Mr. Fluffypants 7/20/2009 - 11/6/2020

You know what sucks?  Printing the e-receipt from the veterinarian where you just had the best cat you’ve ever known put to sleep.  

Mr. Fluffypants really was the best cat I’ve ever known.  (Why else would I name my blog after him?) He was always pliant and loveable when you needed him to be.  A little playful and silly, but mostly loveable.  He wasn’t the kind of cat who didn’t care what you wanted.  He cared.  He cared what you wanted, how you felt, if you needed a snuggle. He’s the reason one of my children made it through kindergarten, and first grade, and second grade. (School wasn’t her thing for a while. She’d cuddle him at the end of the day though, and all was right with the world.) Mr. Fluffypants was a lover, through and through. He’d hold your hand with his paw and aggressively snuggle, even if what he really wanted was some canned food.

Right now, my heart is breaking. I want to hear his big purr and feel his fluffy feet.  I want my kids to laugh as they sing the funny song they made up for him. I want to tease him about being smelly (his only flaw). That is not to be though.  It’s just me and my sad heart, not looking forward to telling the kids. 

Freddy Has Left the Building

Freddy
June 20, 2009 - September 16, 2019

A few weeks after my dad died, my mom’s cat had kittens the day before Fathers Day. It was a sign. We had been looking for a kitten for my girls so I asked my mom to tame them for us (her cats are mostly feral farm cats). She did a great job of visiting them every day and teaching them about humans. They were pretty little white things with big blue eyes and friendly as they could be. When the time came to choose one, of course my girls each wanted a different cat. I called my husband and said “What would you think if we brought two cats home?” He thought I was kidding and said "do it". He knows now I do not kid about two cats instead of one. Each girl happily held their kitten and smiled all the way home.

Freddy and Mr. Fluffypants and their adoring girls.

His favorite chin rest.

My younger daughter, at three and a half, couldn’t choose between many wonderful names like Sparkle and Sunshine. My oldest, at almost seven, quickly named hers after a TV character, Freddy from iCarly. From the start Freddy was a real character himself. Playful and silly, he was the more energetic of the two. He was spunky and smart. He loved teasing our slightly older and much grumpier cat, Birdie. Menda, the other kitten's eventual name for a while until he became Mr. Fluffypants, was funny and fun, too, but he was also content to snuggle for hours if that’s what his girl wanted. Freddy was good for a very short snuggle and then he was off again. Freddy played with our dogs and stalked birds in the yard. He chased yarn and jingly toys all day long. He was also a strange cat. You never knew where you'd find Freddy or what he'd be up to. He was the kind of cat who wriggled into impossible places and would bat at your hair from behind when you had no idea he was even there. He also drank with his paw like a raccoon. Or, he'd put his paws on the side of the bowl and lean all the way across the bowl to drink from the far side. And nobody liked a chin rest more than Freddy. He loved to lay under our coffee table and rest his chin on the cross pieces, or use the backs of our bar stools as chin rests. It became a family joke how good he was at finding places to lay with chin rests. His love for Squinkies - tiny rubber toys that bounced crazily when he'd bat them across the room - was unrivaled. He was known to have a little stash of them in a closet because he'd knock them under the door then come begging for another when he realized he had lost one. Even as an older cat Freddy was playful, right up until last April.

We had been teasing him about getting kind of chubby, but one day I noticed he wasn't so chubby anymore. I started paying attention to his condition and what he was eating. He had kind of gone off dry food. I thought it was his teeth. I took him to the vet who diagnosed one thing and treated it, but the treatment didn't help. Another vet concurred with the first vet, but by this time Freddy had other mysterious symptoms. Blood tests were inconclusive. The second vet prescribed an antibiotic, which helped a lot, until it was gone. Freddy went downhill again. Another antibiotic also helped, until it was gone. Freddy held his own for several weeks though, until he didn't. His final decline was dramatic. He went from eating well last Monday to barely eating by Friday to giving him water with a syringe on Sunday. I took him back to the vet, who by now had named him Freddy the Mystery, submitted him to more blood tests and brought another antibiotic home. He won't get to finish this one though. He woke me up this morning crying pitifully. He had crawled out of his bed but was too weak to go far. I held him for over an hour. I cried and told him thank you for being such a good friend to my kids. He breathed shallowly and his heart raced but he seemed to appreciate my warmth. After some time, he flopped off my chest onto the sofa and I got the feeling he was ready to be left alone. I laid him on a dog bed beside me where I know he is dying. Ironically, Mr. Fluffypants has unearthed a jingly ball and is chasing it around the kitchen. That seems an appropriate send off for his playful brother.

