Brutus

Be-Bopping Around – ND #16

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Escher Pups, Be-Bopping Around – Photo: L. Weikel

Be-Bopping Around

Depending upon how organized you are, when you read this post you may or may not have ahead of you at least another half day’s worth of be-bopping around to pick up last minute meal fixin’s or find that final phantom gift that just refuses to ‘click’ into place. Others of you will probably be engaging in the extravaganza of final wrapping. It’s even possible some will be baking or similarly engaged. I’m happy to encourage you to think I’ll be draped beside the fireplace reading a book and sipping a cup of rum-laced nog.

Yeah. I’m sure none of you fell for that fantasy. I’ll tell you what, though. Just re-reading it made me chuckle at the picture it painted in my head. It might even qualify as Crone Porn. Although, come to think of it, it’s probably more a form of Mother-of-Four-Under-the-age-of-10 Porn.

When I think back to my 30s and 40s, I don’t know how I managed to stay upright during the six week sprint from Thanksgiving through New Years. And now with everything more heightened and intense – and I do mean everything – I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to be a parent.

I just hope by 3:00 p.m. or so tomorrow everyone will be very close to unplugging from it all.

OK, by 5:00, then. Man, you drive a hard bargain.

It’s a Test

To determine whether or not you’re stretched too thin and desperately need to break away from all the pressures and expectations, you need to look carefully at the puppy photo at the top of this post. What do you see? Are you sure?

I call this my Escher-Puppies. It’s a bit mind-twisty. Where does one begin and another end?

 

The Rehabilitation

As a person who feels responsible for maintaining a healthy connection with and between all of you, I cannot in good conscience leave you with the Escher Pups as your final image for the day. Thus I bestow upon you the great gobs of cuteness below.

If you’re feeling uptight or stressed out, look at this photo. Now imagine a Christmas-themed photo and maybe you’ll dream tomorrow’s post into being. (No, I did NOT take them to see Santa. I barely did that with my kids. There’s no way I’d do that to my pups.)

And besides, we all know and admit we’re suckers for puppy pictures. It’s the least I could do for all you holiday warriors.

P.S.: Tonight/tomorrow is our final exact Saturn square Uranus aspect. Woohoo! Let’s sit back and watch what happens.

Great Gobs of Cuteness – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+16)

A Weighty Burden – ND #5

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
OMG – Photo: L. Weikel

A Weighty Burden

You know, it’s hard being an older sibling. Not that I have any personal experience in that regard, mind you. I don’t. But I imagine it must occasionally feel like a weighty burden to shoulder.

I watch the sibling relationships between the felines and canines in this household and marvel at how much they ‘get’ each other. The whole cat/dog mythology is mostly, in my opinion, an extension of the male/female propaganda box we put ourselves into. There’s a lot more playfulness and actual caring going on between species than we care to admit.

Just this morning I was treated to a prolonged interaction between Cletus and Brutus. It probably seemed longer to me because at any moment I expected Cletus to haul off and whack Brutus into next week. And it’s in those moments when I’ve witnessed the most startling acts of gentleness.

But there are also some nuts and bolts training going on as well.

“I love you, Cletus!” – Photo: L. Weikel

Knock It Off

I led this blog post off with the photo above because it made me laugh. I hope it had a similar effect on you as you begin this mid-week of December. There’s a lot going on in the world. We need to remain limber and loose as we head into the final few weeks of 2021.

Of course, Brutus thinks Cletus is an icon. Perhaps someday Brutus can aspire to grow his black and white hair as long and luxurious as Cletus grows his. Of course, when he realizes his idol isn’t running away from him for once, he leans in to give him an impulsive, if utterly sincere, smooch.

Cletus, shocked by the youngster’s lack of decorum exercises restraint, but can’t help but whisper some advice into young Brutus’s ear. Whether it’s appropriate for the rest of the world to hear is debatable.

“I’ll tell you what…” – Photo: L. Weikel

The Way of the World

Judging by the expression on Brutus’s face, I have a feeling Cletus schooled the pup in some classic naughty words. It’s the way of the world. That’s what older siblings do. They pave the way for our growth, intentionally or otherwise. A well-placed claw can be one of the first hard lessons of the cruelties facing us in the outside world.

