Last weekend I had the pleasure of spending time with Donnie Van Donnie’s family. Drove about five hours on Friday up to the middle of nowhere (across the PA line into the woods of New York). It was exactly what I needed…to do a whole lot of nothing.
Well, I did love on this little pup:
And I did go for a walk with two boys…one 10 and one five. A few paces from the house we found a shovel and apparently that is quite entertaining to those of the male persuasion. Also interesting? Their fascination with, and love of, a hatchet. Due to it being the first day of deer season in NY we couldn’t walk too terribly far, just around the pond and over to a line of pine trees, but it was still fun listening to those two talk and watching them work together to dig a hole. When I went back to the house to go get my camera they hid in the tress to scare me upon my return. Fortunately the dog gave them away or I would have had nightmares and had to beat the kids. Yes, I am totally a chickenshit and yes, everything shows up in my dreams.
Maybe it was the inevitable worm find that made digging the hole all worthwhile?
One of the guys (Amish Henry who went with us to a football game) shot a deer. It was the first time I watched a deer being skinned and beheaded. It didn’t disturb me like I thought it might. Actually, the whole process was quite educational and not gross. Maybe because Henry was quick and clean, I don’t know. All I know is that at one point Donnie stepped into the view of my camera to give me the shocker. Coz we are classy like that.
Donnie also has a sheep on his property that I was intrigued by. She was incredibly shy and would run if you looked at her too long so I couldn’t get close to get a decent photo, but she sure did eat a bunch of grass. Wonder if I could just borrow her long enough for her to get my grass manageable. Hmmmm.
I needed the getaway, but my two boys get sad when they see me packing. They are so pathetic when the realize I am preparing to go away. See? Pathetic:
(Yes, the previous owners put orange carpet in my bedroom. No, I haven’t done a damn thing about it. Hush!)
Ξ September 10th, 2009 | → 5 Comments | ∇ dogs |
Anyone who knows me for more than five minutes knows I have dogs. Dogs that are not small. A hunting dog, Reilly, and a guard dog, Ludo. No surprise that I love dogs. While I am an animal lover who appreciates reptiles and fish (I have two dwarf frogs, both named Bob, and a Beta, Herc), I am first and foremost a dog person. Plus, living with my Monster and Beast means this house is not cat friendly.
So why do you think Petsmart sent me a sample of the new cat appetizer that Fancy Feast is shilling these days? I have that dumb fucking card that tracks every damn purchase I make at Petsmart so they should know I only buy two bags of Blue Buffalo (30 pounds each) and two Bil-Jac liver treats plus various chew toys EVERY FUCKING TIME I GO THERE. Yes, every time. Never once have I bought anything cat related.
I’m a marketing girl and it just pisses me off that they wasted precious marketing dollars on this crap when they have access to data on every purchase I make. And I mean, who the fuck buys appetizers for cats anyhow? Cat food appetizers should be a little cat food given earlier in the day or a piece of cheese from your plate or something. Sheesh.
Wonder if my dogs would eat the silly cat food appetizer. It seems such a waste to pitch it. And someone sure is sitting pretty in anticipation.
(But I still ain’t buying the stuff.) 
Ξ April 28th, 2009 | → 8 Comments | ∇ dogs |
Every morning when I take my shower Reilly either lays on the chair in my bedroom or on whatever t-shirt I slept in that is now on the floor and Ludo lays either on the bathmat or in the dining room at the sliding glass door. Louie is a German Shepherd and feels compelled to guard me, even in my own bathroom.
After I have my wet hair up in a towel and one another towel around me I’ll ask if the boys want to go back outside. They always do, although they usually only are out long enough to chase all birds and squirrels from the premises. While I get dressed Reilly follows me back to the bedroom and Ludo slowly returns to lay back down in the dining room at the door. Louie won’t stay outside if I close the door. I guess he needs to see us to guard us.
Now that the weather is a perfect 50 or 60 degrees in the mornings, I have been leaving the sliding glass door open while I shower and get ready. I thought it was cute yesterday morning that Lou ventured outside for a while. He returned several times to confirm that Reilly and I were ok, but he eventually settled down on the back porch.
Today I came out in my towels and Reilly was right there, laying on my bedroom floor on the shirt I slept in, but Lou wasn’t on the porch. I stepped onto the porch and his head whipped around. Seems he was sitting as close to the porch as he could while still sitting alert in the yard.
Good guard dog.
Annnnd the not so good guard dog. More of a distracted by me puppy.
It finally snowed some last weekend. Yay! It was only a few inches, but it made me happy.
