Inspired

I received a call a couple of weeks ago from a former student who had taken a number of my classes. When she first came to my class she had advanced cancer. That was two years ago. When she called recently, she told me it had progressed and that her time was limited. We had started an anthology of student work compiled from the classes she had taken and never finished it. She wanted to now. I got together with her this week to do so.

She spoke about her other projects -- two books she is hoping to get published, a current and upcoming art exhibit. She showed me the art project she had completed for one of these, discussing the texture of the paper and various printing costs. She is diligently working on her web site and blog, compiling years of her photography and writing.

She looked lovely in spite of an overall frailness and swelling in her abdomen. Her hair was longer than when I had last seen her (shortly after chemo) and her eyes were crystal-clear blue. They sparkled as she chattered about her busy life.

I wanted to snap her picture to remember the day, but was hesitant to ask. When I returned home I made this sketch and wrote this poem. I sent it to her the next day and told her that I wanted to put it on my blog. "I want to share with people how you inspire me," I said. "Not because of the cancer, but because of your creativity."

She is a person fully engaged in living. She is a creative force.

When I got home I sobbed.

Then I began to create.

In small letters she edits a big life down into words and images encapsulating dreams
on a computer, on a web site, in books, in photographs
sharing with others who she is, where's she's been, that she's here
that we all are
She reminds me to live, to work, to reach, to grow
Even when she is tired, even when a breath is hard
She reaches out and reminds me
Her story is our story and our story is hers

Waffles: The Movie

My brother and sister-in-law visited over Labor Day with my 7 month-old niece, Ellie. Waffles, who has an avid fascination with diapers, among other things, went crazy trying to find new ways to get into Ellie's diaper bag. While my brother nicely but firmly tried to scold her, repeatedly saying, "No, Waffles," I found myself just shrugging and saying, "Sorry, guys, there's nothing I can do." I said this while Waffles discovered and mutilated diaper after diaper.
When my brother began looking at me imploringly, I shrugged again, warning. "She cannot be controlled. She will not be contained."
"Sounds like a horror movie slogan," he said, while zipping the diaper bag shut and moving it to an even higher location. A few minutes later, Waffles flew by with yet another diaper.
"She cannot be controlled. She will not be contained," I repeated my mantra, nonchalantly producing the accompanying shrug.
What sounds like the latest horror movie slogan has become a fundamental truth in my life. It seems I am learning to accept it.
What is Waffles learning? Stay tuned. I'll give you an update soon!

Monkey Girl

Waffles on the Porch of Bedlam Farm

Like I said before, I know a pug isn't a child, but sometimes they have a way of filling us owners with a parent's sense of pride or shame. Today, my new pug, Waffles, should have filled me with pride. We attended a three-hour luncheon and writers' meeting at Bedlam Farm, home of writer Jon Katz and his wife, artist Maria Wulf, where she was the epitome of decorum.

Waffles has not had much opportunity to get out and about, so I was a little nervous about her behavior. I needn't have been. She sat at my feet throughout the whole meal only stirring occasionally. "She's so good," everyone murmured throughout the afternoon and she was.
"She is," I replied, "as long as I'm here with her, but leave her alone..."

I don't think anyone believed me. They had been reading on my blog about the Great Pugdini, the escape artist and the Devil Dog, and here sat a perfect angel, tolerant even of the denim dress I mad her wear.

So instead of being proud that my little girl impressed my colleagues, I was ashamed she wasn't putting on more of a show. I tried to explain to them that only moments before our arrival she had been swinging around the backseat of the car like a monkey. I have two doggie car seats in the rear of the car -- one for Alfie and one for Waffles. The car seats are designed to allow the tiny pugs to see out the windows while also securing them in place by a hook attached to their harnesses. Waffles has learned that if she flings herself in the air and hangs she has a chance of freeing herself. Thus, I had to stop three times on the trip to lift her back in place. After the last try, I finally let her loose to sit on the front seat, not safe for her if there were to be an accident and the airbag deployed, but it kept me from slipping into the wrong lane as I tried to monitor her in the back seat.