All in all, though, watching their relationship develop is an absolute delight. And I love imagining their conversations.

“Mommy. He said bad words.” – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+5)

Pupdate – ND #1

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Bigger Helpers (Tonight!) – Photo: L. Weikel

It just feels wrong not to write. At the very least, I must yield to the unspoken but palpable need I feel emanating from many of you for a pupdate.

After all, we shared the loss of Sheila. A year later, we collectively mourned the sudden loss of Spartacus. And then I disclosed the dream in which Spartacus showed up and told me – no, directed me – to get another puppy. I confessed how he placed his paw on my arm, looked into my eyes, and said, “You need me.”

I regaled you with the astonishing (and yet not) synchronicity of our Sarah finding a listing for Boston Terrier puppies and how they’d only become old enough to be adopted the very same day I was awakened by that dream. And then…well, we all know what happened next. Karl and I drove all the way across the state and became smitten with the littlest guy in the litter and his only sister.

No, they don’t always sleep, but… – Photo: L. Weikel

Love Triumphed

I think it’s fair to say you shared our heartbreak. And knowing this, perhaps weirdly, I was a little afraid to disclose welcoming these new additions into our family so soon after losing Spartacus. Although we searched our hearts and contemplated our motives, we – or more accurately I, since I’m the one with the relationship with all of you – worried our somewhat impulsive adoption might seem disloyal to Spartacus and Sheila.

I wondered if I should just keep the arrival of our new babies to ourselves.

But as all of you know, love triumphed. On some level, these puppies – Pacha and Brutus – are our collective healing balm. I trusted the internal nudging I received to write about our newest additions to our family. I decided sharing the joy was worth risking being judged.

They do 4 miles like pros now – Photo: L. Weikel

Simple Pleasures

Goodness knows, we’ve shared an exorbitant amount of collective trauma. The past three years have in many ways been like a roller coaster ride through the inside of a House of Horrors. From the personal to the national to the planetary level we’ve been dodging and catching some major body blows. And we took them as a community. Upon reflection, though, I’d say we shared some pretty cool stuff as well.

The truth is, puppies and kittens, regardless of age, make us smile. They remind us of life’s simple pleasures. If we’re lucky enough to have them in our lives, we know the indescribable feeling of being on the receiving end of unconditional love. (We know which species is usually more adept at conveying it, at least un-self-consciously.) And if we’re unable to have them in our lives at the moment, we can share the love vicariously. It’s a fact.

So here I am. Sharing the love. (And missing you.)

Check these puppies out.

Snuggling – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+1)

Cultivating Separation – Day 1106

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Puppaccino Pup (aka a ‘shill’ for Starbucks?!) – Photo: L. Weikel

Cultivating Separation

Brutus and I took a ride yesterday. By cultivating separation, we’re trying to get the pups to experience a little bit more of life without their sibling being constantly intertwined in their movements. We probably should’ve started this sooner, as the separation really seemed to freak Pacha out. I only say that because of Karl’s description of her reaction when Brutus and I left in the car. She kept looking out the kitchen door to see if we’d returned, and when we didn’t after about 15 minutes, she retired to our bedroom and buried herself under the covers. She even managed to win Tigger’s sympathy. He willingly shared our bed with her.

The separation didn’t seem to be quite as traumatizing to Brutus. At least, he didn’t whine or cry when we left. (Did I fail to mention Pacha cried at the door?) He did, however, express reluctance to stay in the small but comfy dog bed I placed in the passenger seat. He demanded to sit in my lap. This surprised me, as he’s willingly snuggled in that before, on other forays into the outside world.

Brutus – Photo: L. Weikel (I didn’t let him stay there very long)

Pit Stop

As part of our little excursion, I stopped at a local Starbucks and went through its drive-thru, ordering a beverage for myself. I’ve done this before with Spartacus or Sheila in the car and recall randomly being offered a dog treat on occasion. Never, however, have I ever heard the person filling my order ask, “Would you like a puppaccino?”

In fact, I thought I misheard her. “S’cuse me?” I asked. “No, I didn’t order a mochaccino.”

