Day Three Hundred Sixty Five!

I Did It!

If my calculations are correct, and there are still 365 days in a year - then this is it - my last entry in a yearlong project! If I had also committed to dieting throughout this year, I would be a slimmer version of me. I did not.

Here are some thoughts on the past year:

• Writing everyday was actually therapeutic for me. Granted, there were days when I was not in the best of moods - but I fudged - a lot. Ironically, those were the days when I thought my posts were the funniest.

• It made me become more observant of the life around me. In the beginning, because I needed to gain material, I forced myself to pay attention to the world outside my own head. Eventually, it became routine. I think I appreciate life more. And I definitely have a greater understanding of animal behavior (as well as misbehavior.)

Ok - so I made it up here, but how do I get down?
If I jump and land on that dog, he may eat me!
What made me think this was a good idea?

• For the first time in my life I practiced not sweating the small stuff and learned to look for the funny in those situations which a) drive one crazy b) make one angry and c) are initially a nuisance. 

For example: Boo! is especially "Aby-ish" in the mornings and late at night. I have learned to laugh at her antics. Hell no! - it isn't always easy. Like right now, she is the only one not napping after breakfast. Instead, she is going around to all of the food dishes and noisily cleaning up everyone's leftovers; trying to circumvent the Ssscat cans on either end of the terrarium by climbing straight up the front of the credenza; making as much noise as possible with a paper grocery bag - mainly because she is bored and wishes someone would wake up, or stop typing, and play with her. She will be harassing me shortly.

• Finally - I have developed a deeper understanding of happiness. I used to get so aggravated when people would say to me, "I just want you to be happy." Happiness was elusive. I thought life was far too serious for frivolity. People who could laugh at life often irritated me. Then people and circumstances in my life joined forces to give me two choices - laugh or end it all. I chose laughter. I give most of the credit to a few significant people in my life -

Family and friends who made me laugh in spite of myself; helped me to laugh when I wanted to cry; chose laughter instead of self pity. 

My children. They are, without a doubt, two of the funniest people on Earth. How a sourpuss like me managed to raise two comics is a mystery. They will say it's because I was actually funny but didn't realize it. I must have been a real cut-up when I was mad at them because that's when they laughed the most.

I asked my son how he could laugh at me when I'm so angry -
His response - because you look like Donald Duck.

It's also important to mention, my son is raising two budding comedians. There is a lot of laughter when we're all together.


Last but not least, my husband, Andy. - "We met when we were almost young." I was drawn to him because of his larger than life persona - and his ever present smile. I think over the years, some of my seriousness rubbed off on him, which is a shame. But he is a truly funny person - when I'm not raining on his parade - or adopting another animal.


I want to end this with one final thought - Don't let other people define who you are. When I was a child, I had a mother who kept telling me I wasn't good enough - but a father who said I could do anything I set my mind to. It was confusing. Guess which parent I believed and which parent I hated? If you let them, people can make or break you. Try not to give them that control. Be who you want to be - what you believe you are. Fake it till you make it.

The End

Day Three Hundred Sixty Four

New Pack Member

For security reasons, I try not to post names and pictures of my grandchildren - or anyone for that matter. I certainly don't need to provide material to those with ill intent. The photos I have posted are already public domain. I have also been careful to choose pictures that do not show all of a child's face. I wish the world wasn't this way, because I would love to post pictures of my family's newest "pack member "- my cousin's granddaughter!


Baby A was born a few weeks ago, about a month early. She was anxious to be in the world and meet her Mom and Dad. She's adorable - and being a bit of preemie means nothing to this little Warrior Princess. It's plain to see, she is a special little girl. I hope to meet her someday.

You see, all of my extended family members live in Pennsylvania. We were all busy, especially during the years when we were working and raising our children. That meant staying close, with a thousand miles between us, was sort of a challenge. It's one of my biggest regrets.