Rest in peace Freddy. You were a good cat.

Freddy loved laying on my son's giant stuffed penguin.

Back in his chubby days.

With one of his favorite toys - a squinkie!

Typical Freddy

Cat in a box.

He was a handsome devil.

I really did find them like this one morning. I guess he did like snuggling after all.

Young Freddy exploring.

Winter, I'm Tapping Out

The view from my warm truck beats the heck out of shivering in a nasty cold wind on icy sidewalks.

I try to be stoic about winter. I swear I honestly like it (😄). Well, I don’t hate it. I’ve been something of a wimp this week though, as temperatures haven’t risen above freezing for several days. I normally walk my son the short block to school no matter the weather because come on, it’s one block. Not this week though! Icy sidewalks, frigid winds, I’ve had enough. As I looked around in the drop off lane this morning, I noticed two of my neighbors also dropping off their lucky children. I felt a little less guilty about wimping out over 14 degrees and a little more confident in proclaiming that I am over winter! Got that Mother Nature?! Serve up some spring!

Book Review: How To Be A Good Creature

Click here to buy How to Be a Good Creature

     A friend gave this book to me.  The cover and title told her I'd like it.  She was right.  

Sy Montgomery takes my general love for animals and runs away with it.  An environmental reporter, naturalist and adventurer, she can only be described as captivated by all creatures, whether they be personal pets or subjects of scientific study.   Thirteen of the animals she lived with or studied and the lessons she learned from them are included here.  This isn't a terribly deep book, but I love reading about her love for the animals and knowing I'm not the only person who is sometimes irrational about a non-human companion.  The only thing that bothered me is she is sometimes guilty of anthropomorphism.  She even touches on that briefly, and notes that it can be difficult to draw that line.  I feel the same way, but her greater enthusiasm for the creatures around her I think pushed her over the edge occasionally.  That's not a deal killer for me.  I still enjoyed the book and have already thought of some friends I need to gift it to.

The Desert is Trying to Kill Me

This abandoned house and truck sit on a small parcel of land near the industrial center of my town.  It was once a homestead and farm.  You can see the Sagebrush and Rabbitbrush have reclaimed what used to be.

Rabbitbrush, starting to come into it's fuzzy glory.

I live in Utah’s high desert.  I love living here. The mountains, red rocks and sagebrush plains all make me very happy.  Its the most beautiful landscape on the planet in my eyes, especially in the fall. Too bad Utah tries to kill me (or at least pay dearly for living here) every year. We have a plant called Rabbitbrush which is very pretty to look at.  Dusty green/blue stems lead up to fluffy mustard yellow flowers blooming prettily right now. It grows everywhere the land hasn’t been plowed or paved into submission.  It's one of those bits of nature that just won't be tamed. My dogs love to rub on it. It also makes my eyes swell and itch. My head fills with fluids till my ears buzz and I feel like I may drown in the gunk. My joints ache and I can't sleep. Yay! Allergies!

Sagebrush smells dusky and rich. It is never prettier than
in the fall.

And then there’s the Sagebrush.  Another high desert plant I love which doesn’t love me back.  Sage also blooms right now, and grows alongside Rabbit Brush. I love the way it smells, especially after a little rain. It’s tiny silvery leaves and woody stems distinguish it from Rabbitbrush. And Sage is tough. Good luck trying to get rid of this stuff. Some of my neighbors have given up and incorporated it into the landscape around their houses. It looks pretty cool. There's a lot to admire about this scrubby little brush. Too bad the tiny chartreuse flowers are also suffocating. They stuff my nose and give me flu-like symptoms that, on a bad year, no allergy pills can touch. I am grateful I don't also have asthma like my sister. She really suffers through autumn in Utah.

