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Alfie was originally given to me as a pet. When I saw her pedigree and realized that she was related to Tugboat Willy, a famous show dog, and attended a dog show where a number of handlers stopped me and suggested I show her, I decided to ask her breeder if I could give it a try. It required a new contract and some decisions on my part.

Conformation dogs are not spayed in order to pass on their outstanding qualities, but I was worried that by not spaying Alfie I could jeopardize her health. I had read that spaying a female before the age of two cuts down on her chances of mammary cancer. I also realized that if I was not going to spay her it would probably be good to have a litter. It turns out, however, that rather than coming into season twice a year, Alfie only comes into season once a year, so her opportunities are narrowed. Today, she began showing signs.

It also happened to be sunny this afternoon and much of the ice that had been coating the sidewalk had melted, making it easier to walk Alfie and Waffles, whose paws have not been tolerating the winter cold and road salts well. Both pugs were excited to be out and about, but I hadn’t given thought to the fact that Alfie might have other motivations in mind. We paused at every tree, fire hydrant and blade of grass for her to squat and pee and essentially leave her calling card for any handsome stud in the neighborhood – “I’m willing, ready and able,” she seemed to be saying and although there were no able-bodied males about, I have visions of a huge line standing outside the door in the morning.

I can’t breed Alfie this time around. Life is too hectic with my mother scheduled to have knee replacement surgery in May and having our first litter of puppies running about does not seem like the smartest idea, so unfortunately all Alfie’s advertising today will be in vain. She, however, seems quite happy. She and Waffles are curled up together on the sofa snoring away – deep, heavy snores that do not sound the least bit sexy or romantic.

Come next year she may have some courting to do, but for now my little lady will have to be content with daydreams and fantasies. She might be ready to find her soul mate or at the very least a one-night stand, but I know for certain that at this stage of the game, we’re sure not!

Feeding the Pets

 

Today I took care of my best friend, Sheila's, dog and two cats, feeding them and letting Muck, the hound, out while she and her family were away at her son's wresting tournament. The animals were perplexed to have me in the house. Muck likes me; to be fair she probably likes everyone, but I think she knows me a bit and was happy, I think, just to have someone share the house with her for a couple of hours. Of course, once I let her out she stood on a snow bank in front of the house for awhile, pointing and sniffing the air for her family. Roxy, the more active of the cats, kept playing peek-a-boo around corners in an effort to simultaneously remain unseen while keeping me in her view. Pug, the old, fat, gray Persian, hissed and hid. All three at least seem pleased by the food.

When I returned home this evening my own two enthusiastically greeted me, wagging their tail and hoping for snacks. Today I felt a bit like a food dispenser, my worth measured by a jury of hungry animals. Their verdict however seemed positive -- I did well and might just be okay to have around.

Freelance Work

 

I'm afraid I don't have much of a blog post tonight. My day job has gotten in the way. Last fall I started a three-part series on fallout following the national housing bubble burst for a local publication. The first part address lawyers, the second appraisers and part three, which I am working on now, mortgage lenders.

I wrote most of the day in the Books-a-Million cafe and still have to finish up tomorrow. I conducted a lot of interviews for this one and have tons of information to condense into a 1,500 word article. It's all part of a writer's life.

In the meantime, I hope you all had the chance to enjoy my interview with Barbara Techel. I hope to do more of these with other authors, artists and dog lovers in the future.

Art Project

A few weeks ago I received a text from my sister-in-law Becky asking for some ideas for decorations for my nephew Avery’s E.T.-themed birthday party. I informed her that we must have Reese’s Pieces and offered to create a cardboard centerpiece featuring E.T.

Yesterday was Avery’s party. I toted my cardboard E.T. centerpiece up to the house and Becky placed it on the middle of the table amidst all the presents. A lot of the adults commented on it and the kids seemed to think it was cool. I found Avery sitting in the middle of the table holding it at one point.

Soon, however, the birthday party was in full swing. Kids swarmed around the table to watch Avery open presents and to sample the chocolate cake with Neapolitan icecream. The mothers soon were busy scooping icecream and cleaning up chocolate icing. It was about that time we noticed that Avery and a couple of the other kids are missing.