Thanks to the advent of social media, I have sort of made up for lost time by getting to know the children of my cousins. I know, they are second cousins. Which makes Baby A a third cousin? Is that right? I'm not a whiz when it comes to genealogy. All I know is, she's family.- and a member of our pack.

Now, A's parents have rescued quite a few animals. (Yes, it does run in the family.) They have five dogs and a cat. Anyway, they sent me the sweetest picture yesterday of one of their fur kids planting a big old kiss on A while she was sleeping on her daddy's lap.

That picture made me so happy because, most first time parents are understandably protective and focused on the new arrival. Sometimes, the fur babies aren't allowed near the newbie. However, studies have shown, children raised among dogs, cats and other animals benefit enormously from those relationships.

This poor baby doesn't have any fur!
We'll just have to keep her warm.

 

This is our baby, right Dad?

 

I'll teach you a high five when you're older.

 

Don't worry kid. I've got your back.

For example, they have fewer allergies than children in non-animal households. There is a study in the Journal of the American Medical Association on this subject. If you want to read the whole article it is posted on the CBS news website.

Some of the Study Findings

• Cat allergies: 15.5 percent of the children without a dog or cat in the home were allergic to cats, compared to 11.6 percent with one cat or dog and 7.7 percent with two or more pets in their home.
  
• Dog allergies: 8.6 percent of the children without a dog or cat in the home were allergic to dogs, compared to 3.5 percent with one cat or dog and 2.6 percent with two or more pets in their home.
  
• Atopy (positive test to any of several common allergens including cat, dog and grass): 33.6 percent of children were allergic without exposure to dogs or cats, compared to 15.4 percent allergic with regular exposure to two or more of the animals. The exception here was a slight increase in allergies - from 33.6 to 34.3 percent - for children exposed to only one dog or cat.

See, I'm not just about snarky comments and animal anecdotes. Sometimes I provide important information. Anyway, I doubt Baby A will have to worry about allergies or anyone trying to mess with her. She belongs to several "packs" now and they take care of each other.

Sleep tight, baby. We're here to keep you safe.

Day Three Hundred Sixty Three

How Not to Greet a Dog

Day kabillionth of having to walk the dogs. Jack woke me this morning to let me know the pool guys were here and, oh by the way, since I was up, he needed to pee. I dragged my sorry self out of bed, started the coffee and hitched him up for a walk. It is a lot like getting a horse saddled up for a ride.

Jack did his thing, then surprised me by wanting to take a walk. Okay. I hadn't had my coffee yet, and my eyes weren't fully open, but I'm familiar with the territory, so we walked. We had just passed the next door neighbor's driveway when I heard a voice behind me.

It was a guy who's been around here forever - a landscaper. I know him but I wasn't sure about Jack. The guy was undeterred. He asked if Jack was friendly then didn't even wait for my answer. He dropped to his knees and put his arms around Jack! I was frozen in place expecting Jack to rip his throat out.

Thankfully, I worried for naught, because Jack turned into a puppy who immediately fell in love with this stranger and forgot I even exist. I lost complete control of the situation. My command to keep his feet on the ground went unheeded as Jack tried to hug the guy back. It was a love fest and I had no other recourse but to stand there and watch.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate animal lovers. But there is a right way and a wrong way to approach unfamiliar dogs on a leash. Jack weighs 180 pounds! I had control until this guy decided to take over the situation. He got down on Jack's level which was, fortunately, unthreatening to Jack. Okay - but when I gave Jack his commands, the guy dismissed them, and so did Jack. In the future, not everyone will drop to their knees when meeting Jack, and he may think of that as aggressive.

When I finally got control of the situation, and Jack, we continued on our walk but I was shaken. What just happened? It could have had a very different outcome. This blustery guy may think he's all that and well meaning, but it was about him, not me or even Jack.

A true animal lover would think about the dog and the owner first - not their own ego. My problem is, I don't want to hurt people's feelings so I just let stuff happen. Oh, don't get me wrong, I can go toe-to-toe with a bully. But there is a type worse than a blatantly aggressive or nasty person. They are the people who think they can charm their way into doing what they want. They are the real bullies. Shoot - we've been warned about people like that for centuries....

