Can I Keep It?

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.

 

 

 

Hanging in There

Last week, we almost put Carmen down.

I know.

But she could hardly walk.  Looked dazed.  She kept wetting herself.  It was heartbreaking.  But Monday morning, she had gotten up by herself and waited for me to let her outside.  She was terribly unsteady.  I stood beside her so she could lean on me.

I told Hud. Neither of us are willing to let her go, it seems.  So that night we trimmed her once luxurious fur and gave her a warm bath.  I didn't want to do it by myself.  She'd never been in the tub and I was afraid it might frighten her.

Was I ever wrong.  She loved it! Carmen laid in the tub and let me massage her stiff legs.  After, we dried her and Hud placed her on her bed in the den.  I covered her with two thick towels to keep her warm.  She slept the whole night for the first time in months.

And in the morning, got up on her own.  A little wobbly, she hopped down the stairs to go outside completely unassisted. The water changed her.  She practically ran to me when I called for her to come back inside.

So, like our other old lady, Aida, she's still hanging in there.

Only far less cranky about the aging process.

 

Ten

Yesterday, we celebrated Zoe's tenth birthday!  We sang happy birthday dear Zoe, which I'm sure sounded like, "Blurdy poo poop, HERE ZOE!" to her.

 

We did all of her favorite things, which were eat, nap, throw the ball and hang around the pool.  Which, by the way is code for, "ignore my outfit and complete lack of effort" ensemble.  I wasn't supposed to be in the pictures.

After we trumpeted in her special day, CAKE was served.  Zoe got the first bite.

 

Enough of the politeness from Zoe.  Here's where Zoe takes the CAKE:

 

And Zali tried to "help".  Not to worry, he got a piece of his very own.

 

Wee Simone got some, too.

 

Of course, hers seemed to last forever.  That is one dainty eater, unusual in a pooch.

 

After much ado, she had her CAKE and ate it, too.

 

Carmen was upstairs, in the nursing home.  She was singing songs.  But she didn't know it was Zoe's day.  She was probably chanting pirate ditties and imagining the budgies were parrots.

Happy birthday, dear old Zoe!  Stick around for another ten, will ya'?

Rage Against the Machine

Life in my Animal House is a never ending adventure. 

 

To view the rest, please go to: http://canikeepit.typepad.com/the_/

Swimmingly

My blog buddy, Duffylou, suggested that I take up swimming until my back is better.  Who knew?  Really?  You can use the pool for exercise?  It's not just for sitting beside, drinking Crangelas and reading magazines?

What?

No, Zoe, I deed not know zees eihzur!

Shocking. 

I swam twenty laps this morning as fast as I could.  I was out of breath.  I was sweating.  Yes, sweating.  In the pool.  Shut up.  It happens.

I'm no Michael Phelps, but it was a good workout.  Of course, if  I were Michael Phelps, I could eat 12,000 calories a day and have a perfect physique.  So now I have that unattainable goal...

What?

I do nut know, Zoe.  Go bacque to zee sleepeeng. Ze Muhzur.  She rambles sometimes.

Duffylou is a genius.  But she's had chronic back troubles, so maybe it's expertise.  Because my back?  Feels pretty good. 

My spirits?  Are much better.

The Paws That Refreshes

Springing up around Memphis, car washes are closing off bays so you can wash your dog.  At the Jolly Wash near  Bartlett, six bucks buys your stinky pal a shampoo (anti-flea, conditioning, etc.) and a blow dry.  You can even vacuum him.

Arnie would have loved that.  That rabbit's best friend was the Dyson.

Zali and Simone?  Not as much.  I don't hose down the kids very often.  I think it strips their fur of the natural oils they need.  I know it's counter-intuitive, but they smell less doggy, too.

Zali expressing his dislike.  Phhhhtttt.

The time had come.  Zali's ruff was crunchy.  His design flaws had unknown bits of debris stuck to them.  He was, well, yucky.

I hate you.  You are a mean bad muhzer fuzzer.

Won't you help Zali, Fahzur?  

Great.  Now I'll have to collect new crap to steek in my fur.  I hate zees steenky clean smell.

Simone pads nervously around the bathroom while I bathe Monsieur Crunchypants. 

Simone's sadness crushed my soul.

 

But I hosed her down anyway.  Truth be told, she wasn't even stinky or crusty or any of the other dwarfs.

GeeesousCwist!Maywee,JoesepAndAllThaSaints!Cwap.

She finally stopped cursing and we struck a deal for her release.

She and Zali sprayed the walls with their violent shaking.  I know why people find taking their pets to the car wash so appealing.  If we bathed Zoe in there, we'd have to contact FEMA for the flood damage.

My favorite part of the whole show.  Simone and Zali burst from the bathroom door.  Simone's books for the bedroom, leaps onto the bed, scooting her face along the covers to dry.  She'll jump down, race about the upstairs, through the bathroom, into the office, down the length of the rug and fly back onto the bed until she collapses in a satisfied heap.

Why is it that they always smell worse after a bath?  They reek of soggy wet fur for hours.  Sometimes, I think it would be better just to let them stay like they were.