OMG, YUM. – Photo: L. Weikel

With this short snout, thank goodness I have a long tongue. – Photo: L. Weikel

She laughed. “Nooo! Your puppy! What a cutie!” I beamed involuntarily and reached over to pet Brutus, who’d finally decided to return to his shotgun status. “I asked if you’d like a puppaccino for your little guy.”

A puppaccino? I’d  never heard of such a thing (but it made me laugh). She explained that it was a splurge of whipped cream in a tiny sample cup.

Needless to say, I couldn’t say no.

What? Do I have something on my face? – Photo: L. Weikel

Positive Reinforcement

As you can see from the accompanying photos, Brutus enthusiastically endorses the Starbucks custom of providing puppies with whipped cream chasers. And I’m thinking this deliciously unexpected bonus will only serve to reinforce the notion in his mind that when he goes on adventures in the car with Mommy, there’s no need to be sad. Heck, a puppaccino could be in his future!

I just wonder if he told Pacha?!

Thank you, Mommy! – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-5)

Short and Sweet – Day 1101

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“Petting needs to commence,” says Cletus – Photo: L. Weikel

Short and Sweet

Since last night’s missive was dramatically longer than my usual posts, I’m thinking you guys might enjoy something short and sweet tonight. That is a rather self-serving cop-out, of course. I’m only suggesting I write a shorter post because I’m flailing about for something interesting to write about.

I must be getting old. Let me rephrase that, since none of us are getting any younger. Perhaps a better observation is: I’m definitely noticing the cold – and that’s making me feel old(er). It’s always been tougher to stick to the discipline of walking every night when late fall and winter approach. I’d say “this year is no exception,” except it is. I feel colder this year. Already. And I honestly think it’s me – not a case of the temperature being unseasonably cold.

Karl and I have had to cajole (or is it goad?) each other to move our bones the last few days. The worst part about the loss of Daylight Savings Time is that the sun sets way too early now. The good news is that we’ve actually managed to log some miles together for the first time in quite a while.

Venus in the cold November sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Quick Puppy Update

And why not? If I’m resorting to commenting about walks and weather, I might as well give you an update on the pups. They’re doing great.

At our vet appointment last week (for their 3rd set of shots), we discovered they’ve more than doubled in weight since we brought them home. They both managed to gain over three pounds each in the last month!

Pacha and Brutus, although initially tending to engage in some (literal) foot-dragging at the outset of every walk, are now becoming remarkably enthusiastic walking companions. I say that they’re doing great on our walks, and it is true, but it’s also true that the pups look at us with only thinly-veiled, “This is puppy abuse,” expressions when I start suiting them up. I imagine we’ll have a full-on puppy strike when the snow falls.

Tonight was just a lazy, snuggly night. I’m off my soapbox. For now.

Brutus and Pacha snoozing on Dad – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-10)

Diversity – Day 1095

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Brutus eyeing me up while Pacha pokes a caterpillar – Photo: L. Weikel

Diversity

It’s amazing to me how siblings can have the same parents and yet have utterly divergent personalities and proclivities. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, though – not when I consider the nature of my work and the things I’ve seen. But the astonishing diversity of life’s expression, whether it be human or animal, always holds a certain mystery.

Pacha and Brutus have been bringing this concept home for me lately. I know they are litter-mates. I saw their brothers (Pacha was the only female of the lot), and I played with their parents. And while they didn’t seem like clones of each other, you could definitely tell they were all playful and loved.

Right off the bat, though, Brutus wanted to be cuddled. He practically ran into my lap when I crouched down to sit cross-legged on the family’s front lawn. And while he couldn’t resist popping up and scurrying around to tumble and tug with his siblings, he would occasionally (and endearingly) touch base with me by running back and hopping into my lap again.

Pumpkin Scarfer

Pacha, on the other hand, seemed intent on ripping into a slightly smashed pumpkin that was under a bench at the side of the yard. She furtively snuffled her little piggy snout into the soft orange flesh and clearly relished scarfing it up. She joined in on the sibling tumbles too – and made a point of currying favor with Karl – but she was also definitely more independent.