Waffles, however, was not content with that solution and kept jumping to the floor and slipping under the gas pedal and brake. A really bad idea, so I had to pull over a fourth time, take the hook from the back seat nad hook her to the front, where she sat until we arrived at Bedlam Farm.

On the way home, she started the procedure again. My little Monkey began swinging from seat to seat like a chimpanzee on a trapeze. I sighed, wishing that Jon Katz and the crew were in the car to witness the true nature of my dog. Then again, it probably wouldn't have mattered, she had already done her work and charmed them. Come to think of it, charming is the true nature of a pug, so I guess the little girl did me proud after all, but please believe me when I say, she doesn't always wear that face.

***For Jon Katz's version of today's events and to see a pic he took of Waffles and me check out his blog at www.bedlamfarm.com

A view of the interior of my car. Waffles hanging from her harness.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

Crate training update: I really thought I might be out of the woods  after Waffles went to sleep last night in her Thundershirt without even a whimper. Granted, it was very late and she had had a busy day, but this was the first night without any banshee screams and I was getting ready to give the Thundershirt a convert's endorsement. Come to think of it I still might, because Waffles was not wearing the Thundershirt when I left her in the crate this afternoon. I was afraid to leave it on her when I wasn't in the house because she has a way of slipping out of it and having it gather around her neck, so I placed her naked in her makeshift "den," and proceeded to get ready to leave her for  a few hours.

 

The screams started almost immediately and I turned up the radio in the hope that it would keep her company. "I'll be back little girl," I soothed. It did little good, but I reassured myself with the knowledge that she would soon quiet down and she could not break out of this crate as she has her x-pen. It helped that we had been having "trial runs" when I was home to get her accustomed and I had learned both of the above -- 1. that she eventually quieted and 2. she could not pull a Houdini in this style crate.

I was right! When I returned home several hours later -- a nervous wreck (my sister-in-law, a new mother, likened my trials to trying to get my niece used to her new crib) -- I found that indeed the crate had held. And, while the house was quiet when I opened the door, it took only seconds before Waffles began bellowing to get out. I turned the corner from the kitchen into the dining room where I left her crate and almost banged right into it. In her distress, it seems my 13 lb. pug had moved the crate, which has to weigh more than she does, at least 3 feet across the room. Well, at least she didn't get out.

I'd love to be able to allow Waffles to roam free while I am gone, but there is just too much traffic in and out of my house to allow me to safely do so. I can't trust that she won't sneak out the door, so we'll try the crate again tomorrow morning when I have to leave again. The training books assure us that dogs love their crates finding them safe, dark dens like they would have in the wild. I wonder...a cage is a cage is a cage...I might guess. I too balk at certain forms of security others feel I should embrace -- a traditional 9 to 5 job, for example. I'm going to keep trying the crate training for awhile, but I wonder if I were Waffles if I would be viewing this cage as my home.

Thundershirt

The vet and many blog readers have suggested I try the Thundershirt, a jacket that applies gentle pressure, to help relieve Waffles' anxiety about being in the crate. Personally, I'm not all that sure it is anxiety. I think Waffles just doesn't want to be confined. She grew up in a house full of dogs where she basically had the run of the place and rather than being a nice little dog den, I think she views her crate as a prison. But, in any case I'm willing to try anything if I can get her to feel better about being confined while I am out on assignment or teaching. The vet also thought the Thundershirt might keep her from scratching her stitches from the spaying, so it seemed like a good investment. I purchased one today and am going to give it a try. So, here comes the Thundershirt!

Return to Sender

I have to admit that after my first couple of days with my "Devil Dog" Waffles I had begun to consider ways to sneak her back to Pugdom. I wondered if there was a way to delete my blog entries so no one remembered her. I know, these are horrible thoughts, but the sweet little girl I envisioned seemed to be replaced by a snorting, screeching, screaming banshee.

