Animal House

I was going to just do an "Update" to the previous post, but the story of getting Dutchie settled in is too funny not to be given it's own post.

This is "Dutchie," the sweetest Boston Terrier I've ever met (okay, she's the only BT I've ever met, but she's setting a good example).

Crappy cell phone pic of cuddly L'il Dutchie

Brad brought her over just a little bit ago, and for a few minutes it was dog mania hilarity: picture two dogs on leashes, the bigger one standing stoically while the little one ran circles around him and the legs of the two humans. At one point I was caught in the middle of the tangle of leash lines and tried to step over them so we wouldn't have to play London Bridge again, but Brad did a little sidestep at the same time, which nearly resulted in very painful experience for him. I apologized for nearly kneeing him in the family jewels, then tried not to burst out laughing as he leaned around me trying to keep himself from getting caught in the crazy tangle.
"I'm sorry!" I gasped, to which he replied, "we're a mess!"

We finally got everybody untangled, and Brad took off to get to the airport. As for the rest of us, Dutchie is sleeping next to me on the couch, Shadow is resting nearby, and Bootsie and Spitter are hiding in the "office room" and may not resurface till bedtime (I use quotes because it's really just a storage space right now).

Brad has been in contact with a woman who offered to take Dutchie if her owners don't show up in several days. I don't want to give Dutchie up to hastily in case her owners are out of town or something, but at the same time 4 animals and 1 me is not the best ratio! Maybe the woman who offered to take Dutchie would agree to be a second doggie fostermama, with the option to adopt if the owners still aren't found after a while.

My family is supposed to come over for dinner this weekend...I'm tempted to put a sign on the door that says "Welcome to the Animal House: Enter at your own risk!"

The dog days of summer

At one point in time I operated what basically amounted to a home-based kitty hospice.

Now I have apparently switched businesses to some sort of canine halfway house for foster dogs and runaways.

One the same night I got Shadow back (Wednesday), I was asked by a shar pei rescue group if I knew anyone who could house a shelter dog for a day (Thursday), until transportation arrangements could be made to send the dog to its new owner in CO. I wanted to take the dog myself as a pay-it-forward sort of thing, but I wasn't sure how Shadow would react to having another dog around after the stress of his ordeal. Since it was such short notice I wasn't able to ask around as much as I wanted to, and there was no news on him today so I don't know the ultimate fate of that pup.

But the universe seems to be determined to take me up on that pay-it-forward business: yesterday afternoon I discovered that my mom's friend, Brad, had found a stray dog the night before; he had been out walking his own dog when "Dutchie" (the name my mom randomly gave the runaway) came flying up the sidewalk, friendly as can be, but with no collar and no owners chasing after her.
Given that I just went through the Lost/Found Pet ordeal with Shadow, and am a frequent pet-sitter for Brad's dogs, Brad enlisted my help to find this pup's owners. He took her to the vet to check for a microchip first thing, no such luck. Then he printed out some Found Dog flyers and we drove around posting them in his neighhorhood. The pup is a small breed (boston terrier) who is clearly well-fed, so hopefully she didn't get very far from home.
Brad has to fly to Australia on a business trip today, so if "Dutchie's" owners aren't found by the time he has to leave for the airport I agreed to take "Dutchie" for a little while, in the hopes that her owners will come looking for her. If they don't, Brad wants to take her to a Boston Terrier rescue group. Neither of us can stomach taking her to a shelter...she's such a sweetheart, and AZ shelters are heartbreakingly awful.

I can't believe that in less than a week I, the quintessential cat lady, have become the temporary foster petmama of 2 wayward dogs. What am I getting myself into?

My kitty babies have been largely avoiding Shadow since his return...let's see what they do with a dog who is their own size! Shadow and "Dutchie" met yesterday afternoon (Brad brought her over and we kept both dogs on short leashes) and they seemed to get along fine, but I will probably keep them separated if I can't be around to supervise.

I really must say, it  sure seems like my life has gone to the dogs these days (literally!).

There's a Shadow in the house!



