Can I Keep It?

Brave New World

The only reason I've been so silent is that my life is living me right now.  I have no control of it.  It's as if I've been pushed into a swollen, raging stream and all I can do is try to swim for shore.

So much to talk about. No time to do it.

Hud had a heart event.  Atrial flutters. The doctors are managing it and he is doing just fine, but it got us to talking.  And thinking.  And refiguring our life plans.

We want need for Hud to retire.  And keeping our beautiful, gorgeous house is more than we can handle.  The grounds (three fourths of an acre), two houses, a pool and gardens are too much for us to say grace over effectively, given the changes of the last few months.

We are downsizing to a smaller property.  We are leaving our beloved Schyterbolle.  All of us are quite sad about it.

We don't know where we're going yet.  The search has only just begun, as are the preparations to sell our handsome home. We've been here nearly sixteen wonderful years.  This home has seen so much of our lives.

I always knew that at some point I would have to leave it, as a home like this is an inheritance of sorts.  You take care of it for a while, and pass it on to the next person to love.

I'm just not sure I was through loving it yet.

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.

Sprung

A few days ago, I headed out to the garden to do some weeding with the kids.  As I left the door and waited for them to follow, I realized that the wisteria arbor above my head was issuing a low huuuuuummmm.

Spring had errupted in my yard.  The kids set about to chasing drunken bees.

 

Over night, the arbors over the patio and at the end of the pool, look as if they are cover by a thick lavendar chenille spread.

My favorite time of the year snuck up on me.

NotMe,Mommee.IHeardDemPrickleeJerksFromInsideTheHowse!

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!

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.

Change is in the Air

Last Friday, the winds blew in a change in the weather. We awoke to temperatures in the eighties.  A full twenty degrees cooler than the average around here.  

The kids were frisky.  It hasn't been this lovely in months.  Boudreaux was all smiles.

Zoe felt better than ever.  She even insisted on going to the park with Hud and Boudreaux.

Zali wanted to go for a walk, but he settled for chasing Bou and Simone around the backyard.

Hud came out to enjoy the day, but he was so into the book, Gone Girl, that he hardly noticed it.

The toad lilies are blooming brightly after the storms.

All of the yard was heaving a sigh.  The drought is lifted.

AhThinkItSuks.It'sGettingMyBeautifulFurWet.StupitWain.

Two Million Dogs

Simone says, "HELP!"

Well, not her, but our friend, GInger Morgan, who runs the non-profit, Two Million Dogs Two Miles , which promotes awareness of cancer and dogs.  It's a terrific organization she started years ago, when  her beloved Pete, contracted cancer.  Two Milion dogs is vying for a chance to win a car.  Please go to www.100carsforgood.com and vote for Ginger! They're in second place right now.

If you don't, she's blackmailing me that she will come to my house and teach my dogs bad tricks.  Really?  My boys are already wearing underpants.  If she's got something worse than THAT?  I'm in big trouble.  

GO VOTE! 

Zali says, " No! Don't!  Eye whant to see what sheese got up her sleeve!"

IT"S ONLY TODAY!  GO VOTE!

Magical Underpants

Bou like new fambly, but they weird kinda.  Ovher day, Zali pee on chair.  So Bou pee on chair.  Mommee get mad.  Frow owtside.  Why Mommee mad?  Bou just telling Zali that chair is his now.  Fun game.

Mommee give Bou new clothes.  They panch.  Magical panch. Bou like panch.  Give him freedom.  Not tied to leash or put owtside.  Like panch.

Ugh.  The boys have started to have their pissing contest in the house.  One will mark a wall and the other will cover it.  Then a chair and the other will claim it.  I was about to take stock in white vinegar and denatured alcohol when Hud and I had lunch with our friends, Bob and Mary.  Mary owns Creature Comforts , a pet sitting service in Memphis.  So I asked her for any suggestions, since both the boys are housetrained.  This is strictly a behavioral issue.  She said to go out and buy them Belly Bands.  Who knew?  So after lunch, we high tailed it over to Hollywood Feed and bought a couple.

The band covers their man bits.  A sanitary napkin inside keeps them from being able to play their wicked little game.  Keeps their pee shooters holstered.  Their hoses housed.  You get my drift.  Boudreaux has stopped wetting his pad already.  Zali is still man enought to try to tell Bou which items he demands to own.  We're working on it.  But the house is no longer a gaming field.

If I knew the person who invented it, I'd track them down and kiss them on the lips.

Not Ze Zali!  He wood track zhem down and peece on zhem.  Tetes de merde!

Dirty Laundry

It seems every week, I am besieged by stinky t-shirts, muddy pants, hairy bedsheets and other various garments and such in varying states of cleanliness.  Cleanlessness?

The little kids are used to the hourly treks up and down the stairs.  Hauling yet another basket of filth to the laundry and delivering a fresh batch upstairs to retire to its nesting place, waiting for the next round of grime to cover it.  Boudreaux is perplexed by the contant trail of smelly goodness rendered sweet and uninviting by the washing machine.  He thinks they are far better worn than fresh.

Zali, however loves a load, warm from the dryer.  He used to make the many trips to and fro until of late.  Boudreaux, puppy still, inadvertently stepped on him and hurt one of Zali's knees.  I would climb the staircase, he would whine pitifully at the base.  Trapped by his floating kneecaps.

Then yesterday, it came to me.  Going up!  I swooped up Zali and plopped him on the warm, folded towels and carted him with me.

 

Problem solved! 

Zali gets a free ride to the top and I have one fewer trip back down to retrieve him.  No more tears!

Now if I can just figure out how to keep Boudreaux from mouthing all over the cat until she becomes a soggy blop of fur...

I'm not really sure there's an entry in the  manual for that.