Day Three Hundred Sixty Two

Pool Renovation - Day 6,429

Pool repair hell. I know, I know - boo-hoo, poor you, right? I mean, who complains about having a swimming pool? Many people would love to have that "problem." It's just that the pool and I are not friends.

Let me tell you why. Water and I have a history. When I was a kid, growing up in Pennsylvania, there weren't too many opportunities to swim. Hey, I was a champ at ice skating, but that isn't even recognized as a thing here in Florida. Honestly, it wouldn't have mattered if I'd grown up in the middle of the ocean - or been born a mermaid - I cannot stay afloat. 

I tried telling that to the counselors at Girl Scout Camp. They thought they knew better, so they made me jump into the deep end of the pool. I went straight to the bottom and stayed there. The end result was, they had to jump in and rescue me.

Then my parents enrolled me in the YMCA swim program. That was a bust. I have been thrown into deep water so many times, it's a wonder I haven't grown gills. Would that I could.

But remember, we live in Florida, where you can't dig a hole without creating another "lake", and my husband was determined our kids would be swimmers. That's a whole other story. So, when we built our house in 1989 - we added a swimming pool.

Now, to the heart stopping matter. I have a penchant for Bully breeds. My first dog was a Boston Terrier. We've had a Boxer, Three French Bulldogs and now the two Bullmastiffs. Bully breeds are not known for their swimming prowess.  As a matter of fact, most French Bulldogs cannot swim.



Not our girls, but could be.

I speak from experience on this because all three of ours fell into the pool, sunk to the bottom and had to be rescued. We actually had three little life vests for them. For thirteen years I cursed that pool and wanted to fill it in with dirt.

On the upside, the kids had so much fun in that pool. They had their friends over for parties and the pool was the gathering point. My grandchildren love the thing.

As like the rest of us, the pool started showing its age. A facelift for a pool costs more than one for a human, but it had to be done. All I can say is, I will be long gone before it ever needs another one. If I am still alive, I will just go ahead and kill myself before going through this again. (Kids, if you read this, Gigi is kidding!) No, I'm not....

Rather than bore anyone with the gruesome details of this protracted renovation, I will focus on the effect it's having on the poor creatures living here - starting with poor Roxy. Three weeks ago, we moved her condo to the back yard. Since then, she has been subjected to numerous scary construction sights and sounds, the likes of which I feared would cause her to have a heart attack. I once gave a bunny a heart attack by simply moving it's cage to the driveway. How she has endured is beyond me.

Jack and Rooney. Because the screen doors and gates are wide open, they cannot go out to the backyard. This means they need to be walked out front. On the few days they can go out, they immediately make a beeline for the trash piles strewn about the yard. Those piles contain all sorts of hazards like rusty nails and pieces of concrete. Like heat-seeking missiles, they home in on all things toxic or deadly.

Then, there's the huge, gaping hole, which would appeal only to skate boarders. Imagine a dog's surprise when seeing this for the first time. They both stopped in their tracks and acted like they were teetering on the edge of the Grand Canyon. But I caught fascination in their eyes and stopped them both, before the allure of it took hold, and they jumped in.

Did I mention the rusty nails everywhere? Well, Dash found them when he escaped the safety of the house one day and went tearing around the empty space. As I ran after him, both of us had to sidestep and hop to avoid needing a Tetanus shot. I hate chaos.

I can't explain to the cats why they cannot go outside to their cherished haven. They look at me with pleading eyes - doing their Puss In Boots impersonations - and I want to give them what they want. But like any parent, who has to say no when their kid wants to hear yes, I do the right thing and promise them a trip to Disneyworld.

Day Three Hundred Sixty One

Tick Tock

The days are counting down. I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I started this project. I hope I don't get hit by a bus on day three hundred sixty four...

