You, I, We

My jeep is in the shop. My driveway is a vast wasteland of emptiness. This makes me nervous and blue. What if it doesn't make it back this time?

I needed perking up. It's a terribly windy day, but the dogs needed walking and they don't care about wind. I put on something cheery and a bit silly, a bit  Dr. Seuss-ish. I just needed it. The dogs scurried in circles, their bright orange leashes all a tangle. I grabbed my white floppy hat and away we went.

Oh, D. Really? *Sigh*

And, 5 minutes later I ran into the cutest man, leaning against the barber shop, staring at me. So while the dogs were busy, I smiled back. I even said, hello. (Insert applause here).

He smiled, said hi, stared at the dogs, then smiled back at me. I tried again, "Windy day. Should have grabbed a scarf." (Yay, D! Keep going!). He agreed, said something else. I don't remember what.

The barber showed up--I wave at him every day. And since I didn't want to leave I told them about Trooper (since they were looking) his deafness, blah, blah, blah. And then I said the absolute wrong words all single women universally over, never, ever use, "WE found him this winter...."

This didn't hit me until later, after I said, Well we should go...(Go??? Why go?? STAY HERE. SAY SOMETHING ELSE. SAY, GETTING A HAIR CUT? BUT IT ALREADY LOOKS NICE, COME HERE OFTEN? EVER? HAVE YOU BEEN TO COFFEE AROUND THE CORNER? WOULD YOU LIKE TO...?)

Sit, stay, please.

Nope. I said, have a good day, and left. Then I spent my walk berating myself for my inability to stand still and flirt like a good woman would. For god's sake! I was raised by the biggest flirt in 70's history: my father, the king of flirt-and-get-a-date. You'd think I would have learned something, but no I said "WE..." and blithered on about Trooper, then left. Bravo, well, done.

"WE" as any smart woman knows, refers to "US"--a pair, a couple, dating, engaged, married. It means "I have someone. I am unavailable. I should be walking onward, he is taking me to dinner and you aren't invited. But I hate saying "I". I means: I am single, I am alone, I have no one and no one has me. I do not have a dinner date, I am eating Lean Cuisine alone, not going dancing, but watching reruns of Antique's Roadshow." I hate "I".

A good, kind man



Men know, quite well, what "WE" means, as well. Men never ever use "we" unless they are good married men. In a man's mind it is survival of the fittest "I" (My father has been with the same woman for 25+ years. They are not married. His man cave is her pool house. He only uses "we" sometimes. Whatever).

Contrarily, when I say "we" I mean me--and the dogs. The dogs and me are a "we" until further notice, but he didn't know that. And...perhaps he really didn't care. He could have been smiling at the dogs, the crazy mess of leashes, my silly floppy hat, my ridiculously circus-like striped shirt. Why would HE--handsome, roguish man, in proper charcoal gray attire, wavy salty dark hair and a clean handsome beard, smile at me.

I walked--we walked, they walked--we/I came back around the barber shop, but our/my handsome rogue was gone. I teared up just a bit. We/I came home, ate quiche and wrote here instead.

Oh, D...(insert self-hug).


d, xo

Nap Day

It's Monday. Lots of errands to run and packages to ship. Yay, shop sales!

The dogs got a neighborhood walk today, but truly Trooper is beat. Yesterday's river "hike" has left him one groggy pup. (I adore that Trooper, like myself, is not a morning being. He yawns and stretches, rubs his eyes, then easily falls back to sleep. Bless you, my small furry friend.)

Meanwhile, much to my delight another donation came in over the weekend, bringing our total up to $235! This really kind person came out of nowhere. Not a Twitter follower that I know of, but a really kind and generous Trooper follower. Thank you. :-)

One day I will total up Trooper's expenditures, since finding him in December. He really threw our budget for a loop, but I would do it again, all of it, even without the generous donations.

During those un-godly predawn mornings when I wake with a start,  I sometimes imagine I didn't quite get the grab on him. He slipped threw my fingers, or I wasn't wearing gloves when he bit me and I lost my grip on him. Then I REALLY freak out, because when I think of him out there all alone, in the cold, fending for himself, I shiver...then I turn on the light, check that he is still here, in his bed and breathing.  (I do this to Zephyr too.) Motherhood, even for the furry kind is a trippy all consuming thing. Whew.

