La Joie de Vivre

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Cole is a very energetic four-year-old Akita/Shepherd mix. My son adopted him from a shelter when he was about a year and a half old. Cole’s energy level hasn’t diminished a bit since his puppy days. He has a certain zest for life that is evident when you put him on a leash and he pulls you out of the house. It’s always a pleasure when Cole takes you for a walk!

Recently, I had the delight of accompanying Cole to the groomer’s. He bounded for the car and sat in the backseat with his head out the sunroof. Cole loves the wind blowing against his face when he rides in the car. Because my car is smaller, the sunroof works best for him. The road crews always enjoy it when Cole passes by them in my car!

When we arrived at our destination, Cole was beside himself with glee and could not wait to get out of the car. I somehow managed to wiggle out with him still on the leash as he pulled me in the direction of people. Cole wanted to greet everyone and tell them just how happy he was to be alive!

Once inside, Cole jumped up to be face to face with the groomer and tell her personally how happy he was to see her. The tail was wagging fiercely at this point. Cole simply could not contain himself. I waved goodbye as he trotted to the back room, groomer in tow.

When I went later that day to retrieve Cole, the groomer gushed that Cole was just so happy to do everything. He greeted everyone who came to the puppy salon, wagged the tail with gusto, and was in general elated with everything. When Cole came out, all clean and smelling wonderfully, he just could not wait to tell me what a great time he had had. He jumped up so that we were face to face and gave me a big, sloppy lick! Then he pulled me outside to the car, ready to stick his head out the sunroof for the glorious ride home!

Cole has taught me to find the joy in everything life has to offer. No need to sweat the small stuff, just bask in the glory of being alive, and make sure the windows (or the sunroof) are open!

This blogpost appeared as my column, "The Empty Nest," in the Frederick News Post on Sunday August 11, 2013.

Well-rested, well-tested

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with our dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Belle is a five year old tri-color beagle who is somewhat spoiled. No, let me re-phrase that, very spoiled. She came into our lives when she was about ten weeks old and very rapidly became our baby. When you ask my children who is their parents’ favorite child, they will reply in unison, “the dog!” Belle travels with us as often as she can and knows that going through a drive-through window means snacks! Her two favorites are McDonald’s and the bank!

Belle has taught me the importance of being well-rested. She can sleep anywhere! After her morning jaunt around the neighborhood, she is in need of a nap. Usually she lies behind the chair next to mine in the family room, but sometimes she hops up on the sofa. The heavy breathing starts a few minutes after she has settled down. The snoring begins not long after that. There’s almost always a late morning catnap followed by her afternoon siesta.

The problem with her sleeping is that Belle snores louder than any human! For her relatively small size, she puts out a big sound that has become progressively louder the older she gets. If Belle decides to take an afternoon nap upstairs in the bedroom, I can hear her snoring in the kitchen. One afternoon, I could not find her. I called and called to no avail. Then I listened, and sure enough I could hear that infamous snore! Snoring is a common sound at our house because Belle’s rest is essential to her good living.

Belle thinks that she is human and as such, she should sleep in a bed with humans. Whenever I’m interviewing a potential house-sitter, the first question is “how do you feel about sleeping with a snoring dog?” Those who answer “it’s no big deal” are usually hired! Because Belle sleeps with us every night –burrowed underneath the bedspread and sheets-I deal with the snoring on a regular basis. There have even been nights when the shaking of the bed from this little dog’s snoring has wakened me!

I have indeed learned from Belle how important good rest is, so I have resorted to sleeping with earplugs. It does help to deaden the sound and I usually sleep fairly well. I have also learned that napping when possible helps one to get through the busiest of days. So when I read about the essential eight hours of sleep for good health, all I can say is I’m trying!

There's No Place Like Home

While we are in the midst of the dog days of summer, I have been thinking about the dogs in my life. I have three: our bouncing beagle Belle, and my two rescued granddogs, Turner and Cole. I include Turner and Cole because my husband and I do a lot of puppysitting so we spend a fair amount of time with them. Time spent with dogs means lessons learned, and I have learned something from each of these special creatures.