Well. So, Shadow went on quite an adventure barely an hour after arriving at my house on Saturday evening. He slipped his collar during a walk around my neighborhood, and though two young boys, a friendly father and his 8 year old daughter, my own dad and brother, and I chased him around the neighborhood for hours, we were unable to catch him. When the sun went down and we lost sight of him, I admitted defeat for the night and went home completely crushed.

 

I don't feel like rehashing Shadow's ensuing "adventure" (or in my case, gut-punching ordeal) in detail here on the blog, but I do intend to write the whole thing out, especially the end when things got good. The important thing to know is, Shadow is back safe and sound, thanks to the above-and-beyond efforts of lots of people. From Sunday through Tuesday my days were spent communicating with an incredible network of dog lovers, all of them strangers who heard about my lost dog situation from the various alerts and notifications I posted on the internet (I never even got the chance to put up my paper posters, of which I had printed over 50...but I ain't complaining!).

On Wednesday afternoon I got Shadow back and found a new hero. A good samaritan named Steve chased Shadow ON FOOT after he, two young women, and my dad helped me track him by car nearly 5 miles away from where he had first disappeared...I will never know how Steve managed to get the choke chain around his neck, because I was still in my car, idling helplessly in the parking lot Shadow had disappeared into, while Steve pounded the asphalt with a speed that (in my opinion) is worthy of the Olympics. I can only guess how he managed to wrangle Shadow, but whatever he did, I say he should join a rodeo if the Olympics don't work out.

 

The important thing is, Shadow is back, he's unhurt, and he's safe. He walked back into the house (on a leash!) yesterday just two hours shy of exactly 4 days (96 hours) from the time he left it (on a leash). It was probably the longest walk he's ever been on in his 5-ish years of life...and he's not going on any more while he's here with me! He'll have to settle for exploring my nice and secure backyard. Last night when we went out for our nighttime potty break, he lifted his face in the air and sniffed and sniffed...I wonder if he could still smell traces of his adventure in the neighborhood, or if he was just glad that he wasn't smelling hot asphalt and car exhaust anymore!

After taking a nice big drink of fresh water

Several people who know the full story have put in their two cents: "Meryl, you have to write the whole story." "Meryl, you know you could get that published, right?" "Meryl, make sure you record every detail of your experience, it's gonna be a novel someday."

This story is definitely one for the books, so look for it on the shelves in the probably-still-pretty-distant future! In the meantime, I know a boy who's gonna need a lot of rest. As for me, I'm  just happy that my days will no longer consist of continually refreshing my browser on every Found Dog listing on Craigslist and beyond, and hopefully now my phone will stop ringing every 5 minutes! Speaking of which, I guess I better change my voicemail so it no longer talks about a lost dog.

And of course a HUGE "Thank You" goes out to Steve, Lindsay, Lisa, Jere, G.G., Dennis, and everyone else whose names I either never got or just couldn't hold on to in the rush of events that made it possible to bring Shadow home. Every single one of them made it possible for Shadow to be found, and I am eternally grateful. And I am so deeply humbled by the fact that they all acted out of the kindness and goodness of their own hearts; if anything good can come out of a lost pet, it's being able to witness a community of strangers coming together purely out of love for the animal. If every action taken, word spoken, and deed accomplished had that much love infused within it, we'd live in a completely different world. Don't you agree?



Sleeping off his wild adventure

My (totally random) inheritance

Today I learned that on Saturday I'm inheriting a bed, a table, and a dog.

The dog is a temporary foster placement and will likely be here for several weeks. I come by my propensity for doggie and kitty foster parenting very honestly. My family has a history of taking in wayward animals...on my count we inherited no fewer than 9 cats and 5 dogs throughout my childhood and adolescence (not all at once!). I'm pretty sure that only one cat and one dog were actually purchased, and all the others came to us from off the streets or were brought to us by people who knew we would care for them. Spitter was supposed to be a temporary foster, but I ended up keeping her because we bonded so strongly; Bootsie actually kind of adopted me (as in, she showed up one night and never left).

This new doggie, Shadow, will be my first foster pup since moving into my little house. He is coming to me by way of my dear friend Karen, whose son (Shadow's owner) travels for weeks at a time for his job and can't always give Shadow the time and attention he needs. Karen is in her sixties-ish, still works full time and can't care for the dog herself, so she asked me today if I would be willing to take him until her son gets back or a new a permanent new home is found. I said yes (obviously).
Spitter and Bootsie are very territorial and are going to flip their freakin' lids over the presence of a dog, so I'm going to make sure that Shadow is 100% cat friendly before I let them socialize. This is going to be an adventure, I'm sure!

