Can I Keep It?

Things I'm Doing on My Summer Vacation

Week before last, my friend, Nay Nay, whom I have not seen in like, ten years (!) texted me to see if I were up for a girls weekend in NYC.  And I said, "YES!"

 

Her stepson nad his pretty wife were off to Russia visiting her relatives. Their cat, Bella, had recently had intestinal surgery and needed some special care while they were away.  For a free apartment in the City?  I'd be delighted!

Beautiful Bella resting peacefully in bed.  Seems she had been refusing food, throwing up, and had generalized pouting disorder.  At home?  She was fine.  Never lost her dinner.  Ate like a truck driver.  Napped like she was a champion.

This big guy is Finnegan.  He, however, groomed so much that he had a hairball.  On my bed. Nice.  The two of them fought over who got to sleep on my bed and my luggage.  At least it was his turn for the bed and not my suitcase.  Small miracles abound, people.  We take them where they are given.

After eating lunch and picking up Bella at the vet, Nay and I went to the store and bought some supplies.  Okay. Two stores.  One of them may or may not have sold adult libations.

On our way home,we got caught in the rain.  Sadly, we had no pina coladas.

 

But we made up for it on the balcony when we got back to the apartment.  Which, by the way, had fabulous views of Manhattan. We could see the Chrystler building and the Empire State building from just about every window view.

 

 The next morning, we took a stroll on the Long Island City East River Walkway.  Beautiful.

And took the ferry across the East River to 34th street.  And we. Walked. Across. Manhattan. To catch a cruise to visit Lady Liberty on the Hudson!

At the cruise line, we bought a city pass so we couold cram in as many touristy things as we could in the four short days we were in the Big Apple.  As many times as I have been to NYC, I had never done anything touristy. In my twenties, my first husband and I went all the time, but it was always to a party or to hang out with friends in a bar. In my thirties and forties, it was always a work destination.  Zali saw New York maybe five times himself.  He knew all the best places to pee at the Javitz Center.  And his favorite restaurant was Blossom.  A vegan restaurant in the Bronx.  Vegan. Yes. Not even kidding.

 

Me and the lady.

After the cruise, we walked the HighLine.  It's a long walking park that the city converted from an old raised railway, no longer used.  Now it is a beautiful garden.  We stopped at the Chelsea Markets fro a nosh and i had the best soft shell crab sandwich of my life.  And I am an afficianado of the soft shell crab.

The Gehry and Nouvelle buildings.  Both are award winners.  Obviously.

But I'll leave it here.  More tomorrow! 

 

 

Whew

The last couple of weeks Hud and I have been social butterflies.  Good thing he has a five day weekend coming up.  I need a rest. 

We photographed the Rhodes College graduation for one.  Went to a wedding at the Metals Museum for another.

The river is very high from all of the snow run off up north.  It's racing so fast that the barges going downstream disappeared in  a matter of minutes, while the ones travelling upstream?  Are probably still fighting the current six days later.

We went to a Gatsby Party, which was grand fun.  And my Art Deco jewelry got to go out for the evening, which it adored. Art Deco jewelry loves a good party.

Our friends, the Flowers.  Hud has known Calvin since they were babies, like sixty years.  Not being hyperbolic, even.  For reals.

We're having the house refinanced.  Zali and Simone were not impressed.  They had to go to jail for a few hours while the appraiser was here.

Muhzer! Wee are ze stressed owt!

I should have put Simone in her Thundershirt. Hud and I did Paws for a Cause a couple of weekends ago and I gave in and bought her one to ease her anxiety.  Two years ago, without warning, Simone became petrified of thunderstorms.  The slightest rumble would cause her to shake so terribly that I was afraid she'd rattle her teeth out of her head.  When I discovered her hiding behind the toilet after I got out of the shower, I knew that I had to try something.  And you know what?

EffingFunderCanBiteMe.GrowlAtSomebodyElse,AshullSky.

It works!  

The Thundershirt doesn't completely put her at ease, but during yesterday's storms, she merely panted a few times.  No shaking!  Simone even managed a nap during a particularly strong line of storms.  I may get one for Boudreaux.  Zoe didn't teach him how to catch a ball like an Olympian, but she did transfer her fear of the vacuum cleaner.

