Brutus being a hogger not a pig – Photo: L. Weikel
Opposite Day
I might as well call today Opposite Day. As magical as yesterday was, with the myriad animal sightings and a meteor streaking across the sky, today was, well, lovely but benign.
OK, maybe benign isn’t the opposite of magical. Perhaps I’m exaggerating a tad the difference between yesterday’s and today’s experiences. I’ll concede that, if pressed, I probably wouldn’t want to experience the literal opposite of a magical day.
In fact, today was rather delightful. A warm front came through (or perhaps the frigid arctic front just left) making it almost feel as though taking a walk without a jacket might be on the agenda. It wasn’t. I got chilly before stepping off the porch. But it was tempting.
Pacha Pig-nose – Photo: L. Weikel
Clarification
I posted the other day about a pig in my life to whom I’ve given the name Princess. Let me be clear: this is an unofficial naming. Indeed, I feel she told me her name is Princess. But I’ve not seen her paperwork, nor would I trust it to accurately reflect what Princess would like to be called anyway.
Princess is not my pig. She abides on a neighbor’s farm. Said neighbor is a farmer and part of this farmer’s offerings to his customers are pork products.
This makes me very sad, but it’s not for me to judge nor to condemn. I do, however, choose to bond with Princess and at the very least let her know that she is loved and seen and appreciated while she’s alive. I’m grateful for her being my friend who pokes her head outside of her hut and then runs out to greet me whenever I walk by.
I intend to give her a carrot now and then, in addition to the dog treats I inevitably carry in my pocket. Based on suggestions of a friend, I may occasionally bring a different vegetable or fruit (an apple, squash, spinach, cooked broccoli?) but if I’m honest, I’m lucky when I remember a carrot. So if she only gets what is the equivalent of a piece of candy from me (a carrot) now and again, I admit to feeling little to no remorse. She could have worse friends.
Alas, the past two days it’s been dark by the time we reached Princess’s abode. So even though I remembered her treat, I didn’t see her.
Princess Pig-nose – Photo: L. Weikel
Admission
I’ll admit it: I’m hoping she might have babies. I shudder at the prospect of their future, too, but hey. We all have our destinies. And as our puppies have turned six months old already, the prospect of bonding with some piglets is a tempting daydream.
This morning both Brutus and Pacha eyed me skeptically when I enthusiastically chirped, “Wanna go for a ride? Who wants to go for a ride?” The last time they went for a ride with me was to the vet for another set of shots a few weeks ago. Their enthusiasm remained underwhelmed when I threw in a further enticement, “And then we’ll take a walkie?”
If looks could say, “Umm, no,” they speak it fluently.
The thing is, I knew they would enjoy the walk. We’d be exploring new territory (for them, anyway) so there would be an abundance of new odors, as well as a plethora of nooks and crannies to explore.
We were going to meet a dear friend to walk along the towpath between the canal and the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). As you know, the pups generally love taking walks – unless, of course, temperatures are in the wind chill vicinity of zero or below or, Goddess forbid, it’s raining. Rain is an utter deal breaker. It’s worse than snow by a mile. But the sun was shining and I could tell the day was already milder than yesterday.
“Did someone say ‘puppaccino?'” (Brutus) – Photo: L. Weikel
Pit Stop
I wanted to splurge and supply a hot beverage for my friend and me to enjoy on our walk. When I thought it through, though, I realized I had to go to a Starbucks with a drive-thru, for the carnage two puppies could do to the inside of my car if I left them unattended for even ten seconds could be catastrophic. So I negotiated a slight detour to a drive-thru in a nearby town.
As we began our journey, the pups settled into the dog bed I placed on the passenger’s side seat. Pacha seemed to fall asleep immediately, while Brutus leaned against her and simply eyed me with a slightly baleful expression.
He perked up slightly as we sat in line to place our order. There was something familiar going on here, and he knew there was something pleasant associated with it. I could tell he couldn’t quite place it…
And then I rolled down my window and placed my order. While I wanted to order puppaccinos for my babies, I didn’t want to chance them getting sick. This was a lot longer ride than running to the vet, and I was becoming uncomfortably aware of the stench of mothballs* wafting through the vehicle, despite my best attempts to open all the windows a couple of inches to keep the air circulating.
I hesitated when the barista asked, “Is there anything else I can get for you?” I casually mentioned that I would love to ask for two puppaccinos, but didn’t think that was the best idea.
Brutus’s head snapped up and he had both paws on the center console in a split second. “Did you say puppaccino? Mommy? Did someone say puppaccino?” And yes, he literally began licking his lips.
