Thursday, June 23, 2011

Tucker Strikes Again...

Well, I’m sure our dog is the healthiest dog around.
I came home to find three vitamin bottles under our kitchen table.  The lids were chewed off.  And they were empty.  And Tucker was asleep in our entry.  Not dead.  Just asleep.

Apparently, each and every vitamin was devoured.  He ate a bottle of vitamin D3, mushrooms and green tea.  Following my diagnosis, I met with a cancer nutritionist who suggested I take several daily supplements. They’re expensive.  
He ate $138.97 worth of daily supplements.  
And he’s still alive.  The supplements didn’t kill him.  
And neither did I.  
So if I keep a running total of expenses, we’ve just embarked on a four-digit figure for this guy.  By the time you factor in his adoption fee, training sessions, bones, dog food, more bones, many collars and leashes (every trainer I meet recommends a different one -- plus he chewed one right off his neck), more bones, new walking shoes, and antlers (yes, you read that right), this guy’s expensive.  
But still worth it.
The day before he ate my vitamins (which by the way, I felt were far out of his reach on the kitchen counter), my daughter and I took him to Yozen Frogurt.  We had dreamed of this day -- Rachel and I and our new Golden Retriever sitting outside on their patio on a beautiful summer’s day enjoying the best yogurt in town.  Except Tucker came to us with one fear -- 
getting into a car.  
So we hired a trainer who, in five minutes, had him jumping into our car.  So the next day, we headed out for yogurt.   And into a nightmare.  
After we ate our bowls of yogurt, we walked back to our car and said, “Tucker, in the car” and he refused.  He wanted nothing to do with getting back into the car.  So I did my best to coax, carry and pull him into our car.  I couldn’t do it.  Remember, the guy weighs close to 90 pounds.   So as I grabbed his collar one more time and tried to throw help him in, he squirmed out of his collar and made a mad dash off into the parking lot.  Thankfully, I grabbed the very end of his yellow tail and hung on with all my strength.  
Thank God, there just happened to be sheriffs from a Search and Rescue team finishing their yogurt.  I had Rachel hang onto him and ran over and asked two sheriffs to use their rescue skills on my behalf.  He fought them off too, but eventually their skills won out over his will.
Oh, what fun memories of owning our very own Golden Retriever!
  The name Marley is popping into my head more than ever before.
Our next training session is today at 3:45.  I can’t wait.
And, again, the guy got off easy.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

14 Children...

I have a friend who's mom's funeral is today.  
As a tribute to her, please enjoy an article she wrote a few years back for a book titled, 
I Love Being a Mom by Therese J. Borchard.  
Not only was she a gifted writer, but a gifted Mother as well.

By Marie Poyer

I have Boomers.  Baby Boomers.
Lots of them.  Fourteen.  That's lots.
They came in two varieties.  Boys and girls.  Seven of each.
They came to live in my heart from 1947 to 1964.  They never left.

They came with tiny fingers tucked inside my heart, sticky kisses plopped upon my cheeks, and eyes of brown and eyes of blue that followed my every move.

The angels that sent them down equipped them with skates and scooters and bikes and all the toes and arms and legs to ride and pedal and scoot.  And laundry.

All but one.  One little girl must have hidden behind a cloud on the day the finishing touches were spread around.  She stayed a few short years and went Home to open up some rooms for the rest of us at the B&B in the Sky.

They came with hot dogs and cookies, diapers and skinned knees, homework and carpools, chocolate and Cheerios, socks that never match, footballs and baseball bats and swim meets and proms.  And laundry.

There came a day when they gave their hearts away to that cute boy from English Lit or that little redhead at 31 Flavors.  There were bridal gowns and flowers, tuxes and boutonnieres, new homes and cars and starry eyes and dreams.

Now I have Boomettes.  Baby Boomers' Babies.
Lots of them.  Thirty-five.  That's lots.
They came in two varieties too.  Boys and girls.

They came mixed with Irish and Italian, Polish and
German, Dutch and Latino, Jewish and Lebanese, French and Yugoslavian, Native American and Canadian.  And laundry.

One day I blinked and the Boomettes were Boomin'!  And the sticky kisses keep on coming and the eyes still follow me around and so many fingers, large and small, are tucked inside my heart.

So many years.  So much love to give and take.  So much laundry.  So many socks that were impossilbe to match.

I love being a Mom.

May I Present to You...

Exhibit A.

Formerly, a foam finger that was bought at a Dodgers game.

Exhibit B.

My favorite (and only) pair of walking shoes.

Now may I present to you Defendant A.

Likes to pose as a water goblet.  She would never hurt a fly.

Defendant B.

Spends most of his days just like this.  
With his eyes shut and a smile on his face.

Defendant C.

Looks a little crafty, 
but can always be found in the corner of my closet.

Defendant D.  
As in Dog.  
As in Bad Dog.

Looks a little guilty, don't ya think?
Possibly remorseful?

Last week, we officially added this Defedant, also known as 
Tucker Douglas Marek,
 to our family.
After I signed the papers to adopt him, he celebrated by killing a baby bird in our backyard, chased our cats up the stairs all night and chewed things that he was told were off limits.
Clearly, he was excited.
Clearly, the honeymoon period is over.

Needless to say, I was not happy to come home to a half-eaten shoe.  
But I am happy that my rule (pet peeve) of putting away our shoes 
must now be followed (especially by me!)
Or else.

Looks like this guy got off easy this time.

Happy summer from Tucker and his new 
shoeless/foam finger-less family!