Just keep going, just keep going

Wow. I am just...
Wow.
January and February slipped away from me.
Okay, March did, too.

I feel like I'm in some sort of dream where time is running out and there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything that needs to get done.
Except it's not a dream.
It's life.

Unfortunately, I am no expert a gifts such as "perspective" and "keeping one's cool".
And so my head is spinning, and my heart is racing. And time won't stop for me

so I've got to find a way to keep up.

I finally breathed a breath of relief around 4:30 this afternoon. I don't know who needed a romp around more, Drake or myself. But we both seem relieved after a few minutes of playing ball in the yard.

He holds nothing against me. He is patient and forgiving. He is resilient and playful.

Lord, may I be more like my dog tomorrow.

A week in the life of Drake Dog

Sunday: A sunny nap. It's exhausting watching all of those birds.  

Monday: Mom gets to spend the next 30 minutes pulling burrs out of my tail.

Tuesday: A tough early morning decision. 

 

Wednesday: Tucking mom into bed.  I stay up with dad and watch basketball. 

 

Thursday: Do you have to go to work mom? 

 

Friday: Where are we going? 

 

Saturday: Having fun in Stowe.

lost and found

Yesterday the first treasure of spring was uncovered. The fifty degree temperatures and ample sunshine unearthed a tennis ball. Gone but not forgotten since the December snows rolled in and didn't stop until, well likely May.
Spring in Vermont with a golden retriever is a tango. You have got to be quick and on your toes or else you soon find a muddy crime scene turning circles around your house. Or tiny apartment. But tiny apartments can get muddy too. And so here we are. Brown footprints sink so deep into the floors I abolish the thought of mopping altogether. What would be the point?
The backyard is a soupy mess of melting snow and thawing grass. A river, that was not there yesterday morning, blazes a chocolate stream from under the pine tree. His favorite place to sniff.
But spring with a goldie also means longer outside runs followed by hours and lollygagging in the sunny patch by the door. Watching the birds peck at the softening ground. Waiting for the horse to return to the field and the surefire signs that we are hearty Vermonters now. And we have made it through.
Mud season and all.

A good ole' romp

This time last winter my heart was heavy. It was the winter blues I tell you, the winter blues.

But I have found my medicine.

Why are you throwing snow on my head?

Sometimes I wonder what Drake would say if he could talk.

Today I think he would have asked me why I was throwing shovels-full of snow at him.

I can't help but be sad about where he might have been this time last year. As I deck the halls, the walls, the windows, doors, his crate... I wonder if he was out in the frosty wide open. Struggling to stay alive. Or maybe he was in a mansion in Nashville. With little kids swinging from his floppy ears. I will never know. But now he's here. unamused by being buried in snow, getting it caught in his paws, me trying to get him to eat it.

There are just some things I can't do for him. "Butter will have to teach you how to play in the snow" I told him.

But can she teach him this?

tricks

It is nice to have a minute to catch a breath.
I haven't had a minute to catch my breath in days.
Weeks?
No. Maybe two months.
Even weekends have been filled to the brim.

Drakey wagged his tail all morning, through his unusual mid-week daylight in the morning run, and gave me a dirty look when I went to get dressed.
He is smart,
I think as I walk to the pet store to buy him some bling.

I strike up a conversation with the owner of the store.
You should bring him in! She says.
I go on to tell her that while he does have a tendency to eat other dogs,
he is smart.

In my head I am thinking... because he doesn't pee in the house while I'm at work.
And he knows the difference between a weekend and a weekday morning.
Oh, and he can sit, and lie down, and stuff.

She tells me about her customer who has a golden,
who can read.
The dog can read.

I go home with a new enormous rope-and-ball contraption, and my head hung low.
Some genius I've got.

And then, he surprises me again.

He has taught his turtle to sit.

I breathe a sigh of relief.
He is smart.

cookies

Ran into a little trouble adding the flour.

Don't fret.

Drakey licked it up.

woah baby

Today was a rough day to be Drakeson Murphy. And when it's a rough day for your dog, well my friends, it's a rough day for you, too.
It all started with a run we went on Saturday morning. It was awesome! The longest one the pooch and I have gone on together. Which means, sadly, the longest run I've been on since we got him. Which is, sadly, not even as many miles as fingers on one hand.
Oh alright, anyway. Drake-Murphdog could run forever in this weather. So sometimes (especially up a hill) I yell "MUSH" like he is a husky running the ice-roads of Alaska and implore him to pull me faster!faster! up the hill.

All's not well that ends in this perma-limp I've had since I pretended to be Sarah Palin on her new TLC series.