I’ve gotten used to spending the end of September with buzzing ears, a hoarse voice, creaking joints and itchy eyes, living as near a humidifier as possible.  I do my best to go about my life, and keep loving the desert plants. They're some of the coolest life on earth. After all, you have to be TOUGH to bloom in the desert. One might think the desert would love me back and stop making me suffer for appreciating its prettiest time of year. Wishful thinking. I guess I should consider the amazing allergy inducing pollen one more inspiring defense mechanism of the Sage and Rabbitbrush.  I can’t plow them or pave them if I can’t breath.

My dogs love to snuggle up right up under the brush.  I think they like the scent, too.  Too bad for me
they then bring the pollen home.

The Email - A Micro-story

I was recently looking for a book in my old boxes of teaching supplies.  I haven't taught for almost 16 years but I still have a few boxes of my favorite resources and digging through them is always fun for me.  As usual, I not only found the particular item I was looking for, I also found a little unexpected something - this time a book of writing prompts I had occasionally used with my fourth graders.  It brought back good memories as I thumbed through it.  I read one prompt " You just received an email message from ___ and it said ___" and a lightening bolt zipped around my brain.  A little story unravelled faster than it took me to read the rest of the page.  I laughed a little, but then stopped.  I haven't written anything for quite a while, but I liked this idea.  I decided to write it down.  I call it a micro-story because it is very short.  I still like it.

The message was brief but she felt dread when she read it.  "I need to talk to you ASAP."

Given the state of their relationship, that could not be a good thing. Oh, there had been good times in the past, but now times were bad.  Very bad.  What communication there had been recently was brief and compulsory.  "We're almost out of toothpaste."  "Did you walk the dog?"  He had not forgiven her.

It wasn't her fault she had gained an admirer.  She had done nothing but go to work.  At first.  Michael had started it.  Charming, just-out-of-college-boy flirting was really fun.  She liked feeling young and fun again.  Being an adult could be SO boring.  But, young and fun led to lunch. Then lunchES.  Then long lunches.  Before she knew it Michael was being punched and shoved and thrown out of her apartment while she yelled.  He yelled back at her.  Lots of yelling.  The yelling did stop after a time.  She wanted to apologize.  She tried a few times but he wasn't having it.  He just glared at her.  She stopped trying.  She felt humiliated.  

He was calm.  He was cold.  There was no more yelling but there was nothing else, either.  For weeks.  Nothing.  Being together was torture.

When she saw the message she knew he had made up his mind.  He knew his next step.  She didn't like it.  She had been happily married. She wasn't with Michael because she was unhappy.  She hadn't wanted a divorce when she started flirting back.  She just got carried away.  It cost her.  The email staring back at her all but confirmed that.  

Suddenly, she sat up straight.  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  If she couldn't change his mind, she owed it to him to let go peacefully.  She would be brave, for him.

She hit reply and typed "I'm free this afternoon."  She swallowed hard and hit send.

Book Review: Game of Thrones, book 1

Game of Thrones : Literary Crack

Ohhhh, this book.... 

I had plans to read a handful of other books before year's end but I’ve also had the box set of the first five Game of Thrones books on my nightstand for a year now. I’ve been intimidated. They each clock in at nearly 1,000 pages and I knew enough about them to assume once I got started I wouldn’t want to stop. I was right. I guess those other books will have to wait. 

In an eight (possibly more) book series, I know the first book is just an introduction. This one is a doozy, a tour de force, one character after another, not always clear how they’re going to intersect later, hints at a deeper plot. Martin sets a brisk pace both with action and character introduction as well as mini-cliff hangers at the end of most chapters. It’s like literary crack. Hooked me instantly. In some ways I felt like I was reading the later Harry Potter books for the first time, when I had figured out it was no mere child’s fantasy series. Lots of subplots, perhaps a few extraneous but interesting people, maybe a red herring or two. Usually I’m pretty good at reading between the lines and quickly seeing where a story goes next, but with GOT, there are so many layers to the onion, I can see I’m just getting started. I love a book that keeps me guessing. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

(Also published on my page at Goodreads.com - username Robyn Ekker and on Instagram - username myfluffypants.)

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December Balloons

For most people, December means Christmas.  It means that for us, too, but here December also means pink balloons and birthday cake.  Both of my daughters were born in December so we celebrate a birthday in the first week, a birthday in the second week and then take a week off before celebrating Christmas.  🎄

Book Review : Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson

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FURIOUSLY HAPPY

Wow.  Where do I even start.  I guess with the cover.  Featuring a taxidermied raccoon who seems to be shouting “TA DAAAAAAAA”, this cover had me at hello.  (Does anyone besides me still say that?) I had no idea what the book was about, but with such a great cover I thought I'd probably love it. I did.