Best Laid Plans
When I got to the pick-up window, I endured the overwhelming disappointment emanating from Brutus when I declined their offer. I did accept two small dog treats instead – to which Brutus promptly turned up his nose. Nope. He knew what he wanted and it wasn’t a random hard breadstick.
Well, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes later, I noticed Brutus was licking his lips a lot more – and drooling a little – and I had no illusions that this was related to a puppaccino. No, I knew he was readying himself to do a purge.
And yes, once again, he quietly (I’ll never get over how much quieter dogs barf than cats and their histrionic heaving and acking) left the contents of his breakfast, which he’d eaten a good two and a half hours earlier, all over the center console of the car. He also managed to throw up a goodly pile on the dog bed, slightly on and perilously close to his sister.
This not being my first rodeo with this pup, I’d at least come prepared with a roll of paper towels, which I used to haphazardly mop up and consolidate the…evidence. (Thank goodness it doesn’t smell like people barf, is all I can say.) Brutus, looking alternately accusatory and remorseful, then curled up and tried to sleep.
Two minutes away from our destination, Pacha suddenly stood up and tried to get into my lap. While I sympathized with her desire to extricate herself from her brother’s embrace, I had a feeling she was headed for a similar destination. Stopping at the stop sign literally 100 yards away from our destination, Pacha blew lunch all over her front paws, the back of their seat, and the arm of my jacket.
Wow. Unlucky. I just had to laugh.
Ice Sliding – All Better! – Photo: L. Weikel
All’s Well
In spite of it all, we ended up having a wonderful walk along the – very smooshy – towpath. I should’ve taken a photo of them with their mega-muddy paws, nearly caked up to their ‘elbows.’
Once we got home and regaled Daddy with gory details of our adventure, we took another walk. This time, they purged themselves (no pun intended) of their muddy memories and engaged in some serious ice-sliding – a pastime growing more and more beloved on each frozen outing.
*Karl insists on keeping packs of mothballs in the car due to our experiences of having mice move in and use our vehicles as homes, especially during the winter. Even worse, they’ve been known to eat the wiring for snacks. A pretty unsustainable situation, but for which we all seem to be paying in degrees of nausea. It makes the answer to “Wanna go for a ride?” a lot less enthusiastic than it would be otherwise.
Today’s walk was especially fun and refreshing. For one thing, we got on the road at least an hour earlier than we’ve been managing most days. There are trade-offs, of course – no stars splashed across the midheaven. But it also got up to 30 degrees today, which made the entire excursion much more pleasant for all four of us.
Indeed, Brutus and Pacha stayed home yesterday – we just didn’t have the heart to drag them out in those frigid temperatures. Brutus missed a walk earlier in the week after he dug his feet in and refused to budge an inch as we started across the lawn. Nope! I wasn’t having that, so I turned right around and took him back into the house. He spent our ‘walkie’ time cooling his heels (keeping them warm, actually) in his crate. I think he was stunned that he had to spend an hour all by himself, while Pacha gamely walked like a big girl. He does not like to be left behind!
It may seem like I was over-reacting or not trying hard enough to talk him into walking with us. But in fact I nipped that behavior in the bud because about a week ago (when it started getting really cold out) he just stopped in the middle of the road and insisted upon being carried. We were only about halfway through our walk. (I know, I know. Don’t judge! I’m stubborn too and I really thought I could out-wait him. But his balking was causing the rest of us to freeze – so I relented and carried him home. Let me assure you: schlepping an extra 16 lbs. over a mile or two is exhausting.) The crate was the only option if he was planning on being a jerk again.
Spirit Bird and Hummingbird – Photo: L. Weikel
No Stars, But…
Bright sunshine. Slightly more pleasant temperatures. And the opportunity to introduce the pups to the unexpected delights of frozen puddles! I wish I could easily post the video I took of them discovering the fun of slipping and sliding on the intermittent puddles frozen in fields beside the road. Oh my, they were so cute.
We also encountered a stunning cloud seemingly diving toward Earth from the heavens above. It almost looked like it could be diving toward a baby bird straining to meet its mommy, or perhaps a hummingbird. I’m including a couple different shots of our experience of those amazing clouds because each provides a different perspective. I almost want to call the biggest one cloud the ‘Holy Spirit’ cloud, since it reminds me of how I envisioned the Holy Spirit descending upon the apostles when I heard that story in church as a child.
Oh! And because we were walking while it was still light out, we also were graced with the presence of two very plump Eastern Bluebirds and three Red Shouldered Hawks.