Apparently I am not alone in my love of the snow. Seems my boys do as well.
Actually, it’s just Ludo who loves to play in the snow.
Reilly? Not so much. He tolerates it because I am out there, but he’s the first to the door when I say that we are done.
For the record, Lou is pretty happy inside with a plastic lizard to carry around instead of the big red ball. When I walked into the house, his favorite squeaky toy was awaiting. (Years ago this lizard was on top of a tasty adult beverage, The Lounge Lizard from North Park Clubhouse. A few years of being carried around by a little German boy unfortunately resulted in the loss of a toe or two, but really it is no worse for the wear.)
Reilly, however, just wants to lay on my head while I lay on the couch.
Ξ December 22nd, 2008 | → 23 Comments | ∇ dogs |
I had never been hit from across the room with the feeling of Love At First Sight. C’mon, across a room! Hell, I didn’t even think I really believed in such things. Until Saturday, when all that changed and my life will never be the same.
Friday night Cinderella and little Tito went with me to a customer’s annual Christmas party. We had a blast and the girls had a damn fine buzz on by the time we all left. I went home, they went out to drink some more with K and K’s husband (Pooper). Late night for that crew led to Saturday morning us meeting for a waaaay late breakfast. We went to an adorable little diner out in Moon Township that I had been craving for a while. We feasted like the queens and king that we are, then broke for our various errands. They all were doing Christmas shopping, but all I needed was to pick up some dog food at Petsmart. Seems like I am always picking up dog food at Petsmart, but my boys are worth it.
There I am, standing in the aisle talking to the lady who reps the Blue Buffalo food that I feed Reilly and Ludo when I glance to my left. At the end of the aisle I see him. Our eyes meet. The connection is held. We stare at each other without moving. I remind myself to breathe and break the eye contact, struggling to intelligently speak to the dog food sales lady. She asks me if I know the guy at the end of the aisle.
Guy? What guy? All I see is the most beautiful little puppy, calmly laying in a tiny jail cell. He has jumped into my heart and taken over to the point that I can’t take my eyes off of him.
But I already have two incredible dogs and I only have two hands. In an effort to not become some crazy dog lady, I have promised myself that I will never have more dogs than there are hands in the house. I am at my dog limit.
Yet he calmly gnaws his bone, holding my gaze. No barking, no bullshit. After mindlessly placing two 30 pound bags of food into my cart I am asked by the sales rep if I am going down to meet the dogs the shelter has brought. “No, I can’t. If I go down there I won’t leave without that little red and white dog. I can’t handle meeting those dogs. I don’t want to cry.”
Those words were spoken as I was slowly walking towards the well behaved little guy. I never looked at any of the volunteers from the shelter, just focused on the puppy who refused to take his gorgeous brown eyes from mine. I squatted down without saying a word and our eye contact was maintained. He didn’t move, just continued to chew his rawhide and look at me quizzically.
“Are you interested in a puppy?”
“No. Not at all. I don’t want another dog. Cannot have another dog.”
Somehow, even as I was saying those words, I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching out for the cage door. Both hands now, flat against the jail door. The little Australian cattle dog left the bone and while maintaining our stare, sniffed my hands. When he licked my hand I couldn’t keep my eyes from leaking, the tears overflowed their border in a flash flood that I should have been better prepared for.
“Would you like to take him for a walk?”
I replied, “No” as I reached for the leash. Instead of bolting, the little boy let me reach in and hook the leash to his collar, then he excitedly bounded out for me. A paw on each of my shoulders and his nose to my nose. Then he licked my nose. Just like my Reilly sneaks in, this little boy managed to lick my nose.
“How old?”
“About eight or nine months. We found him abandoned and the vet thinks he might have been born in late April. He has been at the shelter for several months.”
Several months? Dammit, the tears flooded my face again. How could such a sweet and gentle little boy still be at the shelter after such a long time? Why hadn’t someone opened their home and heart by now? I thought everyone wanted a puppy and not an older dog. How is it that he is still living in a box? Who did I know who could handle a dog with high energy?
I left all of my stuff and walked the little guy around the store, talking to him and God. Then I called Aunt Mary. Her last dog passed about a year ago and she vowed no more dogs. She was happily single and enjoying no ties to keep her from going where she wanted, when she wanted. But this sweet little boy has the energy to keep up with her. And judging from the way that he snuggled into my lap when I sat on the floor, he would be a terrific television watching companion as well. Thankfully she answered the phone and I blurted out how I understood she would need help and I would take him when she went on her mission trip in February, but that I would love for her to meet him and if things went well, I would love to buy him as a Christmas present for her. “And me,” I whispered.