Carrying that attitude forward, she continues to be a free-thinker. She eschews the limits we place on her and gives us the paw at every opportunity.

Most recently, she’s begun bending into a ‘down dog’ yogic position and barking at me when I call to her and ask/coax/command her to ‘come’ to me. A most defiant little pup. Not to worry; I’ve spoken to some who know what they’re doing – and I’m cautiously optimistic that she’ll soon realize I’m a bigger dog than she is. But it does make me wonder at their seemingly almost opposite personalities.

Puppy Pile (Pacha on top) – Photo: L. Weikel

Unique

Ultimately, we’re all unique. Only some of the diversity of our ‘selves’ can be explained by genetics. At least that’s my opinion. Yes, genes can combine in a vast array of different sequences, all creating different combinations of characteristics, etc. But I also think there’s something to be said for the individuality of our souls. And yes, I do believe animals have souls. They may not be quite the same as human souls, but there is something there when you look into an animal’s eyes that has a distinct essence to it that goes beyond skin, bones, and brain function.

I’m just scratching the surface of what I think about sometimes when I watch these pups interact with us, each other, and the other beings that inhabit this household.

But for now, all I’m saying is, there’s a reason why sometimes there may seem to be more photos of Brutus than there are of Pacha. He hangs around with me and gives me more photo-ops. Pacha would rather be out raiding a pumpkin patch or gnawing bark off our maple tree. (Sigh.) Or just giving me the paw.

Brutie helping me bake a Carol’s Chocolate Cake – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-16)

Trouble – Day 1081

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Trouble – Photo: L. Weikel

Trouble

Look at the photo above. Brutus is flirting with disaster. And Cletus is providing an almost irresistible target. No matter which way you look at it, trouble seems to be the most probable outcome.

While the expression on Brutus’s face is kind of cute, the energy of this photo sort of captures how I’m feeling at the moment. I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it almost physically painful to even look at headlines.

With all the harbingers of a truly horrific downfall of our country beating us over the head, day after day, I am gobsmacked that a handful of people are essentially holding us back from taking a huge leap forward in reclaiming our status as an enlightened country. It literally hurts my heart to contemplate how selfish and bought these so-called representatives (Senators) are to be refusing to allow progressive ideals even the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives.

Honestly, I find myself without words and feeling despair in my heart.

Anyone Else?

It just feels like we’ve been through so much – and there’s no respite, no blue sky. We never get the chance to see our ideas and ideals implemented. We never get to see what exercising compassion at the root of our country’s actions would yield.

And all the while, the rich not only get richer – they get obscenely richer. And two people who profess to be part of the party that wants to implement change for the vast majority of our country – just two – have the power to derail what millions of people voted for last year.

There’s no point in me even writing about any of this. I know. And that simple fact takes my breath away.

That Light

I don’t know why I’m compelled to write from such a dismal place this evening. Thank goodness I’ve had puppies to focus upon lately, I guess. Because Spartacus’s sudden death knocked the wind out of me. And the utter intransigence we’re witnessing in Washington D.C. right now is having a similar effect. It’s sucking the hope right out of my sails.

The light I think so many of us felt last November is turning out to be, in all seriousness, the headlight of an oncoming bullet train that’s going to demolish the United States – at least the U.S. we were raised to believe we were.

I feel powerless to stop it and – damn, I have to say – I loathe feeling powerless.

Something needs to change. The system as it exists now has been so corrupted by dark money (and light money – and money of every shade in between) that the country we thought we had no longer exists. And if hope is extinguished in most of us?

Trouble will have found its home.

Beauty in spite of it all – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-30)

Zoomies – Day 1080

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Puppy Pile Post-Zoomies – Photo: L. Weikel

Zoomies

I think the first time I ever heard the term was when my friend Anita used it. Honestly, I can’t remember if she used it to describe the behavior of her own dog or of Spartacus, but I know I knew immediately what she meant. There’s a particularly unique and specific behavior that the term ‘zoomies’ references, and there’s no question: you know it when you see it.

