Hodgepodge of Highlights

On Monday we took our whole family to our version of Disneyland.

Really. Check out Halle's face.

The fear...the anticipation...the thrill of what might come next...

Unfortunately, the mud on my mirrors the next day reminded me why people who live on dirt roads don't ever pay for car washes.

Wednesday's weather called for soup, so Lyla and I bundled up and went out to the garden to pick carrots, turnips, and parsley.

Our warm fireplace laughed a little as we shivered our way back inside.

Quite a bit of our summer garden is still hiding out in our freezer, so I added some shredded zucchini to the pot simmering on the stove later that day. Tortellini soup. Yum.

Oh. And this is Bentley. He is not our dog.

I was headed home from dropping off Beau at middle school on Friday morning when I came up behind two clearly un-street-smart dogs. For half a mile they trotted aimlessly in front of me, cars whirring passed them in the other direction.

Lyla was at home with a high fever and the other kids were all getting ready for school. Wes was about to leave for work. Should I?

The first dog (who I later came to know as Scout) said "rub my belly and I'll follow you anywhere" as soon as I stepped out of the car. Scout jumped up in my Suburban and went right to sleep in the back seat. I called the number on his tag and left a message for his owner. Then I turned to the other dog, Bentley- the one in the photo. He had no tag but clearly belonged with the dog already fast asleep in my warm, dry car. 

Bentley wasn't so sure about me- though he really wanted to be. He would come close to me, yearning to curl up next to his companion, then back away with a bark of mistrust.

I knew enough to beware of a dog who was scared. 

So now what? This second dog had no tag. If I left him here, only Scout would make it home. No one would ever know where Bentley belonged. I knew I needed to keep the two dogs together.

I called the kids at home and told them they would be late for school, then dug around my car for some food. Two baggies of Cheerios later, I was left with well-slobbered hands and a 100 pound dog that still wouldn't budge.

Hmmmmmmm...what to do...

Then slowly he put two front paws up into the driver's side. Another minute passed. And finally, up he went.

Fantastic. An hour after pulling over, the second dog was finally in my car. 

But Bentley refused to move out of the driver's seat. I reached into my mental grab bag of doggie tricks, but after an hour it was pretty much empty.

Some time passed and I eventually imagined an agreement between the two of us: he wasn't going to bite me (fingers crossed). With a deep breath, I slid into the narrow gap between my steering wheel and Bentley's hefty self, thinking SURELY he will move once I'm in the seat with him.

But he didn't. So with 100 pounds of dog taking up most of my seat, I leaned my head forward into the dash board and put the car in gear. I drove the curvy mile to my house pressed up against the wheel, barely able to steer. 

Oh, and it gets better. While I leaned forward over the steering wheel, my sizable new companion sat down...on my back. I tried to laugh, but there was just no room.

This all ends well. The owner, having been out looking for the dogs until 11 PM the night before, pulled up to my house an hour later. She was thankful to have her dogs back, safe and sound, and I was thankful for the entertaining morning- a little break from the everyday routine.

That night, I lay on the couch with a feverish Lyla draped over me. She had come home from her swim lesson on Thursday with a 103-degree fever. Now and again she would wake up and melt my heart with an, "I love you, Mom." Sweet Lyla.

The time to make dinner came and went as I struggled to keep my own eyes open under her warm snuggly heap of helplessness.

"I'll make dinner," Wes announced. I smiled. My eyes closed. Wes making dinner almost always involves a phone call and a quick trip downtown.

Chinese take-out.

Before he left, I heard him make his way over to our TV and the tangled mess of cords and electronics hiding behind it (a project for a coming day). When the music started, my eyes opened to see him staring back at me. His eyes were twinkling and accompanied by a smile that said, "I know you." 

While You Were Sleeping.

It just might be the 432nd time I've seen it and he knows I still love it. I also love White Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, and Return to Me, and insist on my family watching all of them year-after-year over the holidays.

My kids have their own list of must-watch holiday movies- Home Alone, Elf,  and The Polar Express.

Hmmmm...not even Thanksgiving and already I'm going off on holiday movies.

ANYWAY, it's now Sunday night and Lyla is feeling well enough to jump on her bed, disregard my insistence that she put her head on her pillow and, in general, treat bedtime more like a trip to Disneyland...er...the car wash.

On to a brand new week...

Suncadia with the Kids

Our foyer was a bustle of activity. Pillow cases stuffed with clothes, hairbrushes, and a few miscellaneous toys landed with a thud in front of the door as each child hurriedly tossed 24 hours worth of belongings from the top of the stairs.

"I can't find my other shoe!"

"Did everyone use the bathroom?"

"How long will it take to get there?"

It was amid the chaos of heading out the door on day three of our vacation that I found Halle in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, nervously searching the floor.

"Mom, my hamster wanted to get out and play and I WAS watching her, but she ran under the refrigerator."

Guilt, worry, and defensiveness were clearly raging a fierce battle within my six-year-old; it appeared to be working out to a three-way tie.