“Where are they?” his mother asked.

“They’re outside shooting at E.T. with their pellet guns,” his older brother Raine announced.

My brother and sister-in-law seemed upset and worried that I would be.

“It’s okay,” I quickly assured them. “At least, he liked it.”

And, I meant it. Kids should be kids and although I put a bit of work into my cardboard E.T. it was for Avery and his pleasure. Moments later he burst into the room proudly showing the pellet hole above E.T.’s head, a big smile on his face. Art should be enjoyed and Avery did just that. He just turned my static cardboard figure into a performance piece. It became a joint venture.

Red Carpet Evening

We interrupt the blogging here at Pugs and Pics to let you know that we are are taking the evening off for the Oscars! Please tune back in tomorrow when we will resume our regularly scheduled posts.

E.T.

The snow fell heavy on Vermont today and although it was still a workday for me, it felt like a snow day and I found myself enjoying a blanketed world that had slowed down. I made a few appointments for next week, answered some email, checked Facebook and waited for a 2:00 p.m conference call with Barbara Techel, author of Through Frankie's Eyes.

I recently had the opportunity to review Barbara’s new book and will be featuring an interview with her on this blog later in the month. Although we had only spoken via email prior to this, we fell into easy conversation about writing, social media and dogs. This doesn’t feel like work, I thought even as Barbara and I made plans to have her speak over Skype to my memoir class.

Although I had articles to write, I decided to devote the rest of the day to some arts and crafts. My sister-in-law had contacted me yesterday to pick my brain about ideas for an E.T. birthday party for my nephew Avery. I suggested Reese’s Pieces party favors and promised to come up with a few things. So, this afternoon I gathered my markers and crayons, braved the cold of the garage to sort through cardboard boxes and then spent an hour coming up with a three-paneled E.T. centerpiece. I hope to buy some larger pieces of cardboard and create the bicycle and moon scene as a larger cut-out. It was fun although I found most of my markers had dried up.

That finished, I turned to completing my collage of the dogs dancing in front of the carousel. I plan on calling it “Dogs Dancing at the Carousel” and I already have one buyer for it. I added some rhinestones and glitter to make the carousel more festive and sewed tutus on some of the dogs. I am waiting for the glitter to dry before rescanning it into the computer, but tomorrow I will do so and post it here. Then it will go off to the printer and to be matted before sending it off to its new owner. Because the prints are a combination of digital and hand-drawn work, the rescanned image is the final piece, thus, I can offer more than one copy for sale. In the future I may create some limited editions and am considering doing so with this piece. We’ll see…

The world outside is white and the dogs are snoring on the sofa. I fell asleep with them a little while ago, waking up in time to write this blog. I have a busy day of writing ahead tomorrow and then the completion of the Self-Portrait Workshop. I will be posting more of my photos from that in the days ahead. Tonight is for rest and enjoying a world tucked-in.

Turkey Basting

I spent a long and discouraging day seeing a series of ear and sinus specialists. It seems I have an unusual knack for encountering oddballs and asses in the medical profession. Today, it was the later.

If you think I am prone to exaggeration let me take you back to one of those stories that falls into the categories – it could only happen to me and too strange to be  true. It happened a few years during an allergy appointment. At that time, I had been seeing a woman allergist for a number of years, who shared a practice with her husband. I was not fond of the woman, deeming her one of the oddballs, but since I only had to see her once a year to report on the progress of my allergy shots, I let it slide. One of the things I found annoying was the woman’s reluctance to allow anyone to accompany me into her office. I like to have someone there with me to hear what the doctor says and to remind me should I forget anything.  Yet, on the occasion that I tried to have my mother join me, I was warned first by the receptionist and then the nurse that the doctor liked to see patients alone. When I spoke up and said that I would prefer that my mother be there, the Doctor adamantly ordered her out of the room.

The doctor was an older woman, stern with a commanding air. I was intimidated, but I held my ground and my mother stayed, but this scene was repeated each time I visited her office. I mentioned the behavior to my primary care physician at the time, who became very quite and seemed uncomfortable, but said nothing. I continued to see the allergist because it was necessary to continue my course of allergy shots.