For those of you who don’t have family members of the canine persuasion, ‘zoomies’ are when a dog gets especially riled up (or excited to see that you really, really did come home and didn’t abandon them to the horrible murderers they imagined would come and take them away while you were at the store) and runs around like a maniac. Indeed, the jubilant celebration that occurs often entails the dog in question taking off and zooming around the yard (or through the house), taking unbelievably sharp curves and tearing about so fast that their hindquarters are almost dragging on the floor behind them.

Zoomies are both hilarious and slightly disconcerting.

Tigger: “I’d Never Do Zoomies” (he’s lying) – Photo: L. Weikel

Feline Version

Before I get in trouble with my die-hard cat people (and I count myself a member of that group as well), I will admit that kittens and cats have their own form of zoomies as well, and they are quite amusing. But, in my experience, dog zoomies (and especially puppy zoomies) are particularly distinctive.

Seeing a Pattern

It’s only been within the past couple days or so that a pattern’s started emerging. In fact, the first couple of times the pups went on a tear we tried blaming it on their food. Was it the new kind of hard kibble I gave them, which was different than the plain old Purina puppy chow their original family fed them? Better change it. Nope. They seemed to react the same way to a second brand of kibble.

The first couple of instances were also at varying times of the day (hence my connecting the behavior to when I gave them their crunchy food). We also had a day or two interspersed in there when we didn’t notice it happening.

Brutus Zonked – Photo: L. Weikel

But over the past few days, the zoomies have become an evening ritual. In fact, it hasn’t even mattered that they’ve walked – all by themselves – a full-on walk around (the two miler)! We thought they’d be exhausted after those. But no. It was almost as if walking the usual circuit wound them up like mechanical toys. So instead of falling asleep when we got home, they went bonkers. It’s becoming a 7:00 p.m. ritual.

Capturing the Madness

I desperately wish I could post a video here in the blog for you to witness these bouncing-off-the-walls antics because I swear you’d think these video clips were running in fast forward.

The zoomies seem to last about half an hour. The behavior during these tears runs the gamut of streaking, tackling, tumbling, biting, pinning, and and their vocalizations can border on the terrifying. They sound like they’re going to rip each other to shreds. The cats, understandably, seek higher ground during the onslaught.

It’s been a long time since Spartacus got the zoomies, and he mostly seemed to get them outside, when he was glad to see one or the other of us pulling in the driveway. We’re growing accustomed to how these almost feel like necessary growing pains. Our babies are growing up before our eyes.

Alas, while I cannot share the clips of them mid-zoom (but promise I’ll try to snag some stills mid-stride), I can offer some photos of them once they’ve spent their energy. Yes, eventually they do stop. And it’s often so sudden, it almost feels as though someone removed their battery packs mid-streak.

They’re a total hoot.

Pacha Zonked – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-31)

Stuff I Forgot – Day 1079

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Playful Pup – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuff I Forgot

You knew it would happen – or probably could’ve guessed. (Yes, yes; I know.) I knew it would be an effort. And there would be days fraught with challenges. But we did it 17 years ago! We were still a bustling household with two sons still living at home. Soccer games, musicals, all sorts of extra-curricular activities dominated our time. I was commuting to Philadelphia back then, for heaven’s sake; and traveling to The Netherlands for training. We even did it again four years later. Ooooh, but there was stuff I forgot.

I’d say mostly it’s the little stuff. But there are some bigger things too. The bigger things are all mostly associated with the adrenaline that floods my system when I see Pacha bolting after the ever elusive Cletus, ignoring every single, “Come!” I may shout.

Cletus likes to act like the Pied Piper and lead the puppies into the small patch of woods beside our garage. I swear he’s doing it on purpose, and sometimes I wonder if his intentions are even more nefarious than just getting them lost or yelled at.

Pacha tuckered out after our walk – Photo: L. Weikel

Big Stuff

I’d say most of the big stuff I sweat has to do with Pacha and Brutus’s safety, which of course is directly tied to their lack of discipline. We’ve been diligently working with them to at least get the basics down: Come; sit; stay.

Sadly, it seems some days I’m the one who needs to re-learn these commands, because it feels like we’re going backwards. For instance, when we first brought them home, the pups came to us all the time. They responded to, “Come!” like rock stars. Now? Not only don’t they come; they run in the other direction.