Furiously Happy is about mental illness, a very serious subject.  It’s a great advocate for the mentally ill in all the best ways AND it literally made me laugh out loud every time I sat down to read. Yes, author Jenny Lawson reveals some of the horror that can be mental illness, but she refuses to focus on it.  She’s too busy being furiously happy, her way of living life to the absolute fullest when she manages to beat back the worst of the worst. Lawson is hilariously relatable in her more innocent quirks (like wishing her cats would let her strap a dead raccoon on their backs for a little rodeo action) but is able to stay honestly human and connects while talking about darker moments, too.  In a series of humorous anecdotes featuring Lawson’s, um, unique quirks, Furiously Happy is utterly hilarious to the point I was taking pictures of the text to send my best friends and spouse while I read so they could laugh with me.  It also feels like an amazing, assuring conversation with a friend who struggles in ways it can be hard to understand but is oh so relatable.  So far I’ve gifted it to two friends and there will be many more copies given for Christmas this year.  This is a profane book that discusses sensitive matters, but I love and highly recommend it.  

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So How Do You Spend Your Time?

Hank and the chickens, two of the ways I spend my time.

Last week a neighbor friend happened to be walking in my direction after I dropped my son at school.  We're friends, but we're still getting to know each other.  We were chatting, as one does in such a situation, when he innocently asked "How do you spend your time?"  It was a good question intended to get to know me better.  It wasn't asked in a snarky "why don't you have a job" kind of way that you sometimes read about on blogs written by women.  However, as a stay at home mom of almost 15 years, it's a question that takes me back a little. Most people's default answer is to name their work, say something about how they love or hate it and move on.  I used to say "I chase kids all day", but my kids are in school all day now and have been for some time.  I'm no longer sure how to answer that question in a concise, not too involved manner.  On this day, I flippantly said "well, we have all these dogs and cats and chickens so I spend a lot of time scooping poop".  It was a strange answer, perhaps a little TMI.  I might have sounded sarcastically snappish, which wasn't my intention.  It was definitely too odd for an easy response.  He changed the subject.  Now I feel bad.

It made me think though.  How DO I spend my time?  I have the luxury of being able to craft the life that makes me happy.  I am not stuck in a job I feel I need but that I hate.  I am not even working at my previous job (teaching), which I really liked but would definitely have left me drained and not feeling like I was as good at being a mom as I want to be.  I am able to spend my time doing the things I think are most important for my family and that bring us all happiness.  I do, indeed, spend a lot of time cleaning animal poop but that's a good thing.  Our pets bring all of us joy and we're lucky to have them.  Playing and snuggling with them is fantastic for the whole family.  Cleaning up is the trade we make for the dogs' joyous greetings or warm feet thanks to the cats or fresh eggs from the chickens.  It's a pretty good way to spend my time.

I spend an hour or so most days at lunch with my husband.  He recently merged his company with a much larger one and the transition has been stressful.  When he can, he likes to completely get away from work for a little while.  I have no doubt he has friends who would have lunch with him but being able to spend that time together is great for our marriage.  With three busy kids whose activities are just beginning as he gets home from work, some days this is the only real conversation we have.  Again, I'd say this is a pretty good way to spend my time.

Then there are the kids.  Like all moms, I supervise homework and musical instrument practice.  I chauffeur to dance and swimming and scouts and art.  I ask prying questions of my teen. I nag my middle child about her messy room.   I try to keep all the Pokemon straight so I can converse with my son.  I feed them, whether they like it or not.  Don't even think of asking me to to do something between 4:00 and 8:30 PM Monday through Thursday.  I am busy.  Having the energy and time to be really interested in them and help them explore their interests is the whole point of being a stay at home mom.  This is absolutely a great use of my time.

I also do all the miscellaneous stuff everyone else does.  Dishes and laundry and running the vacuum.  I squeeze in some yoga or take the dogs hiking.  I read.  I languish on Facebook. Sometimes I do a little volunteer work.   I take photos I like to share on Instagram. Occasionally, I'll write a little something.   I'm working my way through an awesome cookbook - The Pollan Family Table.  (This is a big deal for me - I don't care for cooking, but every recipe from the Pollans has been a keeper.  Totally worth the effort.  I'm trying all kinds of new dishes and learning new techniques. I'm kind of excited about it.  Weird.)