Ok, off to the post. Thanks again everyone for following us over to our new blog home. In time I hope to make it fancier. One. Thing. At. A. Time. :-)

d, xo

To The River!

It was a super sunny hot spring day--in March, can you believe this? So, of course, we went to the river.

Trooper's not a really a water dog, so we're doing this slowly. It was ridiculously hot out, and the little guy doesn't drink enough water. Time to go in, buddy.

I gently put him in up to his ankles where he froze like it was bath time. (Also, the water is freezing. Snow run off.) So, we just stayed here and I cupped water over him.  

Zephyr and I like the water. All paws in. (My toenails aren't painted! So embarrassing).

Zephyr could spend all day in the water chewing on a stick. Simple pleasures for a happy dog.  

Shake! 

Zephyr's stick stuck in the mud. A perfect place for him to chew on it.  

 Dude, don't swallow it! Spit it out! And, he did, luckily in the backyard, later, instead of in the back of the jeep. (This blog could have been named Dog Barf Diaries, just as easily.)

 My stick!

 He looks ferocious, but Zephyr's being splashed with water, which he LOVES. He could play this game for hours.

It's not often I get to see all of his teeth. Those are some shiny white chops He likes his sticks. (Can we teach Trooper to chew too?)

We walked all the way to the end of the trail, played in the water, twice, and are heading back to the jeep. Trooper was about to crash out on the trail. He's all sandy wet and has that zombie, "I had to much fun" look. Zephyr's waiting in the back.

The home scene. He walked in the door and fell asleep in his wet harness, crash. He likes to sleep on Zephyr's bed under the staircase. Look at that little mop. I love him.

d, xo

p.s. Hey! Trooper finished up the last of his antibiotics this morning! Yay! No more cat food/soft cheese gooey-fingers-before-coffee mornings. Can we get an AMEN!

His mouth seems to be good. No sore spots. He no longer winces when you touch his muzzle. His coat is looking shinier and less flaky by the day. We may have ourselves a near-healthy dog!

And that REALLY deserves an AMEN TOO. xo

Dog Park

I'm getting nowhere with the whole transfer dog posts from Snowflower Street to here. Why? Because it's supposed to be simple. And my experience with anything that's supposed to be simple, is fricking complicated. Will leave it for now.

Meanwhile, I took the critters to a new dog park today, completely fenced, no escape routes! You'd think I would have drank my coffee and chilled, but no. I ran around following Trooper, fearing he would look up and feel lost, abandoned, then freak out--projection, projection, projection. In reality, he cruised around, sniffing and peeing, trot, trot, trot. I don't think he gave a hooey where I was.

In my defense, Zephyr does do that--look up and freak out because he can't find me. It's a horrible look, even for a second, before I wave him down. Panic is no one's friend and we do enough of it in this house already. Oye.

Anyway, all went well. the dogs roamed. I managed to drink most of my coffee hot, and Trooper even sniffed a very large pit bull that drooled bigger than he. My heart lurched in those waiting moments as the dog, his jaw the width of Trooper's length, checked him out, but it was all good. Hail Mary...

Now it's late and it's time for the troops to go out, before they get tucked in. It's a tough life being a dog in this house.

d, xo

The Middle of the Mess

Oh, I had plans, BIG plans! A flashy new blog, a trendy design with a moddish tone, a cool new place to post my dog thoughts, but then life got busy with me--and the actual dogs--god they are needy--and the blog sat on the burner FOREVER. Tick-tock, tick-tock....

Finally, I said, screw it, and put together this. Because the dogs are up to no good now. Zephyr got into the garbage can today. Trooper made a break for it yesterday. And I ate two chocolate cupcakes slathered in ganache just tonight, so who knows what will happen in five minutes? 

In the meantime, I am trying to transfer all the dog posts off my vintage blog: Snowflower Street over here, because not all vintage lovin' gals, want to hear about dogs. (God bless them).

All this blog moving around may, or may not, work. We'll just have to see. I do promise to keep you updated on Trooper wherever we may land.

Pray for us.

d, xo