I've learned a lot this year - about myself and life in general. For example, I learned that I really like lizards. Who knew? There is something about their energy that calms me. No, they aren't fuzzy and cuddly, but they have a presence that is just as appealing - to me.

I also learned that Abyssinian cats are small in stature but larger than life in personality and sheer determination. Those same characteristics can get them into trouble and give their humans lots of headaches. But they are vastly entertaining, and smart.

Last night at bedtime, Dash ran into the front bedroom, ready for the night. Miss Boo! has caught on to our nighttime ritual and figured out our bag of tricks to catch her. There we were, with all of the lights on, running the icemaker, tossing her favorite toy, offering treats, trying to corner her - nothing worked. 

I finally got the cricket keeper and placed it on the floor in front of the bedroom door. That was irresistible to her. Those bugs get her every time. Well, until tonight when, I'm sure, we'll have to think of something else.

For the rest of my life, I will live with an Aby. They are good for the soul.

Another lesson is that our animal companions pick up on our moods. When I am feeling good and upbeat, they are too. When I'm grumpy and mad at the world, ditto. And they watch me very closely for subtle (and not so subtle) hints as to my mood. At any point in time there can be up to nine pairs of eyes watching me for signs as to how the day is going.

I will feel someone looking at me and, sure enough, there will be Jack judging me from his place on the couch - or the Rags huddled together asking each other if the old lady is in a good mood or not. Dash cares, but Boo! seems to have the impression she can change whatever mood I happen to be in by waving her magic paw.

It's all good...because the most important lesson I learned is that even especially those things that make us want to scream or tear our hair out eventually become the best stories.

Day Three Hundred Sixty

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON

I couldn't let this day go by without wishing my firstborn a happy life. Like every mother since time began, I remember this day, so many years ago - vividly. It was the worst and best day of my life.

Back then, it wasn't in vogue to take any pain medication. Boomers (formerly known as Hippies) were having babies and they espoused "natural" childbirth. Ironic that the generation which heralded in the drug culture, drew the line at meds used during the most excruciatingly painful experience a woman can endure! If you so much as hinted you might want something to take the edge off - you were looked at as a traitor to motherhood itself. So there we were, drugless and homicidal. 

I went into the hospital that morning, two weeks overdue and 80 pounds over my starting weight, but excited. When labor started, I declined so much as an aspirin. By late afternoon, I was begging for morphine, heroin, Jack Daniels (mainly so I could crack the bottle and use it as a weapon against just about anyone who came near me) - anything to ease my suffering.

I think at some point I may have punched my husband in the face when he tried to get me to breathe. I thought I was breathing, but they may have mistaken it for demon possession sounds.

I definitely grabbed the doctor by his jacket and threatened his life when, later that day, he said he was going to slip out for a bite to eat. Eat??? How dare he?? It was his fault I didn't have a C-Section but rather pushed out an enormous child weighing nearly 11 pounds.

Our son. His head looked like an eggplant but he was ours. The last thing I remember the doctor saying was, "Wow, I thought maybe 8 pounds at the most - but yikes!" Then I passed out and woke up on his fifth birthday. 

They say the pain is forgotten - not really - but it is replaced with joy when you see your child for the first time. He was chubby and looked more like a three month old in the nursery. The clothes we planned on bringing him home in were too small. People would stop and wonder why the big baby, who didn't fit in their tiny plastic bins, was in the nursery. At 10"6 1/2ozs, and 23 inches long, he was the biggest kid on the block.
He has been larger than life ever since.


What does this have to do with pets? Nothing, really. Remember, this is my blog and I can do what I want. But for those of you with the need to tie things up in a nice bow - I will add this:
Before him (and three years later his beautiful sister) I shared my life with lots of animals. I tried to instill in both of my children a love of animals and nature. I honestly believe it helped to make them the compassionate, loving people they are today.