Which's brings Ddog and I to a hobble of a run this morning in the 5:30 darkness. But also, isn't it supposed to be a little bit lighter in the morning? I forget every year how this all goes down. Dog did not appreciate the abbreviated hobble and refused to wag his tail for the rest of the morning (he hates Mondays).

After a sleeting drive home I rescue Murphdog and attempt to video-capture his maiden voyage into the snowy yonder. Psssht, please. He's seen it all before and was far less excited than I had anticipated. The only thing that really excited him was nibbling on other dogs' frozen poops. Which is when his bad day really took a turn for the worse. Woah baby did I tell him I was mad at him! My dog-whispering abilities tell me that this is what snow makes him think of... surviving on frosty terds in wild. Well let me tell you how much longer that will last.

Not much.

I hope.

Ddog and I were hardly on speaking terms when we got back to the house. Only long enough for me to brush his teeth and feed him peanut butter so his breath didn't smell like... well.

We sat in silence while I did some research on chameleons and seahorses so when pops got home we jumped at the chance for the Drake to go for another walk.

Well if he didn't come back with burrs from one end of his tail to the other than I just don't know what.

We spent the next hour picking them out. Woah baby does he hate anything going on near his tail!

My poor pup. He really doesn't care for Mondays (through Fridays) and I feel a bit helpless about it all. Not helpless enough to let him delight in eating feces, but you know, helpless. This winter weather has us dreaming of our summer days together when we frolicked for hours on end and ran often enough not to get gait-altering injuries. I just hope I'm doing right by him. There have been several e-posts on a community bulletin board lately about a family who's Tennessee-rescued pooch that they've had for a few weeks ran off and has anyone seen him. My heart has ached each time. I've seen these messages for a few weeks now and this morning there was, what might be, the final note. About a dog- that matched the description, having been spotted, lifeless, on the side of the highway. I looked at my Drake. With whom I have already been through a bundle of highs and lows. And I counted my blessings for each opportunity I have had to live his life with him.

And it gets me thinking.

Maybe the bad days aren't so bad afterall.

Right here, actually.

For some reason or other, I have had a million things on my mind lately.
After a 12 hour day, I came home and cut out construction paper pumpkins for 30 minutes. Then I cut out orange strips. Tomorrow, we'll make pumpkins.
Then I stewed for a few minutes about the parent-teacher (+principal for backup) meeting I had today. I thought I should write my principal an email about the thing I was stewing about before I forgot what it is that had me stewing so hard. But I figured if it was bad enough to stew on I would remember it and if I didn't in the morning then one less gray hair for me.
Then I looked at the pooch. He had been slapping me (he's a slapper) with his big hairy paws all night. I had pushed him away. Because even though he was by himself for 11 hours, I had pumpkins to cut, and stew to make.
On my way to the computer I decided to give Drake a minute of my time. So kind, I know. I laid down on his bed, and he snuggled right into me. I am often the one to break these moments. Got to keep moving, got to do this. Oh, and that. But tonight, he put his paws up on my side, and his chin down. And I thought of a question I ask my students all day long... "Where should you be right now?" As in, not inside your locker, or walking backwards down the hallway, or getting a drink without asking.
And I imagined someone asking me that question.

And I took a deep breath.
And Drake snuggled in.
And I knew.
Right here.
Actually.
I'm exactly where I should be.

Fill me up

I am not a mother like you are.
(Have I said this before?)
I have no human baby.
I am not stashing away my pennies for college tuition.

But my boy gave me a hug tonight.
A real hug the best way he knows how.
And my heart melted.

He often slaps his paw onto my shoulder
or across my legs.
A possessive teenager. Hey ma.

Oh but tonight, he gave me the hug
of a little boy in love with his mom.
Before he knows that other girls exist.

He put his arm over mine
and his cheek next to mine
and I sat there wishing that someone would come catch us in our hug.

In that moment I felt like he was telling me
he will never get sick again,
or tinkle on the couch.
That he will never run away from us
or hurt another dog.

Of course the moment passed.
Something caught his attention,
and as quickly as he was entwined around me
off he went.

I am not a mother like you are,
but at the end of the day
a hug is a hug.

And his love fills me up again.

An Emergency Revelation

I know
that the Good Lord only gives you what you can handle.

I know
that you all know that, too.

I know
that 4 years ago when Rosie got sick
and she went to the vet
for her final hours
I should have been there.
But I couldn't be there.
Because I didn't want to see her like that.
I wanted to remember her running, licking, hugging.
I didn't want my last picture of her, in my head,
to be her sick
hurting
dying.

I know
that when I cried my tears into Drake's fur today
they were tears for him
and her.
They were tears that I should have let drop onto her body
so that she knew I was with her
and that I loved her
and that she would always
always
be my girl.