So this is how I spend my time.  I feel like my days are full and wonderful and satisfying.  I still don't have a short answer for the "what do you do" question.  I guess I'm lucky that way.

Support my blog: click the link to buy your own copy of The Pollan Family Table

Thank You!

Football, Protests and Free Speech

In general, I try to keep politics off this page.  My political opinion is not something I generally choose to share with a broad audience and I share this blog with everyone I know on social media, so I usually try to keep my political thought audience a little smaller.  However, I'm breaking with tradition here to make a statement about a political issue I'm kind of fired up about - the NFL protests.

I am a supporter of the First Amendment.  Full stop.  I don't believe we should limit any speech in any way.  People have the right to express themselves.  Period.  Now, that does not include violent or destructive actions like we've seen in many public protests that devolved into riots.  That is not speech.  That is animalistic, criminal behavior.  Speech is peaceful, even if you abhor the content.  Speech is a God-given right we must all defend.  To believe anything else is un-American.

Regarding the NFL protests, players are not leading riots or calling their followers to burn down the stadium, at least not while on the field.  (Off the field some are saying pretty horrible things, but that's a separate conversation.)  On the field, they are simply kneeling, often with head bowed.  To me, that looks like a very humble and sincere statement.  The ultimate form of peaceful protest.  Personally, I don't always support what they are saying.  I think a lot of the anti-police rhetoric goes WAY too far, but I endlessly support their right to say it.  Just as I think it's awful that conservative speakers being shut down by violent mobs is wrong, I think it's wrong to tell these athletes their peaceful speech isn't allowed even when I don't agree with them.  I'm not interested in supporting their point.  I'm interested in defending their natural right.

Now, I also believe that each team owner and the NFL in general have the right to tell the players, their employees, what speech is appropriate while they are representing their employer.  If Jerry Jones wants to insist his employees stand for the National Anthem while they're on his time, that's his prerogative.  If an owner wants to insist all his players kneel, that's also his choice.  If the players don't want to play by their boss' rules they can quit the team.  As a consumer, if I don't want a side of politics with my entertainment, I'm able to find another way to occupy my time.  It's a free country and we have limitless choices.  I have no problem at all with people who are choosing not to watch football this season.  They're expressing their opinions, too.

Alejandro Villanueva stands for the National Anthem

Photo credit: Fox News

One thing I really don't like though is a politician - particularly the President of the United States - bloviating about firing people exercising their right to free speech.  That's not his business.  At all.  His business is dealing with North Korea or fixing our tax code or helping the unfortunate Americans who have recently been affected by natural disasters.  It is not his place to yammer about what the NFL owners ought to do.  If he wants to share his opinion, I wish he'd find a way to do so that didn't sound like he wants to be emperor, directing private business owners' actions.  (I am aware that's not what he actually said, but it's what people took away from it.  He is so ham-handed with his words sometimes!  It drives me bananas.)  I think it's great to have a president who loves to talk about how much he loves his country, but one of our basic tenants is protesting against our own country when we feel it deserves it.  For our president to be so thin-skinned about it really rankles me.  If he feels he really wants to speak on the issue, I wish he'd find something positive to highlight.  How great would it be if he tweeted a thank you to the lone Pittsburgh Steelers player who stood and sang along with the anthem yesterday?  Perhaps he could find his favorite performance of the anthem and thank the singer for performing so well.  Find the good President Trump.  Find the good.  Please!
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Summer Says Goodbye

The last raspberries.

I picked a bowl full of raspberries yesterday and, as usual, couldn't help but smile at the contrast between the berries and the leaves.  Looking at them though, I felt a little sad.  These are the probably the last of summer's fruit.  The leaves sport hints of yellow and brown.  There's a soft freeze due later in the week and we won't get more berries after that.  So, here's summer, saying goodbye.  Au revoir summer.  I'll see you next year.

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Sunny and the Hedgehog

Good morning! Hedgehog and I are ready to play!!
#wakeupMom!
#Ihavehedgehogstofetch 
#letsgoletsgo!
☀️#Sunny☀️

This is how we start our days.  I believe it is impossible to play with a border collie too much.  (They believe so, too.) 

