogs but I love mine.”  That got me thinking.  Yeah.  If I trained my dog then I would love it.  Wiseguy still thought I was crazy.  Even worse, I told him I would call my dog Barney.  Well, he poo-pooed me every night.  I kept going to bed at night wishing that I could have my Teddy-bear dog.

I wished for a tan coloured little pooch with little dark eyes.  I knew it should be a him and not a her.  I just felt it was right.  (I have these wonky extra-terrestrial powers I think).  So, imagine my surprise when after about 4 weeks my stepdaughter called, super-excited with this news:  “You aren’t going to believe this!  I got an interview at a pet store.”  Well, now you see how my hokey-pokey magic wish powers just seemed to come to fruition.  What happened next?

After a week at the new job, I decided to visit her and see how she was liking her new job.  She was always incredible with animals and this was a perfect fit for her.  I told Wiseguy that I was going to visit her and asked if he wanted to come along.  Sure.  So, off we went.  We arrived and Princess was super happy with her job.  FANTASTIC!  Suddenly, my eyes locked on this little furball.  He just sat there.  The other pups scampered around him and he just sat there.  Princesses’ sister (who also worked there) asked me if I wanted to hold him.  Hold?  Him?  I have held over 100 children, but 4-legged creatures…never!  She brought him to me and put him in my arms.  He sat there.  He didn’t move.  He didn’t bark.  The anti-dog.  I was amazed at this 10-week old teddy bear.  They had a little room that you could sit in to get to know one another.  I placed my little furball on the floor and he WENT NUTS!   He was scurrying and jumping and yipping and I didn’t know what to do!  Wiseguy was laughing at me (justifiably).  He came in and rescued me.  How?  He picked up the foot long fuzzy and placed in my arms where he promptly relaxed and just let me carry him around.  I fell in love with this little cutie.  What happened next?

Barney came home with us except he was renamed Waldo.   Like “Where’s Waldo?”  Wiseguy is great at naming people (children) and animals. Fuzzy wuzzy…has kept me sane.  At first I used to call Wiseguy and cry.  I had never had a pet before and suddenly I had this 6 lb furball biting me and scratching and whimpering and barking.  It was a learning experience with a puppy, but I did survive.  Waldo (now 8 years old and I like to call him Fabio).  He knows he is beautiful.  When his hair gets long (part shitzu-part poodle) he needs a haircut(e).  (lol!  My own funny.)  Biblically he is like Samson (and Delilah if you need to google).  When his hair is short (that is his “Baldo” phase) he is “sprite-like” as the 10 week old that I met. No matter what, Waldo aka Baldo aka Fabio is special.  Why?

Where’s Waldo?  As a dating profile I think he would say:  Hate baths, but love long brushes.  Hate squirrels, airplanes, ambulances.  Love robust trees. love waldo XOXO

P.S. I am beautiful and fuzzy but I am not a bear.  I am sure you bears are jealous! Love Waldo.  aka Waldorfson

Puppy love…

Leave a comment

Let me tell you about puppy love.  Her name is Lucy.  Bet you thought I was going to talk about young love.  Although crushes and the youth dating scene is quite intriguing, I am going to tell you about my puppy love. 

I have two puppy loves.  Waldo, my first puppy is now 4 and Lucy is 3 years old.  Both are shi-poos.  We call them “puppy” all the time because they are small.  Well, actually, Waldo is over 20 lbs, but little Lucy is a meer 10 lbs.  My story shall continue with puppy love Lucy and all the excitement in her life to date.

We got her at 7 weeks when she was just a wee, bitty furball.  Her little, hairy body was white and her head was covered in black hair.  Very funny because whenever she sat down, she looked like a defective snowman.  From the first visit to the veterinarian, we heard that her one leg was clicking and we could operate later to have it fixed.  (Well, she runs like the wind now and our theory is, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.)  After 3 months of having Lucy at home, I noticed one day that her eyes were watering.  Hmmmm, that was odd.  I monitored it and by the next day it got worse.  We decided it was time to visit the vet and see what was going on.  Well, our usual vet was on vacation so we booked an appointment with one of the other doctor’s.  He provided me with some eye cream for her and home we went. 

So, I put this cream in her eyes, poor wee puppy.  I did this for 3 days and it didn’t seem to be getting better.  Not better at all.  We went back to the clinic and our regular doctor was there.  I told her about how I was taking a picture of Lucy running at me and I noticed that her lips were swollen and her eyes seemed like they were bugging out.  The vet handed me a few sheets of paper and said, “She has strangles.”  What the heck is strangles?  Well, she explained that strangles is a rare disease that some puppies get.  Basically the immune system goes into overdrive and if not treated, will actually lead to strangulation of the animal.  We collected our new set of pills and took puffy, puppy Lucy home again. 