Oh, sure, our "pet years" as a family were fraught with drama and the unexpected (Molly (Pekingese,) Ned (parakeet,) Rocky (Boxer from hell,) rats (rats,) snakes (shudder), Ariel (Shih Tzu,) Lucky (Jack Russell,) Simon (Chihuahua,) Seven (JRT and Chihuahua mix,) the girls (French Bulldogs) - every one a story. I was a working mom so little time was left for our animal friends. I regret this and perhaps dote on the creatures in my life even more as a sort of atonement.

My advice to young parents - definitely teach your children the value of living with and taking care of other creatures. Lead by example in caring for them, and showing them love and compassion. But, don't take on more than your lifestyle can accommodate.

Your children will learn just as much when you do things like, talking to them about conservation, protecting animals in their natural habitat, rescuing animals in need, choosing to see animals in their natural environment rather than in circuses, zoos and theme parks, and reading to them books about all creatures.

Remember, these kids are going to grow up and, perhaps, take care of you someday. When/if that day comes, you hope they will feed and water you; make sure you don't have fleas and take you for walks. You certainly don't want them to leave you chained up in the backyard, now do you?

Day Three Hundred Fifty Nine

Gigi's Cats

I'm not even going to try to be funny or clever today. Here are some pictures to enjoy...

Day Three Hundred Fifty Eight

Aby Apocalypse

I have been typing with one hand because Boo! is very needy today and wants to be held. It may be because she got into a lot of trouble last night. Quelle surprise!

Andy was in the kitchen; I was in my comfy chair - when, all of a sudden, there was a very loud crash and a burst of light! I thought he put a spoon in the microwave! We both yelled, "What the hell was that!?" which meant neither of us was the perp.

I was afraid to turn around because I was sure I would see an electrocuted body. When I finally got up the courage, I looked behind me and there was Copper's terrarium, teetering on the edge of the credenza, with Miss Boo! behind it, pushing to get at the crickets inside.

Let me stop here and say, this is no flimsy plastic box. It is made of glass and is very heavy. I cannot easily move it. That a four pound baby cat pushed it with ease says a lot about the sheer determination of an Aby.

The flash of light was the result of her getting tangled in the cords and pulling one of the lights over, which turned it into a spotlight illuminating the family room.

As soon as Boo! heard her name being shouted in vain, she bolted and hid in a box in the dining room. Andy came running in and helped me push the terrarium back and set the lights in position. Of course, he touched the metal shade, which is terribly hot.

Personal Damage Assessment:

Two heart arrhythmias
One burned finger
One traumatized lizard

Miss Boo! and Brother Dash went to bed immediately following the incident. I'm sure he doesn't appreciate having to share the consequences of her actions, but I simply cannot put her in a room all by herself. She's mischievous, not evil.

It's not exactly a prison, either. They have everything they could possibly need: food, water, two litter boxes, tons of toys, a cat tree and lots of stuff to explore but not kill or damage. As a matter of fact, during the day, if I'm looking for them, I will often find them in there napping or looking out of the window.

I have also figured out, if I wait to let them out in the morning until after I have doled out food and chopped Copper's salad, I can do it without shooing them out of my way fifty times. Boo! is so intent on watching me chop greens, I worry she's going to lose the tip of her nose or a toe. Dash is fascinated by running water. Both of them try to eat everybody else's food. Abys are not for the weak or feint of heart.

They are, however, the cutest, most entertaining creatures on the planet. If you have lots of patience and don't mind the frequent, heart stopping moments when one is standing precariously close to something breakable; darts between your legs into a no-go-zone when you have a bus to catch; flies out of nowhere and lands on you like an aerial act from La Nouba.  Sometimes it's like they expect to hear applause.

Just now, I went out to get the mail and, when I returned, Boo! appeared out of nowhere to "help" me open it. When I wouldn't let her paw the letter opener and possibly cut herself on the blade, she switched gears and tried to climb into the open cupboard. The one where we keep odds and ends like medicine, batteries and coffee cups.

When I removed her from the counter, she gave me a look I've seen many times before on the faces of my kids and grandkids. The one that says, "You're no fun. And you're mean."  So be it...you're still alive, thanks to this No-fun Meanie.