After what I could swear was eternity passed, Mare said she would be right out to meet him. I prayed a little more, telling God that I can’t possibly send this little dog back to the shelter and that if Mare didn’t think it was a good fit then I was going to need help in finding him a home. I walked him around Petsmart and he played so well with the other dogs we encountered on “Photos with Santa” day. The only dog with an issue was an older shelter dog that preferred to lay on the ground and not move around too much. Can’t blame him, I wouldn’t want a puppy trying to get my relaxed self up either.
Mare arrived when I was sitting on the floor of Petsmart with the little red/brown and white boy in my lap. It was insanely obvious that we had bonded and he wasn’t exactly warming up to Aunt Mary because I was there. And Mare was starting to bond with the older white dog, the one who didn’t like my puppy. No, please God, help me…help this little puppy.
She would have taken them both, but with the older dog’s blatant dislike of the puppy, I knew it could only be one. Sadly I walked away and found a spot that I could sit alone with the pup. This time I didn’t bother to attempt to stop the tears as I told my new love that it did not seem as though he was going to be able to live with Mare. I explained that I tried, but couldn’t make it work. I apologized for failing and promised to think of something so that he didn’t have to go back to the shelter. As I vowed that he wouldn’t go back to the shelter, his little tongue tried to lick my tears away.
Somehow I gathered my composure and came back to shelter volunteers, the five other dogs up for adoption and my aunt. We talked a bit and she told me that she was going to take the puppy home. She would allow me to purchase him as a Christmas present. My heart soared.
Immediately I whipped out the ole checkbook and wrote out the payment (fee included the cost for the neuter, all shots and a small donation to the shelter). In the notes section I wrote “True Love” and was surprised that the woman caught it. While paperwork was filled out I took the puppy to tell him the good news. We walked a little away from the group. As I was telling him the good news I picked him up and was cradling him in my arms. One of the shelter volunteers came over, the guy with the best bond with the puppy, and told me the pup had never allowed anyone to pick him up like that…he always wiggled free before anyone could get him in the air. I was glad the puppy could tell that he could trust me.
Mare bought dog food, a doggie coat, training treats and a collar with a matching leash for her new dog. While still in the store she decided she liked Ace as a name for him. I bought Ace a pack of rawhides to keep his puppy chewing habit in check. When we parted I couldn’t help but cry more tears, but these were ones of happiness.
Most of my drive home was thanking God for Aunt Mary though huge crocodile tears. Since Mare lives so close to me I shouldn’t have been surprised to find my vehicle pulling up in front of her house instead of my own. We got Ace accustomed to his new home and showed him all around. The little guy is quick and when he runs up onto the couch he hits two feet onto the first cushion, then actually manages to run sideways along the back of the couch before settling on the last cushion. Unreal!
Somehow I drug myself away, home to my two boys who were eager to spend a long time sniffing their soon to be new friend. It made me so happy when Mare called me today to tell me that Ace slept curled up in bed with her, snuggled up in the crook of her arm, under the covers. He has a comfy new home and I am thrilled.
Sunday after the sad Steelers loss I took Reilly over to meet Ace. They got along fine and Reilly only had to put him in his place twice. Other than that, everything went great. Ace is still so young and small (25 pounds or so), which means he is learning. The fact that he wants to learn and to please is glorious.
Twice Sunday Aunt Mare hugged me and thanked me for bringing Ace into her life. She already loves him. I couldn’t be happier.
True Love.
Australian Cattle Dog mix 
Ace.
Ξ December 6th, 2008 | → 13 Comments | ∇ dogs |
Friday’s bulletrama contained the fact that my dogs have last names which differ from my own. The lovely Finn was a tad baffled by the fact that their names don’t match my own. Pretty easy to explain, actually.
See, I don’t consider myself their “mom.” They are not my children. Instead, they are my boys and I am their Becky. We live together in this house with a long backyard, a place I bought for them, but I am not their momma. Sometimes my heart is thisclose to bursting with love for the boys, yet it makes me uncomfortable when someone says something about my babies.
No. Just, no.
Now that we have that out of the way, my dogs are gifts in my life from wonderful people. I did not give birth to either of them.
Reilly’s mom was a beagle and his dad was a black lab. He was born at the vet tech school where a cousin was studying. She brought him home with her as soon as he was old enough to leave his mom. The sweet little boy lived with her for two years until she moved to an apartment that wouldn’t allow dogs of any size. I was desperate for a dog in my life and just so happened to be moving to an apartment which allowed pets. Because I already knew the gentle little Reillymonster, I didn’t hesitate when the offer for him to come live with me was extended.