 

Monday night she discovered the trashcan in the bathroom and although I removed her right away and sent her to bed, the next morning she darted straight back to the bathroom, finding her way back to the trashcan and the trash, which she soon spread from one side of the room to the other. Alfie wanted to help in the redecorating, so she came over and peed on the bathmat. Then Alfie ran downstairs to the carpet where she began to do circles, rubbing her butt on the floor. Not long after I fed Waffles her breakfast, which she promptly regurgitated. What was it about pugs that I loved?
Last night I decided to try placing a "heartbeat" Teddy in Waffles' crate to help her sleep and her screetches seemed to subside, but suddenly Alfie was whining confused by the noise. And, the heartbeat, which was on a timer, only helped for so long. Waffles was awake in a couple of hours screaming again. This may have been more bearable if I didn't have to be up at the crack of dawn to bring her to the vets for her spaying. As I loaded her in the car, she began to make these loud horrible pug snorts -- I have never had this breathing problem with my other pugs -- and I began to fear that nasal surgery might be in her future.

Driving to the vet's Waffles sat beside me on the driver's seat because she had worked her way out of the harness in the back. Again, visions of a late night return to Pugdom filled my head. My friend Joan has so many pugs she may not even notice Waffles for awhile I thought. "What am I going to do with you," I asked Waffles. And, I still don't know.

But as I looked down at the petite, black bundle snorting away in the seat next to me, a new thought emerged. What if something happens to her? I am responsible. This is my little girl. My visions of sneaking her back turned to once again sneaking her away, this time from the veterinarian. But I did the responsible thing. Five hours later, the vet called to tell me she had come through fine.
Her report informed me that she was a joy and was very relaxed and comfortable recovering in her crate. Oh no, I thought and not for the first time, I got the wrong dog -- no way my Waffles is comfortable in a crate, but as she snuggled in my arms, letting out a long sigh, I had a vision of the future and realized that she might just be a joy.

The Amazing Pugdini

Well, Waffles has been here one day and I have to admit I am beginning to understand where that "Devil Dog" reputation comes from. She is a force with which to be reckoned and she cannot be contained.

I mean that literally. She HATES crates, gates, any form of containment and my house is chaotic enough that sometimes she needs to be contained. We're going to have to work on it. Today, I had to be gone for about five hours. I tried to leave her in an x-pen. I pretended to leave, but stayed behind to listen. She became so frantic I thought she was going to pass out. Next, I tried she and Alfie in my bedroom with a baby gate across the door. Waffles actually seemed better, but Alfie went frantic. Didn't seem fair to her to force her to be up there when she has her own x-pen downstairs that she loves. I let them out and then decided to try the two in Waffles x-pen.

I placed them in the pen and again tried to leave. Again, I heard Waffle's screams and screeches. I was just about to go back in and free the two when they came flying around the corner. Waffles, the Great Pugdini, had found an escape hatch and brought Alfie along. It was aggravating but funny to witness how proud the two seemed at themselves.

Finally, I placed Waffle upstairs in my room by herself and Alfie down in her x-pen. It went all right, but later after I had been home, I discovered Waffles had peed on the bed. Now it's bedtime again and Waffles spends a good hour screeching in her crate before going to sleep. I received a lot of advice today and I plan on trying a great deal of it -- everything  from lining her crate with bacon (okay, that's an exaggeration, but I kind of feel like that may be what it takes) to building her her own wing (again, another exaggeration, but at this point finding a clean, empty and safe place to leave her seems just about as impractical.

I'm not sure what tomorrow will hold. I've always liked circus stories, but would prefer it if my life didn't become one. Still, with the Amazing Pugdini hard at work I suspect my life will remain a bit of a circus for awhile.

The Great Dognapping

So it happened: The Great Dognapping. At midnight last night, I smuggled Waffles out of Pugdom, my friend Joan's house in Warren, VT. As far as dognapping's go it was a great success. I managed to nab my pug and make it out alive. Of course, I must admit that Joan was privy to the whole escapade, in fact she even suggested it. She finally relented to letting Waffles be mine, but informed me that I would have to sneak her out of the house when she wasn't looking. So, I did, kind of. But Joan had given her a bath, cut her nails, and packed a bag of dog food and snacks for her. Still, I snuck off into the dark in a mad dash for my car, carrying Waffles and looking back over my shoulder in case Joan changed her mind.