As for the bed, I currently have a queen-sized bed, which is slightly too big for my bedroom (I have maybe 2 feet of space left to move around in). As luck would have it, Karen happens to have a twin bed that's currently gathering dust in her garage. She not only offered to include the bed in Saturday's doggie delivery, she asked me what else I needed and tried to get me to take a desk! I love her, haha. I doubt Spitter or Bootsie will miss having the extra space of the queen, since their preferred sleeping arrangement involves taking up as much of my personal space as possible. Now I just have to figure out how to dismantle the metal bedframe of the queen.

Karen is not providing the table, but I'm sure if she had one she'd try to convince me to take it, too! The table is originally from Ikea, but I'm getting it for more than half-off on Craigslist. Woo hoo!

 I'm picking up the table at 1pm, the bed and dog are expected to arrive around 4pm. What a day that's going to be!

Falling out of summer!

Happy September 1st!!!

To me, September heralds the giddy anticipation of good things to come as we begin to approach the end of the year:

*Cooler temperatures as we finally begin the downward slope out of summer!
*The first day of fall (September 22)
*The traditional joint-celebration for my and my mom's birthdays (which are 8 days apart)
*Heaps of Thanksgiving mashed potatoes
*My younger brother's birthday
*The first day of winter (December 21)
*24/7 Christmas music (everything having to do with the Christmas season, really).

I wish I could add the impending beauty of colorful autumn foliage and Winter Wonderlands to my list, but I have to drive 2 hours north if I want those. You can bet I'll be making that trip, hopefully a handful of times!

Happy Start of the Best Part of the Year!!!

Not Just Spring Cleaning

Since moving into my little house in February (I'm renting from some friends who live out of state), I have rearranged my main room several times...I'd say at least once a month. I'm talking entire pieces of furniture moved to different walls, and I did it all myself (well, except when my front door had to come off to get my "new" (used) couch inside...I had some manpower help for that haha).

I don't have any pictures to post, because I keep changing stuff around, but once I achieve the feng shui I'm looking for I'll reveal the final product. I haven't let anyone except family see my little house, because it's become very important to me that my house have the right  feel before I start inviting people over. I don't really know when that started, because when I first moved in I was really excited to have a housewarming party. I suppose it's because I moved in the middle of my last semester of grad school, and I was too busy to focus on putting my house together for the first 3 months I lived in it. Furniture was just kind of placed willy-nilly or in a "temporary location," and then every surface was quickly overtaken by textbooks, notebooks, papers, and writing utensils.

When I graduated in May, I took a good look at my living space and was flabbergasted to see how disorganized everything was, and how un-home-like it felt as a result. Now, I'm not a particularly organized person as it is (I can't keep my car or my room clean to save my life!), but I am a master at maintaining "organized chaos." Things may not always be where they "should be," but I always usually know where things are. In fact, well-meaning people (mom) who try to put things "where they belong" frustrate me to no end, because then I can't find anything because it's not where I put it!

But there's a fine line beteween manageable disorganization and total chaos, and for several months I teetered over the edge of the latter. Over the last several weeks, however, I have reached more of a middle ground, and I'm working my way toward the more liveable side of the line.

Once I've regained control of all the furniture that's already in my house (most of which are hand-me-downs from the house I grew up in), I'm super excited to start adding little touches that reflect my own personality and style. I browse and window shop all the time, and I've got my eye on items I found in Pier 1, Home Goods, Cost Plus World Market, and even Changing Hands bookstore in Tempe (along with the great selection of books, the store has lots of decorative knick-knacky things that I absolutely swooned over when I was there last week).

The style I'll be going for is "country cottage chic"...I've always said that I'm a big city girl with a small town heart, and my impending interior-decorating project is certain to reflect that!

"Meowy Christmas!"

From Meryl, Spitter, and Bootsie

Stop monkey-ing around

The other day I was talking with my dear friend Kelly, and she mentioned something about not always enjoying talking to grown-ups.