And we went to bunch and lunches with a variety of friends.  That's about enough, isn't it?

Well, there is this:

A baby Fig Parrot.  From Zooborns.com.

You are welcome.

Boudreaux Gardens

Dis whut Bou fink of fowlers.

Bou rain on dem for yew.  Help grow.  Make preety.

Yewr welcome.

Mon Petit Chou

Today was lovely.  A soft warm breeze, slightly overcast, quiet. Finally spring-like!

Hud and I started planting the garden yesterday, so today, the kids and I soldiered on without him.

We weeded the bed in front of the Shicken.  Simone was of great assisstance. 

You could probably tell from the dirt in her ruff that she is quite handy at hole digging.  In fact, she majored in it as a undergrad.

Boudreaux was...Boudreaux.  He splashed across the pool cover, leapt over brick walls and fencing, around the backyard, under the azaleas, over the pool deck and into the garden with a crashing stop at my hunched over body. 

Bou hab eggsellent adbenture. Gardening pffun.

It was all going very well until I turned to ask Zali how he was getting along with the weeding and discovered that he had dug up one of my newly planted cabbages!  He had chomped it down to the roots.

Whut? Eet wuz zee qualitee cuntroll, Muhzer!

Now, I knew he and Simone could not be trusted with broccoli, but cabbages?!?! Le sigh. He looks remorseful, but I had to stop him from murdering the rest of the crop, the little buggar.  That's the look of a guilty man, not a sorry one.  No wait. Guilty and sorry. That's more like it.

Time of death - 10:39.  Farewell, mon petit chou.  I hardly knew ye. 

Bou and Simone took the death seriously and decided to be on their best behavior for the remainder of the outing. Zali went up to the house, pouting.  He stayed by the back door yipping to go in.  Seems I had spoiled all his fun.  

I finished planting cucumbers, beets, bush beans and Thai eggplant.  The three of us joined him at the door when it was time to start making lunch.

A very fine spring morning, inspite of the carnage.

 

 

You Shoulda' Been in Pictures...

The Zali Lama should have been in pictures.  Several times a day, I look over at him and he is situated perfectly on the soft edge of a beam of light.  Professional models dream of having his ability.

Ze Zali, he conteemplates ze meening uf lyef.

Several years ago, when we went to do the Licensing Show at the Javett's Center in New York, other exhibitors would come by the booth and tell us that he should have a show of his own.  I'd tell them to sign us up!  He loves to travel, wear expensive clothes and jewelry and has about eleventy hundred expressions and vocalizations. He got to go to the shows because of my anxiety issues.  But oh!  The others loved to see him, too!  He played out in the aisles during slow times and greeted guests.  One exhibitor even came by and took him for a while to help with the pain of having to leave his own dogs at home.

Le Sigh.

Ahhhh, talent wasted. The world has suffered such a loss. 

So sad for ze world, Muzher! Ah wouldn't want to share zhem weet yew!

A Funny Thing Happened...

...On the way to Zoe's passing.

*Photo by the talented Hud Andrews on the day Zoe came to be our baby.

Sorry I upset so many people yesterday.  I thought I'd tell you a few funny stories about Zoe today to make up for it.  She was quite the rodeo clown.

We started to rename her, "Bonk".  She would tumble out of the van, down the stairs, off the couch.  It all ended the same way.  Flat on her head.  She'd hop up, shake it off and be on to the next adventure.  Zoe was one tough puppy.  Just  a rub-some-dirt-on-it-and-go girl. 

 

Zoe was HARD to train.  I think it was all that little girl on the playground squealing that went on in her head.  She just couldn't hear me over it.  So you can imagine what a joy it was for her to greet people at the door.  The little girls in her head would scream, "COMPANY!!!" and Zoe would fly at the door, bonking people in the crotch.  Sigh.  I swear I wanted to put a basket filled with football players protective cups by the  front door with a sign that read, "Put one on and ring bell at your own risk."