As I said, this continued for a number of years. The visits came to an end, however, one November when I went to her for yet another progress report. We were told once again that the Doctor did not want anyone coming into the office, so my mother remained in the hall between the Doctor’s office and that of her husband, also an allergist. I went in and after the usual formalities, the doctor said she needed to give me a shot. This was highly unusual and as I started to question her she breezed out of the room. A moment later she returned, shot in hand. At that moment, her husband appeared in the hallway and called in a question. She turned and said, “Honey, dinner will be ready soon. I’m basting the turkey!”

That was it. I was out of there. I returned to my primary care physician a few days later, reported what had happened and learned on the q.t. that the Doctor was retiring and may have been experiencing some dementia. It seems a number of people in the medical profession were recently in the know, but were letting her serve out her final weeks out of respect for her stellar career. Given her behavior over the last few years, I wanted to tell them this career had been a little less than stellar and maybe the onset of dementia went back a little further than they thought. I know this story is scary as well as humorous and could even have had legal ramifications, but it’s so typical of my medical experiences that I have become immune. It also set the bar. To me a good medical experience is to escape the appointment without being basted. If someone has to be a turkey, let it be the doctors and not me!

Good Company at Cockadoodle

Living in a small town has its perks. Tonight I experienced one of them. My mom and I decided to grab a bite at Cockadoodle Pizza Café, the local pizza place. It’s one of those places where not only does everyone know your name, but everyone you know will be there. Sure enough as we approached the counter I saw my friend Betty and her husband Jody waiting for their order.  “Are you dining here?” I asked, and though they weren’t planning on it they decided to join my mom and me for dinner.

It turns out that the two had just come from taking their dog, Paco, to the vet, which was quite the ordeal. We spent most of the meal exchanging dog stories – whose dog is the most hyper, the most ill behaved, the funniest sleeper. We swapped stories like pros and soon found us moving on to other topics – the trip they’re planning to Hawaii, their favorite places to visit. Jody told us about seeing an eagle sweep down upon a lake in the Grand Tetons. I told them about the time we arrived at a camp ground in the dark and stayed up all night because we were placed near some crazy wild beast that cawed and howled till dawn. It turned out in the light of day to just be an upset burro, and we all shared a good laugh.

We stayed longer than we would have if we were just grabbing a quick bite, but it was time well spent. When we went back out to meet the sub-zero temperatures, we found our hearts warmed by good food and good company.

A Creative Life

Today was to be the day. After attending a meeting of The Hubbard Hall Writers’ Group on Sunday and receiving a fair dose of inspiration as well as a project and a deadline for it, I had planned a long afternoon of writing. Well, first I was going to have some me time -- a long anticipated conversation with a friend to get some healthy eating tips, a little bit of camera time with the pugs for an upcoming photography assignment, and an hour of reading for a review I’m writing for the blog. All this first, followed by several unadulterated hours of writing. Or so I thought.

It’s a wonderful age in which we live. I know it is easy to find fault with being plugged-in and connected all the time, but the Internet brings myriad opportunities – access to information, ways to connect with like-minded people, the world at our fingertips. Its all pretty nifty until it isn’t. Today it wasn’t.

I decided to check my e-mail before beginning my glorious day creativity and found out that while I could receive incoming email I couldn’t send anything. I picked up my office phone to check my messages and discovered it was dead. I then reached for the home phone, on a completely different system and that also was dead. My father to the rescue. I quickly picked up my cell and gave him a call and within an hour he was on the phone with Comcast trying to clear up the office phone (Vonage) and Internet problems. First, however, he cut a new cable for the home phone and fixed that. Seemed not only was it an unrelated system, it was an unrelated problem. Just one of those strange coincidences when everything would go wrong all at once.