Yes, there are trade-offs to consider with almost all decisions we make. And even though we didn’t hear any owls calling their love songs (it was a little early for such canoodling), I’ve no doubt we made out in a very big way today.
Tigger enjoying a few tender moments alone – Photo: L. Weikel
Most Treasured
It’s funny. I keep trying to jump-start this post by declaring what I refuse to write about for a third night in a row. For once, I really wanted to witness victory being snatched from the jaws of all-but-certain defeat. But it was not meant to be. Apparently we really are going to have to live out the nightmare of watching our country’s most treasured and revered foundational concepts crumble before our eyes, mostly because people simply cannot wrap their heads around the fact that this ‘really could happen’ in the United States.
So tonight I’m just going to keep it light.
Cuteness Prevails
Take Tigger, for example. According to the adoption papers we received when he was rescued years ago by my son and his then girlfriend (now wife), he’s starting to get up there in years. In fact, I think he may be 16 years old or so.
Tigger is by far the most patient of all our animals, but especially the most patient of our felines. He was the first to welcome the pups with open paws, and he endures relentless acts of butt-sniffing and puppy-tackles on a daily basis. It’s rare for him to lash out at either pup. Indeed, the only times I’ve ever seen him hiss or retaliate in any form were when they either took him utterly by surprise or, not surprisingly, when they simply refused to knock off their antics after too many tumbles or nips.
As many of my photos attest, the pups tend to be hogs when it comes to nestling in front of the fire. Once they’ve outgrown puppyhood, I’m pretty sure they’ll welcome cuddling with the felines – or perhaps I should say the cats may decide it’s safe to snuggle with them. But in the meantime, they swing from one end of the spectrum (as bundles of effervescent energy) to another (dead-weight, snoring, lights-out immovable lumps) in the blink of an eye. Consequently, the cats are finding languishing fireside to be an indulgence they rarely experience.
And so it was adorable earlier today when I discovered Tigger snatching a few zzzz’s hearthside, sharing the pet pillow with one of the pups’ favorite toys: the Fox. (The pups were asleep in their crate; I forget why.)
“MY Fox” – Photo: L. Weikel
Melts My Heart
It’s moments like these that melt my heart. Tigger, as old as he is, still plays like a frisky kitten – when the mood strikes him. Usually the mood hits when I’m making our bed. He mrrrows and arches his back, hops sideways and tackles my hand when I’m smoothing out the comforter. He’s hilarious. But I also watch him as he observes the mad scrambles of Pacha and Brutus when I throw their toy (the Fox, again, being a favorite) and they race to bring it back to me.
If it weren’t below his dignity, I actually think he’d be tempted to race after the toy himself and triumphantly bring it back to me. Or at the very least, jump on it and fling it a couple of times.
He just jumped up on the couch and mrrrowed to me. “Time for bed, Mommy.”
So now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to forget about the sad state of our country and go snuggle with my Tiggery.
Staying Warm and Plotting Strategy – Photo: L. Weikel
Puppies Extraordinaire
Karl and I managed to take a brisk walk in this afternoon. Thank goodness we got it in before the sun set! I don’t think the temperature managed to reach 20 degrees today, but I know for sure it dropped as soon as it got dark – and I see it’s 14 degrees out right now. But the two I really want to give a shout out to are Pacha and Brutus. They are puppies extraordinaire.
We couldn’t ask for better companions. They jauntily trot along with us no matter how cold it is. While I do think they might balk if we asked them to walk in unplowed snowfall (umm, who wouldn’t?), they reliably overcome their inevitable initial misgivings each and every day.
Yes, they adopt hangdog expressions and their body language broadcasts long, plaintive, “Noooooooo!”s when we suit them up with their harnesses and coats. But who can blame them? Almost inevitably, we’re waking them from cozy cuddling and snuggly slumber. It’s a harsh transition, I’ll admit. It is for us, too, to be honest.
Frozen Ground
The freezing temperatures have a big impact on our ability to blow off steam. And let me tell you, five month old puppies build up a lot of steam. (And yes, the chewing – oh my – probably warrants a whole post on its own.) Before the ground froze, we were still able to take a break and get outside in the late morning to play with toys. (I’m a sucker for ‘fetch’ – I’m in it for the long haul as long as they keep bringing it back to me!) But that joyful activity lost some of its appeal when they realized just how much it hurts to skid across the grass when the ground underneath no longer ‘gives.’ It only took a few yelps to squash their enthusiasm.
Which brings me back to the necessity of our walks, even if they are on the chilly side.