Our neighbor, Maryann, loves labs, but Zoe was always knocking her around.   One day, Maryann popped over.  I restrained the exuberant Zoe and she said for me to let her go.  We were going to ignor her and chat so that Zoe could get used to being around her. So there we were, talking about nothing in particular, when Maryann's eyes popped open wide and she exclaimed, "OOOOpps!" We looked down.  Maryann had on t-shirt knit shorts.  Zoe had cramed her head into the left side and out the right leg.  Her body was wriggling and her face beamed.  The two of us burst into peals of laughter!  Everytime we tried to extract the dog's mug from her pants, the pants came down and the harder we laughed.  Oh, that dog.  Marley was an obedience school five star cadet compared to Zoe.  

One Summer, when Zoe was young, we all went out to the pool on a sunny Summer afternoon.  Hud and I got in to swim.  Zoe wouldn't go unless you forced her.  Despite the fact that she swam like a paddlewheeler, she hated to get in.  She loved to be splashed in the face like a ten year old boy, but no way were you putting her all the way in there.  Needless to say, Hud and I weren't paying attention and as we went back to get our bourbon and cokes, saw that they were completely empty!  Barely an ice cube left in the glasses.  Yes, Zoe had drained them both.  We were more careful after that.  

But that didn't stop Zoe's call to alcohol.  

Hud's habit was to take Carmen and Zoe to the park for a run every morning. (She did it on the Friday before her death even.) So on this particular day, a bum was walking through the woods, drinking a forty.  Zoe raced to his side, jumping and barking.  The frightened man yelled to Hud, "Please don't let your dog eat me, Mister!" Hud sighed and said, She doesn't want you.  She wants your beer."  "Oh!" replied the man, "She's a booze hound!"  And he laughed.

After a bad storm of straight line winds, we needed help cleaning up and making repairs.  Hud hired a man.  I didn't know he was in the back yard, and had let the dogs out. "COMPANY!" the girls in her head screamed and off Zoe went.  "MISTER! CALL OFF YOUR DOG! MISTER! PLEASE! MISTER!" as he ran for the back fence.  Hud yelled for him to stop.  And calmed him enough to get him to pet her.  I mean, she was mistaken more than once for a horse.  You see, Zoe loved a good workman with a tool belt.  I always had to warn people working in the house that she would steal their tools.  If they missed something, it was always stashed under the dining room table. One time, she robbed a man of his hammer, tapemeasure, a wrench and a screwdriver.  Over the years that Mike worked here, he and Zoe became fast friends.  He made a point of hanging gloves out of his back pocket so she would have something to steal.  Mike loved to make a big game out of getting them back, fussing at her the whole time.

There is so much more.  My Funny Face was a real commedian. I'm gonna' miss that.  She was a big presence in this house. Physically and spiritually.

 

 

 

Little Dog

For something that was so long in coming, it all went down very fast.  

Zoe had been doing great.  A stellar patient. When originally diagnosed, she was given thirty days.  That was almost nine months ago.  Performing way beyond the challenges facing her.  She chased the ball every morning.  Ate her meals with vigor.  When she was given new foods, she always gave a satisfying moan, "Mmmmmmmm!"

She was happy.

Then, on Saturday, for the first time since she was diagnosed with cancer, she acted like she didn't feel well.  On Sunday, she did what she was asked.  We took her for ice cream, a habit we began as "Make-A-Wish-For-Zoe".  But it was clear, she did it for us.  She had given up.

On Monday morning, we already had an appointment with Dr. Michener, her oncologist.  I asked her get up one last time.  I begged her.  And dutiful dog that she was, struggled to her feet.  I helped her get as far as the side door.  She collapsed.  It was the last time Zoe ever got up.

We got to the office and had to carry her in on a liter. And Kathy came into the room.  She had told me when we started this journey that she never knew how long they had to live, but they would let us know.  Zoe was making it plainly clear.  She was done.

Hud's tears rained down on Zoe's sweet head as we said goodbye.  It was the kindest passing that I have ever had the privledge of witnessing.  Even Dr. Michener was in tears.  We had all done our best, but no one more than Zoe.

We got Zoe at the agricenter, eleven years ago as we went out to get beans on a Saturday morning.  She was bred to be a goose hunter.  Her litter was large with robust eight week old puppies of fifteen and sixteen pounds. She weighed eight.  The runt of the litter.  And a red head to boot.  I had fallen in love. The breeder asked Hud what he hunted.  He said that the dog was for me.  He asked me what I hunted.  I told him, "Designer shoes at fabulous prices!"  I thought he would snatch the dog from my arms.