Sunny and her brothers, Hank and Skippy, can be seen at their Instagram page

Sunny, Hank, Skippy

Book Review: Take Me With You

Take Me With You : Not your ordinary road trip book.

Two trusted friends recommended this book, so I made it a priority read.  When I first started it, I thought "oh boy, I can see why they loved it" and I figured I'd be in for one emotional story.  Take Me With You has a heavy heart and I expected to cry throughout it.  I was surprised to only be truly moved once, by the kindness of children.  Given the topic and rawness of the characters, I feel a little let down by the fact that I wasn't more effected.  I'm a little torn between liking the author's slightly detached handling and thinking she missed some opportunities to open her people up a little more.  Over all, the story is very sparely told, which sometimes I really like, but I haven't made up my mind whether or not I like it here.  I guess it's a balancing act between being schmaltzy and disengaged.  All that aside though, Take Me With You is still a heartbreaking and yet sweet story of people finding the people they need to make it through life's hardest times.  It wasn't quite what I expected, but I did really like it and would love a sequel because my favorite character was just starting to come into his own.

Buy it for yourself!

(This review is also posted on Goodreads and Instagram.)

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On Friends

Today's Mood

I spent last night hanging out with friends.  People I see often enough I should term them as good friends, but the more time we spend together the more I realize our relationship is much more of the acquaintance variety.  It's really superficial.  They know almost nothing about me, I can't say I know a lot more about them. I take responsibility for some of that.  I am not the super open type.  I don't talk about myself, or even really talk a lot.  They both tend to talk over people.  We have different communication styles.  I've realized we don't "get" each other.  We're not what I would call "each other's people".  In fact, last night I realized I spend a lot of time with them feeling interrupted and discounted.  They're not rude per se.  One, in particular, would feel bad if they knew I feel this way, and so it is on me that they don't know.  I realize if I want to be a good friend I should let them know.  It makes me think about my own communication, and friendship abilities.  It's all interesting on an intellectual level and I'm mulling over the night and relationships in general, but right now I'm feeling a bit stung and introspective.  I guess I match the weather, which is drizzly, gray and a chilly.

It's Time to Eat Our Pudding

Well, today is the day.  Donald J Trump officially becomes Mr. President.  I didn't vote for him.  I still think he's a blowhard and a pig.  BUT!  I have also been somewhat reassured by his choices to fill cabinet positions.  Many of them appear to be exactly what I think their agencies need.  The proof will be in the eating of the pudding, but there's room for me to hope.

Funny word that is though.  Hope.  What our now former president ran on.  I didn't see much manifestation of the hope paying off (except for gay people who are now rightly allowed to marry thanks, in part, to President Obama’s Supreme Court picks).  At the beginning of his first term I was in a similar situation I am in now.  I wasn't thrilled with the new guy, but at least he wasn't Hillary Clinton.  I was open to seeing what he had in mind for the country.  Of course that openness evaporated after I realized he intended to insult those who disagreed with him at every turn and then proceeded to do the absolute opposite of what I thought was the right thing.  That pudding was pretty bitter.

Fast forward eight years and I'm in the same boat.  Don't love the new guy but at least he isn't Hillary Clinton.  Once again, I'm open to letting Trump do his thing before I really decide if I love him or hate him.  Early indications are promising.  I hope this is a tasty pudding.

Happy Mother's Day!

My ten year old is a maker.  She is constantly making stuff, from rubber band bracelets to fabric baskets embellished with the sweetest embroidery you ever saw (she taught herself), to elaborate creations involving cardboard, Saran Wrap, sequins and pin wheels.  She really doesn't stop, sometimes not even for sleep.  

This morning I woke at my usual time to let our puppies out.  I could tell my daughter was already on the go because every light in the house was on and her pink coat was on the floor.  I wondered what took her outside so early as I poured my coffee but it didn't take much looking to see what she was up to.  I found the first of what will likely be many sweet things she creates just for me today.  

She loves holidays and has the most generous heart I've ever known.  I feel so lucky to be the recipient of her thoughtful, enthusiastic, personalized creativity.  She's giving a little piece of herself and I cherish it. 