Now, with Waldo, I took him to puppy training classes so he could learn to play and become a good dog.  Poor Lucy.  She was quarantined.  Her meds were so strong because basically they were killing her immune system so that her immune system wouldn’t kill her.  We were told NO being around other animals.  NO walks because she could pick up infections from the grass where other animals had been.  Poor Lucy.  So, I packed up my little 3 lb puppy and tucked her into a soft padded square lunch tote and carried her around outside so that she could see the world and hear its sounds so that she would get accustomed to them.

Three months passed and therapy was over.  YAY!  Now we could go for walks and do other fun things.  Lucy was not a good walker.  She could walk but would zig and zag between my legs and get wrapped up in Waldo’s leash.  And she barked…endless barking and barking and barking and barking at anything that passed her.  I think she has supersonic hearing.  She will start barking at nothing and then 2 minutes later we will see a bus drive by.  Well, I guess with all her other ailments something must work well.  Oh, did I mention that the reason why her eyes were always watering.  We heard from the vet that her bottom eyelashes are turned inward instead of outward so her tear ducts are constantly working.  Uh huh.  That’s the Life of Lucy.

Well, our little puppy love survived all those ailments.  She loves to play fetch.  She loves to jump around and have fun.  She loves to cuddle.  Monkey Breath calls her “old man” cause her face does look like that of an old man.  We like to call her Fang too because her underbite (yup, she has that too) leaves her one canine tooth jutting out.  Quite funny to see.

Right now, little Lucy is in surgery.  Yes it’s true.  I found her little butt swollen yesterday.  How it happened I have no idea.  Back to the vet.  This part is quite icky gross so I’ll let you read it if you would like the details.  Swollen anal gland.  Her’s ruptured.  ‘Nuff said.  So, now she is having surgery.

I am sure that in the future there will be more visits to the vets for Lucy.  Call it intuition or déjà vu.  There is one thing that amazes me about this furry little 10 lb wonder.  No matter what kinds of ailments life throws at her she always bounces back.  She runs and plays and enjoys life.  I know that animals can’t complain, but I don’t see her cowering in a corner and giving up on life.  Most of us have been through tough times in our lives where we just want out of the world and curl up into a ball and feel sorry for ourselves.  My puppy love is always loving and cuddly no matter how she feels.  When she barks she is invincible.  Every moment is enjoyed.  Even while sleeping, you will oftentimes find her on her back with her belly in the air.  Now that’s comfort.

Five years ago I would’ve thought anyone crazy to have such strong feelings about their pets.  Now I’m part of the crazy club of dog owners and loving my puppy love.

It takes a village…

Leave a comment

Wiseguy was a very lucky man today.  No…a VERY lucky grandfather today.  He got to babysit…nope….entertain…little Kennie.  Believe me….she played games with him as much as he played games with her.  A battle of wits.  Entertaining?  Yes.  Tiring?  Absolutely.

Growing up, my mother always told me that she felt bad because I didn’t have grandparents or great grandparents.  “I have to be your mother, grandmother, great grandmother, best friend.”  That never made sense to me.  I thought she was just rambling…you know…the way mothers always do, and it never made sense.

Well, becoming an aunt was a learning experience.  I remember talking to my first nephew and niece (only 17 months apart) and trying to impart words of wisdom without having them burst into tears.  Then later, I became a stepmother.  Mother might have been easier, don’t know, but stepmother, to tweens and teens, not easy either.  Lots of “behind the door” tears because I couldn’t show hurt or failure.  I lived and survived it and learned a lot from that experience. 

Now, we’re at the fun part of  life.  Becoming a grandma at 42.  Although surprising, it was AWESOME!  I still have energy to keep up with the wee wonder-girl!  Our Kennie (who will be 2 years old at the end of august) is just hilarious.  Her two-syllable vocabulary and her imitations are amazing and fun and entertaining and adorable.  You can see how much time her mom spends with her.  She teaches her many things from singing to counting (by the way…counting starts like this..you say “one” and she continues with “two” …there is no “one” in her vocab.  Anyway, toddlers are fun.  Entertaining, fun, and…extremely tiring.

So, when Wiseguy told me that he got to babysit (ahem…hang out with) little Kennie, I was jealous…in a happy way.  It’s nice for him to have fun play time with little Kennie. 