I know
that as I watched my dog today
I thought of what it would have been like to be with Rosie
as she breathed her final breaths
and looked up to the faces of my mom
and sisters to say her sweet goodbye.
Maybe searching for mine.
I thought about her feet on the cold floor
and his.
I thought
please God.
Not again.
Please don't take my dog from me.

I know
that He listened.
And He is kind.
And he will always, only, give me what I can handle.
Even when
I don't know
what that is.

I know
that Drake has been saved
again.
And that I am probably,
after some thought,
not the one who is saving him
at all.

daily musings

I have very little going on.
Is that the case often?
Hm.
Well, just as to keep up the appearance of being a person with things going on, I'll recap some peaks from the day.
But really, if YOU have things going on, the highlights might seem like lowlights.
Even though my REAL highlights are looking fabulous.
T how are yours?

Oh, right. My day.
I'll go backwards because I don't quite yet remember what happened this morning.

Have you noticed that all the things to eat and drink that keep you cool in the summer are bad for you?
My chins have noticed.




Some hippie from down the road just stopped Drake and I on our walk to ask if I am training him for anything in particular, like Guiding Eyes, because they see us walking all the time. I suddenly got that feeling that I take myself too seriously. When I told her the REAL 411 she offered up their communal hippie dog as a sacrifice. I said no.
I should have said yes.
On a similar note, last week Drake and I were stopped by a sketchy couple asking if he was a "stud" because they have a female.
Ew.


(But yeah, total stud.)

How do you weed in the garden without sitting on some of the plants?
Or is that what makes them grow?
"Sit on my LEAF and tell me that you love me".



Drakester got another homemade haircut today.
He's only got one chunk out of his side.
Stud.


(hair pattie! gag!)

Quite frankly it's a wonder I've done anything at all.
It's so scorchin'!
Maybe tomorrow I'll splash around in the new Wal-Mart pool.
The pooch doesn't like it,
no sense in it going to waste.

Dear Butter,

One week ago, we met in an open field.
You let me bite you.
Twice.

My mom cried.
Defeated.
She thought I was a hopeless case.

But your mom,
she believed in me.
She knew I could do it.

So we mingled.
And we played.
You let me bite you again.

But now you are my friend.
I will follow you
and watch what you do.

I had forgotten how to be a pet,
and how to play.
You believed in me, too.



I'll try not to bite you again.

Love,
Drake

Save me, too

I suppose it was no surprise to me when I looked in the mirror tonight and saw a zit on my chin.

Because when I tried to corral 25 kindergarten students on the last day of school aka "Fun Day" with their parents lurking in the not-so-far-outskirts it did not go quite as smoothly as I had planned. If I had planned for 24(which I did), instead of 25 (which I didn't), on the one-of-the-last-days-of-school (which I did), instead of the last (which I didn't) it could have gone better.
But, alas...

Get to work. Blah, blah, blah.

By the time I picked up the pooch I was feeling ready for a walk. This was set back a few minutes when the gal informed me "face eater" showed up at daycare today.

"TAKE NO PRISONERS" he mouthed, right into another dog.
Chomp!
What's a gal to do? I cried, of course!
But, but... but. He's so... good.
Right?
Emotions were high.
There are people, he will learn, it's the hormones, don't give up, make it work.
We walked. A man came up behind us.
Heart raced.... please don't have a dog.
No dogs allowed.
Oh. We're gone.
Another place.
Dog.
Turn around.
Dog.
Cut across the field.
Phew.
Now I am the threat. Dog, dodge, dog, panic, dog, HELP!

I get to the grocery store and bee-line to the chip aisle. As chip-people go, I am not one. It just seemed right. The stress! Oh, and 2 for $4 Tootsie Rolls?
Well... I am my mother's daughter.

Drive home finds me thinking,
so maybe he's just not my dog. I tried,
he bit.
There will be others.

When we get there
he is perfect.
He always is.
Ah, yes, my dog.

Talk with Eric my mouth blurts "If he needs to be saved,
I want us to be the ones to do it."
What is that?
Ah yes, I am my mother's daughter.

I want to be the one who saves him.
His story,
he is telling it.
It is so sad.

I want to be the one who saves him.

deeohgee

Meet the newest dog in your life.
His name is Drake.
He is VERY handsome.







See?

He likes to rest and work and rest.




Sometimes he likes dogs,
(he's the cute one on the right)



and sometimes he tries to eat their faces off
(haven't been able to capture this shot yet).

Sometimes he is naughty and only sits when we give him pup-peroni.



But then I think about him being alone in the woods at night in Tennessee.
And I feel like I should cut him a break from time to time.



The

End.