Eventually I felt bad about leaving Reilly at home all day by himself while I worked. A customer knew my dad had been a city k-9 cop and that I had a soft spot for German Shepherds. He kept pushing me to contact folks an hour plus away from Pittsburgh who accidentally had a litter of puppies incredibly close to Christmas. Gorgeous, purebred pups who cost more than I could afford at the time. So an ex-boyfriend that I was still talking to bought Ludo for me. He sent payment and a note to the seller, asking that the note be handed to me when my then boyfriend wasn’t nearby. I was so touched by his wonderful, generous gesture that somehow it just seemed natural to me for Ludo to carry his last name. He probably doesn’t even know that, but it doesn’t matter. Ludo should still carry his name.
So there you have it. Proof that I am crazy. (As if the internet needed proof!)
Non crazy photos:
Ludo, too young to leave his mom.
Reilly, almost three years old. 
This past October…
My Mom collected rocks. If you asked her what she wanted for her birthday or Christmas she would simply tell you to find her a rock…from your yard or from a gem store, it didn’t matter, she just loved rocks. Mom would always tease me that she was spending my inheritance every time she returned from the Shady Side Mining Company with another necklace or stone. I am one of those who never understood a parent doing without so that their kids could benefit from their death, so I encouraged her spending on items that brought her joy.
Fucked up part is that when Mom died I got all of her precious stones and rocks. Now I find myself collecting them. Nothing like what Mom did, but I certainly appreciate them. Although I have a bunch of her pricey pieces, here is one of my favorites:
Mom used it indoors as a doorstop, but I have it out on the railing of the back porch. A quarter of the railing is covered in rocks from Mom. I love how the setting sun hits the Shalom rock. Just about every sunset I am on the back porch, watching my dogs run around like lunatics, and it makes me happy to see that simple rock. (Partially happy because rocks make me think of Mom; partially happy because Shalom is written on it and I loved that my Mom the ex Catholic nun would light Kwanzaa candles and buy a rock with a Hebrew saying on it.)
Saturday I stayed home and did a whole bunch of nothing in an effort to shake this cold. I seem to be winning (yay!!) because my symptoms are easing, so I think I did the right thing. Instead of pumpkin patches and apple festivals, instead of drinks with Doodle and Dang in one of their yards, I did the right thing and stayed home. Pups appreciated it, too…
(that’s my Reillymonster)
(and his dog, Ludo) 
Not a bad way to spend a Saturday. Tomorrow is the neighborhood block party. I might join for a bit, although I doubt it. Seeing as how I was gone for ten days there is a bunch of stuff I need to take care of. And the weather should be perfect. I might need to take the dogs to a remote park for a good long run. (Be realistic…they will run in the woods, I will walk. 
)
A friend has a camp about 75 miles northeast of the city. Nuttin fancy…a trailer, an outhouse, a swing, covered picnic tables, several four-wheelers, an outdoor beer refrigerator, a fire ring. We are talking the television, which rarely even gets powered on, has rabbit ears. The kind of place where people go to talk and laugh and drink beer around a fire. I love it there.
Friday we drove up after work. One dog, three people, three vehicles. (Sigh, bad planning is terrible for the environment.) This is the first time that I took a dog with me. Couldn’t take them both, so Reilly of course got to go while Ludo spent the night at a friend’s house.
The camp’s owner, who insisted I not put his photos on the internet, is a terrific drinking buddy. We have known each other for almost 10 years because we used to work together. He loves to drink the way I do…entirely too much, not nearly often enough. He introduced me to The Modern Drunkard and my “inner monkey” (although I still do have major issues with drinking alone). I didn’t want to bring my inner monkey out so I wore a hat and the t-shirt I won from Dave…his Bad Monkey was the only little fucker I wanted to see this trip!
Immediately upon arriving the booze and music were brought out. And we didn’t quit until we passed out. I only burned the crap outta myself once (although that little fiasco did lead to my singing “I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire” all night ). Considering I drank a bottle of Svedka Clementine vodka and more shots of Irish whiskey than I care (or can) remember, it is a happy miracle that I didn’t hurt myself worse. All in all there was plenty of laughter, which is always a good thing.