I’m pretty sure Sheila and Spartacus charged these pups with the sacred responsibility of keeping us moving. Or maybe it’s Karl who encourages them to be such great walkers. They sometimes conspire with one of his emissaries…
Definitely Plotting – Photo: L. Weikel
One thing all four of us agree on: it’s utterly delicious (and absolutely indulgent) to come home from a walk in the crisp winter air and snuggle in front of a fire. We’re incredibly fortunate and I’m so grateful for our lives together.
Finally! A snowstorm! Until today, we’ve barely even had flurries. It’s hard to believe this was the first appreciable snowfall of the fall/winter season. I’d say we got about 4” – which was just right!
For Pacha and Brutus it was their first encounter with the fluffy white stuff. The adventure began last night, when I took them out for their last-chance, just-before-bed, relief opportunity. They both seemed perplexed by the white globs of cold stuff falling on them as they did their business. But the extra nip in the air provided by those flakes simply hastened their single-pointed focus to return to the house and dive under the covers.
This morning, however, their vastly different personalities were evident. While both were tentative at first, Pacha quickly reveled in prancing through the white stuff, kicking it up with her feet and burying her snout in the piles she created.
On the other hand, Brutus’s distaste for the whole cold, wet affair was obvious. With a little coaxing from his sister, he grudgingly scampered about for a few (very few) minutes. (Maybe not even a whole minute, to be honest.) But he quickly made it abundantly clear that, no thank you, he’d much prefer snuggling in front of the fire.
“This is SO FUN!” (Pacha) – Photo: L. Weikel
Indulging Both
Not wanting to play favorites, we let them snuggle in front of the fire and dragged them out for a walkie in the white stuff.
Neither one of them balked at taking a walk this afternoon, though, which surprised us. It’s not uncommon for us to have to coax them for the first hundred yards or so, just because they tend to be sticks in the mud – especially when it’s cold out. So we thought for sure that walking in the snow would prove to be even more of a hassle, but we were wrong.
There was a bit less lollygagging and sniffing at the weeds along the way. But all in all, even Brutus seemed to have a good time taking a walkie in a winter wonderland.
And when all was said and done, the Grinch and the warmth of a fire awaited.
“Let’s go home and snuggle in front of the fire!” – Photo: L. Weikel
What a soggy, surreal start to 2022. The layers of fog undulating in the fields surrounding our home only added to the other-worldly, time-standing-still quality of the day. And while I know temperatures are expected to plunge to more seasonal digits within the next day or so, it was a little disconcerting to barely need anything more than a heavy sweatshirt to take a walk. The main upside to this balmy respite was the chance to spend more time outside playing with the puppies.
I’m not going to talk of resolutions or even aspirations. Not today. Maybe in a few. Maybe next year. We’ll see.
Instead, as we put a bow on the top of this holiday season, I sense the need to bring some puppy love to the party. It feels like it’s been a while since I shared any photos of Pacha and Brutus with you, and I have to tell you – they’re growing exponentially. If I don’t show you some soon, you may not even recognize them!
Waiting patiently – Photo: L. Weikel
Personalities
The personalities of these two siblings couldn’t be more different. Brutus is laid back and would probably do anything to please me. He’s sweet and sensitive and doesn’t like to get his feet wet. He’s learned a variety of commands and performs them quite well.
Pacha on the other hand is relentless yet distractible. Resembling a black and white torpedo, she zooms across the lawn with such speed and abandon that when she attempts to change direction and circle around, she’s been known to skid out a couple feet on her back or side. She pops right back up, not at all the worse for wear but for some muddy skid marks on her coat.
And while she definitely loves us and doesn’t want to make us angry, she paradoxically only follows our commands if she either randomly feels like it or she sees a benefit to herself to ‘listen.’ I’ve heard her literally bark a ‘no,’ when told to sit when she doesn’t feel like it. It borders on the creepy.
Almost! – Photo: L. Weikel
Circus Performer
But the funniest part about her personality is how I swear she could be a circus performer. If I had the inclination, I bet I could teach her to ‘dance’ on her hind legs to entertain us all. My confidence level is high because I’ve seen her do it already. The trick is to get her to do it when I ask her to – not unlike the issue I have with every other command we’ve taught her.
I did manage to get a couple of shots of her dancing for a toy today, which I’m sharing with you here. Brutus sort of sat there watching in awe as she went through her gyrations.
But I throw down the gauntlet. I dare you to avoid having the Big Top’s theme song (yut dut duddy dut da-dut dut daaah det….) run through your head when you see Pacha on her hind legs.
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.
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.)
“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
