Visions of my girls in the last snow storm.
Pug Figure Skating
The girls and I have been enjoying the Olympic Figure Skating. They are curled up beside me on the sofa with Olympic dreams of their own. For my roly poly little wonders to don a pair of skates, it would truly be a dream.
*Please note that this sketch is available for sale in the Gallery section of this blog.
All Heart
You often hear it debated whether dogs have souls, it cannot be debated whether they have heart. If I had any doubt of this, my pug Alfie proved it to me on Friday when we awoke to mountains of snow in the backyard. Alfie does not like to be cold, she does not like to get her feet wet. While my other pug, Waffles, begs to go out to sit on the stoop in the sun, Alfie prefers to be inside with me. But when she saw me plowing through the snow following my niece and nephew who were shoveling a path through the backyard, she gamely came off the steps. The snow was mostly over her head and in her eyes, she had no idea what we were doing or where we were going me, but she followed me through the snow as it froze to her nose and eyelids. She is not a husky or border collie, a Lab or a retriever, she is a pug–a couch potato and it takes a lot of heart when you are as short and round as a real potato to charge through an ocean of white stuff, way over your head. She did it to follow me. I think she would follow me anywhere.
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Sweet Pea Visits
Joan and Jane brought Sweet Pea along for the ride tonight. She is getting weaker and admittedly doesn't look good, although her tongue has been hanging out for years -- ever since she was kicked in the jaw by a horse. She can't walk any longer but she enjoyed the fries and cremee Joan brought her from McDonald's. I have been talking a lot to her former owner gathering tales of her youth, which I hope to share in the future.
Visitors
My friend Joan, Waffles' breeder came with our friend Jane to see my new office today. They stopped at the house ahead of time to say "hi" to the girls and see there new, bigger bed in front of the stove. It never ceases to amaze me how excited my pugs get to see Joan. Waffles, I understand, she belonged to Joan for the first two year of her life, but Alfie gets even more excited than Waffles each time Joan arrives. Joan, of course, is equally enthused to see them. It is hard not to think of her as an animal whisperer when you see this exchange.
Snow Day
Snow, snow, snow! It began falling in the wee hours and continued throughout the day. It blanketed everything, creating a cozy comforter of a day. It was the kind of day where people stay home from work and nest with a cup of cocoa and a good book.
I stayed home, but my day held busy work: emails to send and answer, a guest blog post to write, to-do lists to check off. I’m taking a class on self-publishing, and another online class on Blogging from the Heart. I am teaching a poetry class and working on deadlines for four articles. Sometimes I am so busy working I don’t have time to get anything done. So, I love this kind of day, when the world comes to a standstill long enough for me to catch up. I made corrections to my short story for my self-publishing class, did my blogging assignment, sent emails out to real estate agents for my real estate closings’ article, printed out directions to tomorrow’s interview, scheduled another interview for next week and yes, crossed off a number of to-dos.
As daylight started to wane, I took my SLR and tripod outside to snap a picture of the girls and I in the snow, hoping to use it for my guest blog, but decided instead to post it here. We’re kinda cute aren’t we?
Then the girls and I came inside for their favorite part of the day. Sofa time when pug snores grows as deep as the snow and blanket my world with peace.
Chillin' By the Fire
My girls have been spending most of this winter right by the stove. The bed was for them to cuddle in, but Waffles prefers to keep all her toys in there instead. So the pugs sit off to the side while the toys, balls and bones chill by the fire.
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Narnia
One of Joan's pugs -- Narnia/Sweet Pea -- who was returned to Joan when her owner could no longer care for her -- has lost the use of her legs, just like my pug Vader did. Unlike Vader, she likes to squirm and move and get herself trapped in all sorts of strange places, so Joan pretty much has to take her with us everywhere. Sweet Pea, as her owner called her, or Narnia, as we first named her, came back to Joan because her owner Nancy had an ill father. Traveling back and forth to Florida to care for him was not fair to Sweet Pea, so Nancy gave her back to Joan. She has missed her ever since. Narnia was born on my lap 10 years ago and stayed at Joan's for many years before going to live with Nancy. As a result, I have always had a fondness for her. When I hear Nancy talk about her my heart almost breaks. There is such affection in her stories. I contacted Nancy via email the other day because I wanted to know more about Narnia's time with her. I thought I might write about it. She told me how she named Narnia after a can of antique wrinkled sweet peas and how she misses her still. Narnia is tiny and frail in body but her mind is active, her spirit downright feisty. Nancy's one request when she surrendered her was that we not tell her when she dies. "It will break my heart," she says. She wrote that she hates to think of Narnia's legs. She remembers how much she hated the cold and how she wouldn't put all four paws on the ground at once. "It makes me sad to write of her," she said. "She is a dear little bundle of black love and I miss her all the time.
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Kindred Spirits
I followed Joan from the doctor's office to scheduling where Walter checked us out. They began their familiar dance of friendly flirtation -- he charming the older woman, she putting on the coquettish airS of a young southern belle. "You're wearing pink today," she purrs. "Yes, I am," he winks.
"I don't suppose I can get you down here at 7:45 in the morning?" he asks, consulting his computer. Joan and I both laugh. "She's not exactly a morning person," I explain. "She's the only person I know you can call anytime of night and she will answer. So, if you ever want to call..."
"Hi, this is Walter," he says in a creepy voice.
"Yeah, maybe you don't want to call," I said.
"Where are you from again?" Walter asks Joan. "Warren?"
"Up near Sugarbush," she replies.
"Are you from there, too?" he asks.
"No, Bethel," I respond.
"I used to live in Bethel. River Street," he says. "Where in Bethel do you live?"
"I live at my parents," I say, "John Gifford," remembering that Walter used to work with my father years ago at Sears.
"Oh, sorry I didn't place you," he apologizes. "So, how do you two know each other?" And, there it is...the moment I explain Joan. I could just answer friend, because that is true. But I give the answer that is most obvious and also makes Walter raise an eyebrow. "She's my pugs' breeder," I say.
"You don't know what images that conjures," he says.
"I went looking for a pug 15 years ago. I met her and we've been friends every since," I elaborate. That is the truth, but it leaves out so much. A trip out west stuffed into a van with three other passengers and Joan's tales of her life to keep us awake as we drive through the desert. Heading into a hurricane to travel to pug nationals, getting quarantined at another pug nationals because of a virus that spread through the attendees, births and deaths. Staying up all night trying to keep a litter of puppies alive by feeding them goat's milk and when all seemed lost, Vodka. Losing them anyway. Aggravation, laughter, adventure. Driving all night half awake to arrive at a Dunkin Donuts only to have Joan bring out stale, dried up biscuit for us to share -- "I brought some dried biscuits," she announced. "And, I erupted in a spiel of contagious laughter that she caught and left us clenching our bellies as we guffawed through the night. Joan is old enough to be my mother and yet we are the best of friends -- kindred spirits in many ways -- not least of which is the fact that she is only person I know who I can call anytime of night just to chat or tell her the cute thing your dog has done.
Waffles Taking Her Medicine
Waffles seems to be feeling better, but as I shared with someone today, it must be a miracle because most of the antibiotic ends up on me instead of in her mouth. It's cherry flavored and the vet assured me that she would like it. My vet is excellent and in deference to her reputation, she was right. Waffles loves the medicine, but she does not like the syringe. So, if I can get the stuff past her teeth she laps it up happily, even licking it off my hand and clothes when it spills, but she does not like the syringe coming toward her mouth. It's a wee bit of a happy battle as she shakes and spills than laps and licks.