It Only Matters That You Start

Some days I have so much to do I am a bit overwhelmed.  I start thinking about what needs to be done first.  Before I know it I've spent an hour spinning my wheels.  I need to remember to stop it.  I usually doesn't matter what I do first.  It only matters that I do it. 

Happiness is a Warm Puppy

Charles Schultz absolutely said it best.  Happiness IS a warm puppy.  We brought our new puppies home last Saturday and every member of the family seeks them out with a "good morning puppies" as soon as we wake and we all grin at their sweet wagging tails.  From the first night they were easy.  They went to sleep when we did.  They woke when we did.  Sure, they're not housebroken, but they are still infants so we do our best to keep them on their schedule and not leave them unattended in the house.  On Monday my ten year old was so excited to come home from school and see the puppies.  She went right outside  and I was so busy loving the sight of her romping around the yard with them I didn't want to look away even long enough to get a camera.  Yes, they are a lot of work,  but happiness really is a warm puppy.

When you're seven, holding your new puppy makes you feel very special.

We just can't get enough puppy snuggles, even if we make Hank miss nap time. 

Sunny, napping on my daughter's school things.

The cats are still a little freaked out, but even they are coming around enough to investigate the puppy space.

Sunny knew just what to do with a rubber ball.

They're getting used to their "potty corner" dog run.  They already wait patiently to get out instead of yapping or going wild when they see us.

*If you'd like to follow Sunny and Hank as they grow, I started an Instagram account just for them.  Their username is @sunnyandhank

Ghost Dogs

Rex and Ginny, last June.

I have had dogs on my mind quite a lot lately.  Last July, we lost our sweet Ginny to cancer.  Almost exactly six months later we also lost her good brother Rex unexpectedly.  We bred Rex before we knew he was sick, and his puppies were born at the end of January.  All of these dog events have been running through my brain for weeks, more than ever now that we're so close to bringing two puppies home.  It's no wonder, then, that I think I have been seeing ghosts.  Ghost dogs, to be exact.  

I have not been actually "seeing" ghost dogs, more like feeling them.  Impressions of Ginny and Rex. I'm sure I could explain it away as my brain reverting to old patterns, sensing a dog in the corner because there was one for twelve years, that sort of thing.  

This is different though.  Sometimes, I feel like one of them is someplace they never really went around the house. For example, I plan to try to train the puppies to do their business in one corner of our yard.  We have the perfect spot under some trees so there is a bit of shelter and the kids don't play there anyway.  I set up a dog run so I can close the puppies in, but while I was doing it, I swear Ginny was lying on the edge of the grass with a pine cone, waiting for me to throw it.  Of course I knew she wasn't there, but I kept feeling her, my brain kept telling me to look.  Since then I have twice thought she was lying in the dog run, even though it isn't in a place she would lay.

Then there's Rex.  I do still look for him in the corner of our room where he slept every night.  His passing is so recent, it still feels funny not to have him there, or waiting to go out first thing in the morning, but there are other things.  A section of our basement is set up with the tools and supplies my husband is using to remodel our house.  Rex never spent any time there because we don't spend time there.  We fetch the tool we need and leave.  Rex liked to be where we spent our time and no where else.  Lately though, I feel Rexy is laying by the tools all the time. Every single time I go down the stairs, I'm compelled to look for him there. Especially if it is dark, I'll actually LOOK for him before I think "What are you doing?  You held him while he died."  Yesterday afternoon,  I took the garbage out and when I came back in to the house, I felt him there, hoping to go for a walk.  

It is the weirdest thing.  I know that because the puppies are coming home soon and I am very excited that I may have a little guilt about being so excited over new dogs when really, the old dogs are barely gone.  But that wasn't our plan.  The plan was to have Rexy here to help train the puppies.  After all, Rex's father lived to be around 14 so we expected at least another year or two with him.  Also, don't these new little ones deserve to come to a home that is excited for them?  I mean, you'd have to be crazy to not be excited about these dogs, our little heirloom puppies. We still miss Ginny and Rex.  We can feel two things at once.  Could it be Ginny and Rex might still be around enough to feel excited about the puppies, too?

This isn't the first time I've felt the presence of a loved one who has passed.  So, maybe I am crazy.  Maybe my brain is making a fool of me.  Or maybe, the veil is thinner than we think.