I responded with, "we are grown-ups, darlin'."

Kelly's retort was a Golden Truth: "Well, it sure doesn't feel like it."

From there we launched into a conversation about my impending "quarter-of-a-century life crisis" birthday. My 25th. Which is in September.

Kelly and I have been friends for 13 years. We were mischievous, dorky sixth graders together...and when we hang out nowadays it's hard not to forget that we're that much older. Because we don't feel all that much wiser.

 

Weary, sure. But wise? You tell me:

I didn't think so, haha.

Kelly has a fancy-pants job at a nice hotel. I'm about to start graduate school so I can add a few fancy-pants letters to the end of my professional job title.

In sixth grade Kelly and I frequently ditched class in the afternoon in favor of doing flips off the monkey bars or mentoring the K-1-2 kids a few corridors down. I worked hard on my homework, but I played harder.

These days I'm working so hard to keep up with everything, I have hardly any time to play at all. I know that any "monkey" business in the MSW program will get me "terminated" from the program (as they say over there).

I know what you're going to say: "it's all part of being a grown-up."

Ok, fine. So then when am I going to start feeling like this grown up I have supposedly become?
Tell me, those of you who have been doing this "grown up" thing longer than I have...did you feel this way when you were my age? Do you still feel this way?

Do we ever really "grow up," or do we just learn to exhibit "business hours behavior" until the bell rings (or the clock chimes) and "happy hour" begins?

 

Ugh. It's tiring, trying to to navigate my way through the Land of Being a Grown-Up. I don't feel remotely ready to be making this journey. But here I am. Here we all are, or must eventually be.

One of the hardest adjustments I've had to make since arriving in the Land of Being a Grown-Up is convincing my night-owl personality to spend a decent amount of time in the distant Land of Nod.
Recently my dad and I discussed this unpromising proposition:

Dad: "So no sleeping in tomorrow?" (referring to the fact that this is the week I've had to start being downtown by 8am)
Me: "No, I don't think I'll be sleeping in for-"
Dad: "The rest of your life?"
Me: "-the rest of my life. Yeah."

I guess the only bell I can look forward to hearing for the next 40 years is the one on my alarm clock!

That is, until the bell chimes at the end of the work day, and all the monkeys come out of the barrel (or out of the desk chair) ready to play!

"That is whack!"

If you think about it, we live in a pretty backwards society. We seem to have forgotten what's truly important. I did some research on annual salaries, and what I discovered astounded and appalled me:

Teacher: $40,000

What they do: Act as academic, social, and emotional mentors. Encourage learning.

NFL athletic coach: $85,000

What they do: Induce unhealthy competitiveness. Create sore losers.

Can someone please explain to me why the ability to kick a football is valued as more than twice as important as the acquisition of knowledge???

This one really gets me...

Social worker: $55,000

What they do: Provide social and emotional support. Act as advocates for the well-being of others.

"Reality TV" stars (Real Housewives, specifically): $1,500,000

What they do: Pick fights and act catty. Gossip and lie about others.

Those frickin' rich bitches are paid nearly THIRTY times more to behave badly towards others than I will be to help improve the quality of life for countless clients?? Excuse me?????

There is something so wrong with these numbers!!!!!

A Fairy Tale: The Not-So Classic version!

Once upon a time, there was a dog named Thor.

Thor likes to explore. One day, he decided that my bedroom would be a fun place for an adventure.

Thor came lolloping down the hallway, ready for some fun.

But when he got to my doorway, he paused.


What caused Thor to hesitate?
(can you see her? Look carefully!)

There was a TROLL under the BRIDGE!! ... I mean, a CAT under my BED!


Spitter: "Who's that galloping down the hallway? Why are you standing in my doorway?"

Thor: "I'm coming in to sniff around because I've never been in here before!"

 

Spitter: "Oh no you're not! Not until you pay the TROLL!...I mean the TOLL!"

Unfortunately, Thor didn't have any money... (or catnip)...

So he went somewhere Spitter never gets to go!

OUTSIDE!!!


Leaving Spitter inside with all her hard-earned troll (I mean toll) money.


"And they both lived (separately) happily ever after!"

THE END