She hasn't and Waffles is home with me now, snoring away on the sofa. She's smart! After only a half hour in my car she figured out how to slip out of her harness and her car seat. She hates crates and x-pens, so I'm not sure how to contain her and keep her safe when I'm not home and she certainly doesn't want to sleep in either. Only the bed for this little girl.

She and Alfie are getting along well. Today Alfie showed off her baby swimming pool to Waffles and took great delight in hiding bones from her. We had a busy day visiting Petco for supplies, my grandmother's for a swim and my brother's where they played with his boxer, Sophie. A busy day for a little pug!

On the Road

We're on the road again tonight and tomorrow. Alfie and I are headed off to another dog show in Ballston Spa, NY. There are supposed to be 43 pugs entered. We're keeping our fingers crossed that either it will stop raining or we'll be under a tent because Alfie doesn't like to get her feet wet. Wish us luck!

Bad Girls and Princesses

One of my favorite movies as a little girl was Disney's Cinderella. I loved the scene where the field mice helped transform Cinderella's rags into a beautiful gown for the ball.

I decided this week to create a new collage, featuring my pug, Alfie, and me, to use as the header of my long-anticipated web site. I have a specific idea in mind, which involves us dressing in Renaissance-inspired gowns.

Although it was relatively simple for me to find a costume online, discovering a perfect fit for Alfie was not so easy. I Googled dog costumes and either found clothes that were too pricey or too small or that would take too long to make (now that I have decided to go forward with the site, I can't wait weeks for the artwork to be complete). I had almost given up hope when I remembered that two years ago I had purchased a pug-specific dress at the Green Mountain Pug Social. The seamstress took into account the pug's rather unique (read chubby) physique and sized accordingly.

I emailed Green Mountain Pug Rescue and asked if they remembered the seamstress's name. They connected me with Debra Bauriedl Thesing of PugPossessed (www.pugpossessed.blogspot.com). Debra also sells her work on Etsy at http://www.etsy.com/shop/pugpossessed. Debra quickly became Alfie's fairy godmother.

I contacted her on Friday. She answered me right away and asked me to send Alfie's measurements. I sent them on  Sunday, she drew up a sketch and presented me with color and material options on Monday and began sewing on Tuesday. She mailed the outfit, which cost only $22  plus shipping in the mail by Wednesday lunchtime (some of the options online ran as high as $150 and took weeks to make. Bibbidi Bobbidi-Boo!

While Alfie was getting ready to transform into a princess, the other little girl in my life, Waffles, was getting into some trouble. I still haven't worked out the details of adopting this black mischief-maker, whom my friend Joan calls the Demon Dog. So, she presently resides at Joans' and well, to put it mildly, things have been a little bit busy at Joan's house lately. Joan's pug, Griffles, recently had a litter of five pug puppies, which are keeping both pug and human Mommy very busy. This means there is plenty of time for the other pugs to get into trouble -- the perfect opportunity for the Demon Dog to do her work.

A recipe for trouble, certainly! Add, to this mix the fact that well, Waffles is in season, meaning she needs to be kept away from any unneutered males if she doesn't want to risk becoming a Momma herself. So while Alfie was busy becoming Cinderella, Joan had Waffles locked away in a tower like Rapuznel and guess what? The prince found a way to climb her hair! It seems like my potential baby could have babies of her own. Not an option any of us want, so a spaying is at hand. Certainly, not a plot for a Disney movie.

I'm hoping that if Waffles ever does join my family, Alfie will be a good influence on her and not vice versa. It seems that while Alfie may be a princess, Waffles is a wee bit of a bad girl. Hmm, it may be I have the makings for a fairytale after all.

Debra's Sketch for Alfie's new dress.