But oh, was she a bad puppy.  A terrible chewer, she removed the dashboard from my car, ate the hard knob of the gearshift, demolished a couch and could crack a golf ball in half.  Hud said that if she ever caught a cold, he was going to put her down. 

At four years old, a switch flipped.  Suddenly, she was the gentlest, sweet, well behaved spirit in the whole house.  Hud trained her to catch the ball.  She began running with him in the mornings.  Finally, Hud fell in love.

She always thought she was a little dog.  Smaller than Simone even.  There was a chihuahua in the park that could flip her onto her back. Zali dominated her. She never knew what a great big beast she was.  At one of the Rhodes College games, a small boy asked me if he could pet my horse.

Farewell, my sweet tiny girl.  Safe trip and so much love to guide your way.  We miss you.

Happy Saint Valentine's Day!

Here's a little something for you to love...

Enjoy the day with your loved ones!

Long Time, No Blog

I've been crushed by commission deadlines for the past month.  I know.  It's probably bragging, rather than complaining.  Work is good.  Pets are still crazy.  Everything was humming along and then -

It turned cold. We had the boiler serviced and the pilot lit. Scintillating, I know.  But the system never fully heated and in the morning, Hud went down to check on it and the pilot had gone out.  So we had James come back.  He found a leak in a pipe, so he thought.  Hud called a contact from work who came out that day to see it.  They referred us to a heating company.  They came out and then - 

The serviceman found out the boiler reservoir had cracked.  

I know.

Game over. Scene.  Get the Fat Lady warmed up.

But we're counting our bessings.  The mechanical engineer who came out and diagosed the problem said it should have exploded when Hud and James tried to light it the second time.  Said he had seen them blow through the foundation seven or eight feet into the ground.

I know.

We've been without heat since Friday.  It's colder than a witch's hoo ha at night.  Even the dogs are snuggling up for warmth.  

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Bou was shivering, despite cuddling up against Zoe.  So we covered the two of them up.

The guys just arrived to install the new one.  Twenty-first century, here we come!

Bou fink dis gud idea. Bou lyke.

Life's a Box of Chocolates

And I just got the icky maple cream one.

It's official.  Zoe has cancer.

A couple of weeks ago, we took her to Park Avenue Animal Hospital for a bone biopsy.  Carolyn McCutcheon has been taking care of my mongrel hoard for many, many years.  I trust her and respect her.  She's a bit of a House character in that she can diagnose anything on instinct.  But without the freaky addiction and angry bedside manner.

The pathology came back Monday.  Carolyn rushed it because when she got in there, she said it wasn't pretty.  The news is not good.  Zoe has a particularly aggressive form of sarcoma.  This particular kind sets up the mother ship in the bone somewhere.  In this case, it's the extreme upper femur next to the ball joint. A bad place for breakage.  After it sets up camp, it immediately sends out ninjas to the various organs of the body.  And they wait.  Quietly.  The mother ship is a selfish sarcoma.  It likes to eat its fill of bone first.  If it is removed, a chemical it sends out to the ninjas telling them to stay put, will be removed also.  And they will know it's time to attack. 

My friend, Kathy Mitchener, is one of the best veterinary oncologists in the well, just about anywhere.  She works at Angelcare.  Kathy has a new drug with high results for prolonging life, bone strength and pain management.

So that's where Zoe and I went on Tuesday.  She was so frightened, they had to sedate her.  While my big sweet dog napped peacefully to the drip of her IV, I sat on the floor with her heavy head on my lap, reading Cesar Milan and Cat Fancy magazines for two hours.

But Zoe does feel better.  So much so, I can't keep her from running.  Although at this point it's more of a hop/skip!  We're going to keep her comfortable.  Give her all the lacrosse balls she wants to tear up.  Take her out for ice cream and give her the Carmen Cone.

When Carmen was alive, Hud and I would take her out for ice cream on a hot summer day.  When one of us got to the bottom, about a four inch cone, we'd give it to her.  Whenever we go out for ice cream at The Michoacana, we still call who gets the Carmen Cone.

Only now beautiful Zoe will get the Carmen Cone. And all of the empty peanut butter jars, too.