"SHE wanted to get out and play!"

Okay, maybe defensiveness had a slight lead.

During the next 15 minutes everyone took turns announcing a better plan to catch Madelyn, the-world's-chubbiest-hamster.

She scurried under the refrigerator.
Up the back of the refrigerator.
Across the top of the refrigerator.
And down the back again.

This went on for some time until finally she could resist the strategically placed dried corn no longer.

What is it with our zoo whenever we're trying to head out on a road trip?

With the hamster back in her cage, we finally hit the road, this time headed east, across Snoqualmie Pass.

Although Wes and I get away to Suncadia a few times a year, we haven't taken the kids with us since before Lyla was born. We knew they would have a blast pool-side, racing back and forth between the two giant water slides.

We also took time that afternoon to hike down to a swimming hole along the Swiftwater River.

Wes kept a close eye on the kids to keep them safely with him in the eddy. It's not called the Swiftwater for nothing. I've never seen a river barrel along so fast.

We ended the day sometime around 11 pm on the balcony, all eyes fixed to the north and west, watching, waiting for another lightening streak to dramatically cut through the black expanse.

Hushed voices and stillness created a sharp contrast to how our morning had begun. It was one of those little moments when I want to freeze time, when my heart is full, and I can't take it all in fast enough. Gathered there all together, the kids quietly asking what makes thunder, talking about Ben Franklin, and wondering why those people were standing out there in the middle of the golf course, I was filled with gratitude for my family and every minute I get to spend with them.

"Whoa! Did you see that one?!"

"Yah, I think it's getting closer."

"You know it's getting kind of late. Maybe we should head to bed."

"Awwww...one more? We'll all go to bed after one more good lightning streak."

This conversation repeated itself several times before we all gave in, eventually falling asleep to the fading rumble of the passing storm.

Truth and Tears at Jell-O's funeral

The small pile of dark brown earth stood out among all the deep green foliage.

Tears formed in my eyes. And when they threatened to spill over I fought desperately to discreetly wipe them away. Would my husband ever let me live this down? Crying at the funeral of my children's smelly pet hamster they so classily named Jell-O?

Wasn't it bad enough that we were having a funeral for a rodent?!? And that the melodious strains of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing Consider the Lilies poured forth from my husband's iPhone?

Really???

But I was so touched.

"Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:

And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

The familiar refrain echoed in my thoughts.

Not only did I feel that Heavenly Father created and loved this pitiful little creature, but also that he was keenly aware of each of us standing in that circle.

And that, like Jell-O, we would someday each pass out of mortality.

"But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ."

As I stood there considering the doctrines of the atonement, the resurrection, and eternal families, the beauty and vastness of the plan of salvation overwhelmed me.

I rejoiced knowing that if circumstances were different, if we were gathered with tear-stained cheeks around one of our own sweet family members, it would not be the end.

A loving Heavenly Father has provided a way that his children may share in his eternal happiness both in this life and the life to come...as families!

With my husband's "amen" my children each tossed their wildflowers on top of the little shoebox. Wes turned to look at me, his face a reflection of my own. The tears rolling down his cheeks revealed our common experience. And we both smiled, then shrugged as if to say to each other, "Really? Here at the funeral of a rodent?!?

Two years have come and gone and the tiny grave remains a hallowed spot in the corner of our property. It serves as a reminder of the truths that the spirit etched into our hearts that day.

Through Christ's atonement there will be a resurrection and families can be together forever.

photo of hamster by turquoise field

Penny and the Peas

"Penny, OUT!"

Our Old English Sheepdog is not allowed in the garden and she knows it.

Occasionally she will cheat, though, and sneak just far enough beyond the open gate to reach the irresistibly crunchy peas.

Yep, peas. I thought this was a little weird so I googled it. And who knew? Apparently pea-picking dogs are not all that uncommon. 

So today when the kids and I started cleaning out some of the fading snow peas, Penny was watching. Waiting. Wanting. So. Badly. To get those peas!

So we tossed a whole pile of yellowing pea plants her direction.

Happy, happy Penny.

Millie the Dog Whisperer

Quote of the Month: Open the window in the center of your chest and let the spirits fly in and out. Rumi
(My theme for this year's A to Z Challenge is Open.)

Millie and Willie, a sock puppet creation, are here to tell you their story during the April A to Z Blogging Challenge. Be Open to a new Direction in life. You, like Millie, might be called to be a Dog Whisperer.

Willie met Millie when she was working at the First State Bank of Worthington. While the income was sufficient for her to rent an apartment with a friend, and the costumers were interesting (especially the young railroad worker, Willie), Millie's heart wasn't in counting change and opening accounts.

Willie:  When I started courting Millie, I was worried that one of the other fellows in town might woo her away. She's quite a looker, you know. But, it wasn't the human species that captured her heart, it was the canine variety.