(And no, we don’t chase them. But sometimes we do feel like we’re the fools.)

Indeed, Pacha in particular has quite the sassy attitude. She literally talks back when I’m trying to train her to do something. I don’t know if she thinks I’m joking around or if she just thinks she looks cute getting into the classic yoga position of ‘down dog,’ her butt high in the air.

Their response to “Sit,” is fairly consistent. And I have to admit, on today’s walk they were pleasingly obedient when we told them to get “over” and “sit” when a car approached.

Little Stuff

And then there’s the ‘little stuff.’ Such as? Such as trying to figure out what to do when the puppies are encountering their first thunderstorm, with its attendant copious amounts of rain.

While they both sat up straight, roused from sleepy reverie when they heard their first crack of thunder (here at our house, anyway), they did not act fearful. OK, they may have burrowed a little deeper into their snuggles, but overall, they didn’t tremble or whine or act inordinately fearful.

But a good example of the small stuff to which I’m referring is getting them to do their business when it’s raining. Oh my goodness. Even without rain falling on their short, sensitive Boston Terrier coats, they often have to be coaxed to come down off the porch a minimum of six times (at least) before they’ll leave a deposit and make it ‘all clear’ for us to head to bed. But now that it’s raining?

Not. Happening.

It’s not like they’re so well trained about going to the bathroom outside to begin with. But adding the rain seems to be the death knell to progress on that score. They look at me and, quite literally, I feel like they’re both saying, “Why in the world would we do anything outside when we can do it in here, in this warm and dry indoor climate, and you just clean it up?” I suppose they have a point.

Growing All the Time

They’re still babies. And we’re still new parents (again), trying to remember how strict we were ‘back in the day’ to have caused Sheila to be as good a girl as she was, in spite of how busy we were.

Something tells me Sheila never talked back with anything near the intensity of Pacha. And I think she always jubilantly responded when we said, “Come.” Ultimately, though? I have faith in our process together.

And darn it if their cuteness doesn’t make up for a multitude of sins.

How do I get anything written? – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-32)

Tigger’s Protest – Day 1077

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Chill Til – Photo: L. Weikel

 Tigger’s Protest

One unexpected consequence of the arrival of Pacha and Brutus has been Tigger’s protest and the manner in which it manifests. While Cletus has been brutally frank in his intolerance of these interlopers, there’s actually been a form of détente reached. It’s rather astonishing to see Cletus greet the pups with a playful, “Mrrrrow” when he sees them on the porch – and even deign to a dance of mutual nose-and-butt sniffing.

Of course, the sniffing is always fraught with the potential for escalation. The seemingly innocuous (and almost deceptively friendly) greeting can devolve into a fracas at the slightest whiff of the lack of proper deference being offered on the part of the puppies. Cletus demands deference.

The weird thing is, Cletus slashed at both of them the first couple of days, especially when they played or even just existed anywhere near his food. And when I say slashed, I mean it. He drew a few fine scratches on both of them. This makes his acceptance of them now all the more puzzling.

Dreaming Brutie – Photo: L. Weikel

Back to Tigger

Tigger, on the other hand, has been the epitome of patience. They tackle him and act all fierce, wriggling their butts in the air and barking little yips at their erstwhile big brother. They practice ferocity on Tigger. And as they grow bigger and bigger, and obviously feel more and more comfortable in their new home, their bullying only grows worse.

But beyond the bullying is the distraction they provide. Tigger has recently taken to slyly slipping out the kitchen door when we’re herding the puppies in or out. While he has always been permitted to come outside and sit around with us, especially taking up a watchful position beside me on the glider, he also knows he is not supposed to go off the porch.

While we’re obviously paying more attention to the little ones, Tigger is leaping off the back of the porch and stalking prey in the bamboo between us and the neighbor. Worse, however, is that just today I discovered two completely swollen ticks stuck to his neck. Ugh. I loathe them.

So for his trouble (or lack thereof), he’s getting eaten alive by blood sucking parasites and bullied by a pair of 12 week old puppies.

Hmm. That stinks.

Still Pretty Small – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-34)