The call to Comcast began at 1:00 p.m. and involved a series of calls back and forth as the phone got disconnected and we were passed up a chain of command. All the phone representatives were very well trained in the niceties of customer service, apologizing for our frustration and being passed around so many times that you wanted to MUTE them, but none were well trained in the actual service part. We were told that this must not be a Comcast problem but a Thunderbird problem even though one of the computers in the house was using Thunderbird and one Outlook and all had to go through Comcast for Broadband. By 4:00 p.m., three hours later and one deleted Comcast account from my computer (which took all my stored folders and email) and one monthly $14.95 charge for an upgrade to Comcast Signature Service, and we finally reached a technician who could walk us through the problem. Seemed Comcast had made a change to their outgoing port and had sent an email several months ago alerting us to the change. I have no knowledge of ever seeing said email, but in any case with a few clicks, another hour later, all the computers were sending mail again. Funny, how no one could tell us about the port problem 5 hours earlier when we made the first call.

Feeling wiped out and frustrated from the day’s events, Dad and I decided to go out to dinner at the local pizza hangout – Bethel’s Cockadoodle Pizza Café, run by one of our local vet techs and her husband. I love the atmosphere, the roosters and chickens that make up the décor and the strange juxtaposition of this unique mascot with the Italian pizzeria motif. Add to this that the restaurant is held in a historic building that houses an old fashioned soda fountain and you’ve got a special charm found no place else. After heaping helpings of spaghetti and Greek salad our moods improved and we realized the day wasn’t a total loss. My Dad and I actually worked together to solve a problem and the pugs were happy to have me confined to the kitchen all day. I didn’t get any writing done, but somehow I felt a sense of achievement – we had waged a war and we had won!

We all have visions of the Creative Life as an enriching, fulfilling experience and it can be. As my friend and mentor Jon Katz says it can also be work. Mostly, like life in general it is a balancing act with many balls in the air all at once. I need the Internet, I-pad, computer and phone to do my job. I also need quiet space and creative time in which to work. Today I planned on the second, but had to deal with the first. The reward, I think, comes in taking victories when you can find them and using the trials for inspiration. At least now all my gear is ready for me to get to work tomorrow.

A Facebook friend who has been sick with the horrible bug that’s going around said, you never appreciate your health until you lose it. The same might be said for a good Internet connection. Having been sick myself since Christmas I’ll be happy when both are restored, but in the meantime I’m not waiting for a Creative Life to happen. I’m seizing the reins and working with where I find myself at the moment. That’s the true meaning of vocation isn’t it? Working with where we’re at, with what we have? To this day then, I was called.

Rhythms

I was reading Jenna Woginrich’s book Barnheart the other day. At the beginning of the book, after she moves from Idaho to a small cabin in Vermont, she writes about waiting for spring so she can get to work establishing her backyard farm. She talks about missing the rhythms that a farm provides.

Another friend recently lost her pug and she has been posting a series of Facebook statuses on the changes in her schedule such as missing her little one’s morning wake-up bark.

A life with dogs provides a daily rhythm. This is true for everyone, I think, and especially true for those of us who are single, widowed, divorced – who might otherwise be alone. Oftentimes such a remark feeds into “the crazy catwoman” stereotype – the belief that our dogs or cats are a substitute for what we lack. I don’t see my pugs as a substitute. I do not have them to fill a hole, yet, fill a hole they do nonetheless. Their walks and feeding schedule, naptime, and snack-time provide as reliable a daily routine as the movement of the moon. In fact, Alfie and Waffles know our rhythms better than I do.

If I sleep too long or work too long or choose to forgo grabbing my computer to work on the sofa, they begin a series of whines and screeches, circles and barks – it’s time to let us out, it’s time to eat, it’s time to snack, when are we going to curl up on the sofa, where’s my bone?

Sometimes it can be a little stifling. If I shift in my chair a certain way Alfie interprets this as playtime and begins scratching at my leg until I pay attention to the stuffed animals she’s brought me. Sometimes, I’m trying to hold a conversation and she goes scratching at the back door in the hopes that I’ll get up, open it and throw her a bone. She does not, by the way, want to go out in the slightest – she just wants the bone and the attention. Waffles lacks all subtlety. If she wants me she simply lets out her banshee scream. It can be annoying and frustrating. It is also comforting.

When I come home they greet me. They smother me with kisses whether I’ve been gone five minutes, five hours or five days. Without them the house would be empty. Their whines and their screeches speak of life. We are here, they say, so are you.