All the laughter made the killer hangover somehow worth it. I woke up on the couch with a wicked headache, but Reilly had to pee and eat breakfast so I somehow managed to get vertical. Soon as he was done we were both back on the couch, desperately trying to catch up on sleep. Entirely too early I awoke again to the Veggie Tales cartoon, all fuzzy on the TV. While I don’t remember turning the set on, I was told that I insisted on watching the Olympics before I would go to sleep. Somehow I don’t doubt it a bit. My favorite part of the day was waking up and seeing all of those trees out the window behind the couch. Least favorite part of the day was the moment after that, when the hangover crashed in.
The drive home was brutal considering that it was a stunningly sunny day. Somehow I made it to pick up Louie and get us all home safely. We all did nothing for an entire day…just recuperated at home on my couch. It is bad when the glow of a monitor might bring on violent hurling, so I didn’t even so much as turn on the computer. The day away from you all was certainly needed, but I missed you. Missed you enough to be typing today with my nasty burned finger…
How could I have omitted a good dog from my list of things that help keep me happy? Also didn’t mention a glass of a cool, tasty beverage with the company of friends. Wow, I certainly was slacking on that one!
There is no way I would be who I am without my dogs. Fortunately my Reilly is one of the happiest little boys I know, even if he doesn’t really know that he’s not human. My favorite thing about him is that so long as he is snuggling and being petted, he is perfectly content.
After his annual check up at the vet’s on Thursday, we stopped over Doodle’s house. She has about 162 indoor cats so we stayed outside. The heat of the day had subsided, leaving a rather pleasant evening for us to enjoy, even if Reilly did scare a few of the two dozen outdoor cats and raccoons upon our arrival. Doodle poured me a glass of chardonnay (J Lohr!!) and proceeded to encourage my Reillymonster onto her lap. All 43 pounds of his little self.
Her husband arrived home right around the same time the pizza showed up so I was able to FINALLY give him his birthday present (a bottle of Ferrari Merlot and a Blogography.com t-shirt – pump up your monkey!). Good conversation, tasty food and drink plus terrific friends. All and all an excellent, relaxing night out.
Before someone gets all pissy and says that I favor Reilly, you are right. I so do. Of course I also love Ludo very much. He was even named after a character in one of my all time favorite movies, The Labyrinth. Louie certainly adds entertainment to my life and I can’t imagine not living with his 90 pound self. So here is happy boy Lou:
How could I possibly be cranky when looking at this:
It is almost 3 and I don’t even have a post up today. What a frikken slacker I am sometimes. Although, in my defense, I had a busy week last week. No matter how gorgeous my hotel was, and how comfy the king sized bed was, I didn’t get much sleep in Atlantic City. There was too much Ketel One to be consumed, too many people to watch, too much fun to be had. Oh yeah, and I had to work the trade show floor also. On top of all of that, travel wipes me out.
Don’t feel too sorry for me being tired, though. We had the good fortune of traveling first class this trip…having a limo pick us up in Philly for the drive to Atlantic City, staying in a new, first rate hotel. Every time we went to the convention center the limo delivered us. Normally I am not a fan of limos, but this trip I found myself enjoying having all of us in the same vehicle instead of having to take several cabs. And the free water, pop, pretzels, peanut M & M’s, etc. was a nice touch. Especially when my hungover self needed to refuel.
In an effort to rest so that I don’t get sick (especially with TC coming up), today the dogs and I are really enjoying this relaxing Saturday. There are tons of things that I really need to take care of and I should be cleaning, but my Mom always said “Don’t should on yourself” and I am taking that advice today. Not doing a damn thing. For a long while I was outside with the boys, throwing the ball for Ludo. When it was about to start raining I came inside to dig around in Dave2’s archives. That man is amazing. Here it is his 5th blogiversary and he is giving us prizes. Blogography is such a gift in and of itself, yet he has all kinds of t-shirts and playing cards and buttons and drawings and himself to give. I WANNA WIN!! Mostly to be able to drag Dave all over the Burgh and to have him create a custom artwork image just for me. That would be entirely too cool. Good news is that even if I don’t win the contest I will have the opportunity to meet Dave in Philly next weekend. Guess that is a pretty decent consolation prize.
Speaking of TequilaCon, many of my friends are baffled that I am willing to drive five hours to hang out with 50 to 60 bloggers that I have never met before. Honestly, I appreciate their concern, but some of these people are already friends even if I have never seen them in person before. If they are gonna chop me up in little pieces, I really don’t think it will be done by a blogger at the hotel in Philly. Hell, I have a better chance of a complete stranger strangling me in Philly…that town has a few rough patches!
i appreciate that my friends care. I really do. It is nice to be cared about. Of course, if I ever forget how loved I am, I only need to view this photo that was taken while trying to type to you all:
hehe
Happy Saturday to all.
xoxo
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