 

Gweat!NowYouThinkOfIt.Cwap.

Bearly Able to Write

I have this postcard from the thirties or forties that has a cartoon of a portly nudist lady (in pearls, natch!) high tailing it away from a bear who is chasing her.  The caption reads: "Barely able to find time to write --I have a big bear behind!" 

Which is very witty (It was the 1940's, people!) until you hear the story about the kid who was attacked by a black bear in eastern Tennessee this last weekend.  They had finished their jaunt and were taking a few pictures to commemorate the event, when the bear came out of the trees and jumped the child from behind.  The father pried the jaws of the eighty pound beast off of his boy, but when the scared little guy ran for cover, the bear attacked him again.  When the police found the bear, he even lunged at them!  The boy's shook up and battered, but seems to be fine on the surface.  The craziest part of the story is that his Dad had to talk him into going to hike the trails in the Smokey Mountains in the first place.  Why?  Because he told his father that he was going to get attacked by a bear! 

If I ever have a dream or intuition that I am to be mauled by a bear, we aren't going anywhere near a forrest.  Now, I've slept in those same woods, on a rocky outcropping many years ago. We hiked deep into the rhododendrons and passed a a pair of cubs sleeping way up in a tree.  The mother leaves them like that while she goes out shopping, for safety reasons. As we made camp, we strung our food high in the air between two pines so the bears would not get to it, like they tell you to.  Although, if she puts her kids up in a tree for safe keeping...nevermind.  I'm still not sure why we didn't leave the food on the ground and suspend ourselves in the air, but I was young (read: bullet proof) and everybody KNOWS that black bears don't attack people...

This is Zoe's impression of a Grizzly Bear.  If you smack you foot down on the water, making a loud clap, she raises up on her hind legs and jumps in the air with one low, full bark. 

I know, I don't get it either.

I'm sure the boy would have rather been attacked by Zoe. ( He wouldn't have been scratched but he might have drowned from the slobbering.)  Or maybe not, if she bonked him in the crotch with a rubber toy.  Hud says he thinks he'll take his odds with the bear, given that scenario.

The Simple Life

Ahhhhh, Zoe. I try to learn life lessons from my gentle beast.  One is to enjoy the simple things.  Like getting splashed like a ten year old until you think you're drowning.

She enjoys every day.  She wakes up and if there's water in the bowl and food in the dish, it's a fantastic day.  If somebody plays a game with you, it's a terrific day. Zoe rejoices in the small things like a tiny flick of water.

You can barely see it, but she knows it's there and catches it mid-air.

Her quality of life is one of the things I envy my daintiest daughter.  She's the type of soul that you could set on a deserted island and she would make a good life for herself.  Her life is never lived in deficit.  She has enough. 

I had a Dalmatian named Howard once like that.

Howard was never bored.  I can remember one fine spring morning twenty years ago.  The windows were open and I could hear Howard growling at something in the backyard.  I was afraid that someone's dog had gotten in the fence, so I went out to investigate.  As I turned the corner from the patio to the yard, past the screen of bamboo, I saw him.  Howard was standing in the middle of the grass with a very long branch that had fallen from the oak tree.  It was propped on his back.  As he slowly walked forward, the limb would slip down his spotted hide and he would snap back at it, grimacing and growling, but on he crawled.  The further it slid, the more intense his attacks, until it slipped completely off of his body and crashed to the grass. He jumped on it, ferociously biting and barking at the inert branch.  Howard suddenly stooped down and lifted his enemy, running like a mad dog around and around the oak tree. Just when I thought he might turn into butter, he dropped to the ground, exhausted.  He looked up at me with a broad grin, happily having defeated the stick.  I shook my head and returned to my laundry.  He spent the rest of the afternoon, placing the limb on his back and repeating the fight scene over and over with his imaginary friend. 

Though less creative, Zoe is a lot like Howard.  Her life is always full.  I envy that.   

No, that's not one of those stinky Asian fruits that is supposed to taste like pudding if you can get it past your nose without gagging.  It's Zoe's fur after a hard day of splashing by the pool.  It's marvelous the way it forms tiny points to wick away the moisture.  She's dry very quickly.

It's something small, but I really appreciate that her body can do that.

See?  I'm learning already.

Lazy Dog Days of Summer

Let me introduce y'all to Zoe. Zoe is a pretty, pretty girl. She is not, however, a rocket scientist like my brother, who really is one. Zoe is about as bright as a bag of bricks. Although a pure bred lab with better breeding than that of either Hud or myself, she is afraid to get in the pool, even on the most hellish of summer days. She will wait by the edge of the pool and stare at you until you cry. Occassionally, she will drool on your head, if she cannot get your attention any other way. Then you must splash like she's a ten year old boy at summer camp. You must do this until your arms will not raise above your waist. They will be limp noodles attached to your shoulders, but she will be happy. You must do this because you love her and she asks for very little. Zoe would ask for more, but she is, well, a slightly dim bulb lighting up a stunningly gorgeous lamp.