Turner is an eight-year-old mix of everything. My daughter adopted him from a no-kill shelter when he was about eight months old. Turner at some point in his younger days had been abused and to this day, he is afraid of pretty much everything. He puts on a brave face when needed, but for the most part, he lives in fear. Turner is a loveable, huggable big old guy. He’s good for a bit of conversation as he loves to talk, and he likes to be the center of the conversation.

So Turner is also a stay-at-home kind of guy which is unusual because he has traveled so much. Although adopted in West Virginia, Maryland was home for a while. Turner loved Maryland. He enjoyed our backyard and rides on the boat, but the family room was always his favorite spot, a nice comfortable corner on the rug. Turner loved evenings at home with the entire family seated around him. Life circumstances have, however, pushed Turner outside of his comfort zone, and he has become a traveling pooch.

Turner traveled to North Carolina to visit family. He enjoyed rest stops along the way where he met people from all over. Connecticut was a favorite place for Turner. We spent some time along the river in Niantic where he took pleasure in walking along the beach. He loved Baltimore and was even the “musical chairs” champ two years in a row at the American Visionary Arts Museum’s Pet Parade.

But Turner’s real travel experiences began after my daughter married and she and Turner moved to the Netherlands. He didn’t really appreciate flying but acclimated well to the Dutch lifestyle and living in a city. Turner has traveled to France, Belgium and throughout the Netherlands. He has run along the beach and stayed in hotels. He is a rather well-traveled canine.

Turner has voyaged by plane, boat, train, and even jogged along side his “parents” as they cycle through the cities of the Netherlands. He takes the bus when the family ventures to the city center. Let’s face it, Turner gets around!

But Turner is happiest at home, surrounded by those he loves. He has a special carpet in the living room that we refer to as his “island.” He’s most comfortable there. You can see it in his face. Turner has taught me that you can travel all around the world, but there really is “no place like home!”

When In Rome

This blogpost appeared as my July column "The Empty Nest" in the Frederick News Post.

Summer is here and that means it’s vacation time! While we haven’t had a family vacation for a while, there were many that taught this family about travel. One trip to California taught my son that if you travel to a far off place, you must experience what your destination has to offer you.

We spend a lot of time at baseball parks. It’s a passion of my son. Many years ago, the Frederick Keys had a Blockbuster Video contest during each game. Timmy entered the contest at every game we attended, but he never won. In early September that year, we received a telephone call and were told that Timmy had won the Blockbuster grand prize-a trip to California! The woman on the phone quickly informed us that the trip included hotel accommodations and a few other perks, but that airfare to California was not included. With an airline employee in the family, this was not a concern for us. We would use my husband’s employee flight benefits.

So we began planning our mini vacation to California. On the top of my son’s list of things to do was to ride the new Jurassic Park ride that had just opened up at Universal Studios in Los Angeles. He had seen commercials on TV and was elated to have the opportunity to finally go there. It was all he talked about for the weeks leading up to the trip.

When we arrived in California, Timmy was ready to head directly to the amusement park. It was all that we could do to convince him to wait until the next day. Early that morning, he woke ready to go. At the park when the gates opened, we headed directly to the Jurassic Park area for the ride he so wanted to experience.

His pace slowed as we neared the large dinosaurs. The jungle sounds were all around us and things began to feel a little eerie. You could almost sense an imminent dinosaur attack. Then my son stopped dead in his tracks. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he said. He started to list the dangers of amusement park rides. Perhaps it would be best for our safety if we skipped the ride and just strolled around the park.

I sat my son down on a nearby bench and told him about how he had waited for months to ride, how it was the only thing he could talk about, and how we had traveled so far to experience this one particular ride. And then I became the evil mother. I forced my son to get back in the line and ride that ride. I held his hand the entire time and tried to convince him that it would be all right.

We rode the ride, we went to Rome and did like the Romans. I’m not sure he forgave me, but I think somewhere deep inside he was glad we did.