Honestly, kids have an amazing view of the world and what is determined as “fun”.  Grandpa was brilliant.  He decided that it was time to water the flowers in the backyard.  “Kennie do.”  Yup, the hose, full of water, was initially aimed at watering the flowers.  Then it became a fountain, spraying on Kennie and the puppies and everywhere BUT the flowers.  Fun? Totally!  What else did the dynamic duo do? 

They ran around the house.  They drew pictures.  They ate fruit.  They played with the “Gogs” (aka dogs).  They had  lunch.  Then grandma came home at lunch and luckily got to put little Kennie down for a nap.  Nothing like watching a wee child sleep in peace.  Those little breaths in and out and that peaceful look on their face.  Absolute comfort and happiness.

After work, Grandma came home to the welcoming, happy face of wee Kennie and “come”…time to play.  We forget to play.  We adults play, but sadly, it’s usually a play to win situation.  Grandma just had to play with Kennie by dancing.  A little boogie woogie and giggling with mommy.  Then I had Kennie help set the table because “Kennie do” was all I heard.

Grandpa Wiseguy was happy.  He got to have fun playing games with the pre-two year old all day.  She had a two hour nap.  She scarfed down lunch.  She gave lots of hugs and held his hand and helped water the flowers and played drums and just gabbed and laughed and played with grandpa. 

After Princess and Little Kennie went home after dinner, I got a lovely text message “out like a lightbulb”.  I was so happy that Kennie had a  wonderful day with both grandpa and great-grandpa.  I texted back:  Grandpa out too.

Sweet dreams Grandpa.  You done good.

(Just a small note:   I have heard this phrase many times before, but in case you haven’t…it takes a village to raise a child.  The more the merrier.  All hands on deck.  Lots of supervision, lots of love, and lots of different views from different generations.  Yes, it does take a loving village to raise a child.)

Remember to look up…

Leave a comment

Does your brain have these kinds of thoughts running through it:  I hope there isn’t a big line up at the grocery store.  Just have to grab a few things and then go home and let the dogs out quickly.  I have to drop off my library books because they are due back today.  Oh I must remember to get a new battery for my watch.  I hope that meat is thawed for dinner.  What else should I make with it?  Darn, forgot about the dry cleaning.  I’ll get that tomorrow.  No, drat, I can’t.  I need that shirt for tomorrow.  I was having a typical crazy day like that.  Then something happened.   I had to stop at yet ANOTHER red light.  Aw….c’mon!  This is a long light too!  I huffed and puffed and looked at the clock then sat back and looked up.  I smiled.  I forgot how beautiful the sky was.

So, I sat there at this everlasting, red-light, intersection, and smiled like a crazy person.  I saw the puffy white clouds just hanging around.  I saw two birds chirping and whizzing about each other, just playing and having fun.  Then a bee flew by (ok, I closed my window for that one) but it was pretty.  Then I noticed the escarpment and how pretty the trees looked in the afternoon sun.  Deep breath and relax.  I thought, “I will make it to every place I need to be and everything will be fine.”

I do believe in a higher being.  Being Catholic I grew up with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.  I have read up on other religions as well.  There is always a god of some sort.  There is something that watches over us and if we actually just believe that everything will be fine, and let this higher being take control, our lives will be easier.

I have found that the older I get the more I realize what is most important in life.  I will play and cuddle with my dogs instead of vacuuming.  Dust will always be there (and it will outlive me), but spending happy times with those around me is what matters most.  I stress a lot less about cleaning. 

I used to actually collapse into a dishevelled pile in a corner whenever I just finished cleaning and then found crumbs, again, on the floor.  WHY ME!  Crazy right?  I do think about how my “perfection problem” used to affect everyone.  I would want every meal perfect.  I would want my house spotless.  If something was not going right I would lose my mind and yell at the people I most cared about.  Why?  Why did I find inanimate objects to be more important than the living, breathing people and animals around me?  That was an awakening moment.

Now, if a meal screws up or I run out of time, no biggie.  I know that everything will be fine.  I will have my internal peace and those people who love me won’t care if everything is perfect.  Those that aren’t particularly my biggest fans, well, I realize that I can’t and won’t be everyone’s favourite person.  My opinion of myself is what matters most.  By loving myself, and who I am, I can’t help but be a happier person and those around me will be happier too (mostly because I won’t be freaking out on everyone). 

Sure, I still have my meltdown moments (Wiseguy can attest to that).  It usually happens when I think I’m all on my own doing everything.  When I remember to look up and see how everything is working out fine for wildlife, I realize that the universe is taking care of me as well, if I would just let it.  Have some faith and go with the flow.