Millie:  I always had a side job as a dog sitter. All my neighbors knew that I loved dogs. I'd walk by their houses, and their pups would run out to greet me. Sometimes, I volunteered to take them for a walk, especially if their owners were really busy or were getting a little less mobile and needed someone to give their dogs exercise.

Willie:  For our first anniversary, I gave her a miniature Schnauzer.

Millie: She was a little devil.

Willie: It's true. Whenever someone came to the door, she barked like they were going to murder us or something.

Millie:  She didn't come when he was called.

Willie:  Chewed every piece of leather she could find. I didn't have a single shoe left to wear to work.

Millie, working her Dog Whisperer charms

Millie:  I was desperate. I thought I had a way with dogs until Tillie came to live with us. So, I brought her to dog obedience school. The class was a life-saver. I wanted to learn to do what the instructor was doing. She had all those dogs under control at the same time.

Willie:  Millie already had a natural talent for calming down dogs and teaching them tricks.

Millie:  Once I learned a few more techniques and worked with more dogs, I gained my confidence. Soon, the neighbors offered to pay me to help train their dogs. I got so busy, I eventually quit my job at the bank.

Willie:  Millie has been called in to work with castaway greyhounds that were only trained to race. She's rescued Dobberman's whose owners didn't know how to handle them. She's gone into animal rescue shelters and retrained dogs that were once abused and taught them to regain trust in humans.

Millie: (tears glistening in her eyes) I can't understand cruelty to animals. Dogs bond with us, are always loyal, and will protect their owners. How could anyone turn their anger on them?

Willie:  Abuse never makes sense.

Millie:  I stopped by the shelter yesterday while you were at the podiatrist.

Willie:  Do I need to hide my leather shoes?

Millie:  It's a one year old miniature Schnauzer, Willie. Abandoned. One paw was wrapped in a bandage. Looked exactly like our Tillie.

Willie: (humming I've been working on the railroad as he gathers up his shoes and tucks them in a closet) We'll go get her tomorrow.

Millie:  I love you, Willie.

Willie:  I love you, too, Millie.

(Millie gets out the doggie bed while humming How much is that doggie in the window)

*************

Go. Create. Inspire!

 

Journaling Prompt:  Millie has the special skill as a dog whisperer. Do you have a special skill? Have you ever rescued an animal from the shelter?

 

 

New Guy in my Life

Quote of the Day:  FOG by Carl Sandburg



THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

That's just how Leo glided into our hearts.  I told the boys, "We're just going to look at HART" to see what cats they have at the shelter, and that "We probably won't find just the right one the first time we go."  So, we walked into the cat room.  I sat down on a chair, thinking, I'll let the boys look at the cats.  Then, this big, fluffy furball climbed on my lap, snuggled down and started purring.  He loved it when I pet him.  Then, Zach sat down to hold him, and he fell asleep on his lap.  They were closing, so I said we'd go home and "sleep on it."

Saturday morning, I was trying to distract myself from thinking about that white, fluffy cat at the animal rescue shelter, by reading blogs.  Inkygirl posted this link, and it was all over. It's photos of writers and their kitties.

So, I called the shelter, and we went to get him.  I told Zach to try brushing him, because with a coat like that, he'd better like being brushed.  He loved it.  I filled out the paperwork, paid the fee, and brought the pet porter into the room.  I set it on the floor and opened the door. Zach set Leo down and he walked right into the porter.  We were all shocked.  The worker said, "I've never seen a cat so willing to go in one of those.  He must really want you to take him home."  Yep, I feel like Leo picked us.

He's about a year and a half, is declawed and fixed, well cared for, and had to leave his family due to allergies.  You can tell he's been snuggled and played with, brushed and loved.

Journaling Prompt:  Have you ever gotten a pet from a shelter, or rescued one? 

F is for Final Curtain

Letter of the Day:  F

F is for the Final Curtain for our feline friend Matilda.

Here she is with her best boy, Zach.

As I mentioned earlier this week, Matilda hadn't been eating.  At first we thought it was her teeth, so the vet did a dental extraction. She still didn't eat much.  I brought her in.  We tried a few more things, but still she seemed disinterested in food.  On Tuesday, the vet took an x-ray and diagnosed cancer. I sat with her on my lap and let the tears fall.  We all said our last good bye on Wednesday morning.  Charlie wanted to play one last song for her on the piano.  Matilda loved to sit on the bench when my students came for lessons, or when I played.  (See my post on Pet Therapy.) Charlie played, What a Wonderful World.

Zach and I took her to the vet and held her until the last.  He was so sad, he couldn't even go to school.  I went to my noon workout at the Y.  When I came home, he had engraved the clay paw print disk that the vet made for us.

When a show has finished it's run, the last performance has "The Final Curtain Call."  The actors linger a bit longer on stage, shed extra tears, and give each other tender hugs.  As soon as they leave the stage, they will strike the set, and the performances will be but a sweet memory, lingering in the clouds, and yet the experience was worth the brief moment that it existed.  The orchestra has stopped playing the music, but the song lingers on.

Journaling Prompt:  What are some precious momentos that you keep?