With that being said, Sophie is my shadow. Where I go, she goes. Jillian had a little dog whose fur was black as night, if Jillian left to go to work, Sophie was sure to fight. When I leave her, I can walk out the front door and hear the keening cries from the bereft “pea.” Yes, Sophie loves me.

Sometimes, though, all bets are off. One night last week, I was grumpy and tired and had grabbed my book to read before bedtime, as I frequently do. I lay down with my book and my small package of whole wheat peanut butter crackers and finally, finally managed to relax. As I munched my crackers, I read chapter after chapter. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, drink the water. Repeat. I looked up and there was my adoring little dog…with narrowed eyes, cocked ears and a look of pure envy. Her face said, “Give me those crackers and no one gets hurt.”

I had one cracker left. I was hungry, tired and needed my cracker. I slowly put it in my mouth and chew, chew, chew, swallow, water. Sophie looked at me, looked at the empty wrapper and stood up. She walked to the far side of the bed and turned her back to me. She refused to look at me or engage in any kind of cuddling. Yes, I’d just done the impossible: I’d made my dog hate me over peanut butter crackers.

The next day, I woke up to my dog nuzzling my hand and all slights forgotten. I got cuddles, hugs and sweetness. If only all relationships were so simple.

Often, he’d walk up to me and proffer the flowers for his “amazing, wonderful mama,” but lately the flowers had been for our turtle, Petey. He’d recently discovered that flowers were a delicacy for Petey and the more fragrant the flower the more Petey would tear into it with relish. Petey tended towards a grumpy nature and would rarely open his eyes for anything more than what appeared to be a piratey “Argh” when he was prodded, so to see him come out of his shell, literally, to eat that flower with gusto was a sight for AJ to behold. We’d stand around Petey’s pen and watch him eat and imagine that the flowers put him in a better mood.

Last night, though, I’d been at my friend Bryan’s house until late. When I came home, I immediately checked in on Petey, as I do frequently throughout the day. I noticed that he was splayed in a fashion that was unnatural to him and picked him up to check on him. When he didn’t open his eyes to glare at me, it occurred to me that something was terribly wrong. His little limbs didn’t move and prodding him didn’t change his posture. Petey was gone.

Lately he’d been lethargic and I’d attributed it to the changing seasons. I’d taken him outside a couple of days earlier for some sunshine and even that time in the sun and shade hadn’t perked him up. His shell had become flimsy and, after looking at some information online, it became apparent to me that he’d had a disease that we hadn’t caught. Because AJ was sleeping, and Petey couldn’t stay in the cage like that, he was laid to rest in the creek behind the house. I didn’t want AJ to wake up without his turtle and not know why, so I woke him up and gently told him the news. He checked on Petey often and had I not told him, he would have been startled to not find him.

He was confused, but I thought he understood what I was telling him. I was wrong.

Oh, my sweet boy. My sensitive child.

When he took Sophie for a walk this afternoon and brought home that pink flower with the biggest grin he could muster, I never once considered Petey. He walked up to the fireplace mantle, where we kept Petey’s cage, looked at me and arched his eyebrow slightly.

“Mom, where did you put Petey?”

Oh no.

I explained to him that I’d told him last night that Petey had passed away. The most terrible look crossed his face and I will not forget his words. “But, what will I do with this flower now? I brought it home for him to eat. He loves flowers.”

I was at a loss, but told him to put it in a bowl and put it on Petey’s spot on the mantle. He did and silently went to the couch where he looked at it for a moment and his face crumbled. He was upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye so we went down to the creek and he placed the flower in it and said his goodbyes. He’s understandably confused about why turtles have to die and what happens to turtles when they die and whether or not he will see his turtle friend again.

Ultimately, I think the main question we face when we lose someone we love is did we love them enough? Did they feel our love? Did they know what they meant to us? In this case, did this turtle know he was a beloved turtle to a 10-year old boy who loved his grumpy little face enough to face punishment for stealing the neighbors flowers on a regular basis so that turtle could have a delicious treat? Because, after all, we make sacrifices for those we love. Make no mistake, that turtle was loved. But did he know it?

It may seem a little ridiculous to wonder if a turtle felt loved or not, but it doesn’t feel ridiculous to me nor does it feel ridiculous to AJ. Everyday, Petey was part of our day and he made our lives better. Many people I know are grieving right now and I see the questions in their face as to whether or not the person or thing they are grieving felt their love or knew what was given for that relationship.

We all want to feel loved. I wonder if any of us know the true extent of how much we really are adored? If this turtle was enough to break an adult and a child, how much more so are we to those around us?

RIP little one

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the last couple of years reading about shelter animals and rescue dogs, and the number of puppies and kittens that are brought back to shelters after the holidays is staggering. I’m not going to get on my soapbox for long, but I would like to make a request in that I’d like for anyone that is considering a puppy this year to consider a couple of options.

One option is to consider a fully grown dog or cat from a shelter or a rescue site. Dogs are often trained and do well with children. They can be just as cute and cuddly as puppies and need just as much love. They are silly and friendly and sweet. They also piddle on the floor a lot less. Cats are independent and don’t need much to be amused. They are easily potty-trained and if you ever wanted to know what to do with empty toilet-rolls, now you know.

If you absolutely must have a puppy or kitten, please find them at a shelter, if you can. Shelters are overrun in the cold weather and the number of animals that are put to sleep is astounding.

Lastly, when you get your new animal, please take care of it’s doggy/kitty parts and make sure it can’t procreate. It helps keep the pet population down and animals from being stuck in poor situations.

My dog, Sophie, is one of the joys of my life. She was rescued by a family about 2 hours from where I live and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. When I’m sick she sleeps by my side. When I wake up in the morning she cuddles me. When I leave the house, she cries because she can’t go with me. As I type this, I sit cross-legged on my recliner. Sophie is at my feet. She wasn’t a puppy when I got her and she’s not the most beautiful dog in the world. I love her tremendously and she is one of my best friends.

You can see my right sidebar for Dogs in Danger, which is a site that lets you know about dogs that are in Kill shelters and need a home near you. You can also donate to the humane society there. You can google for shelters in your area and Petfinder.com often allows shelters to use them as a resource.

Please help save an animal this season. Dogs, cats, turtles, you name it, need a good home. If you choose an animal this year, please be a responsible pet owner.

Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

Fighting with Yourself

One of my favorite things about summertime is the storms. The outrageous, amazing, beautiful, loud, house-shaking, booming, scary movie, better wrap yourself in a blanket and have some hot chocolate and snuggle with your honey thunderstorms that hit the South are this wondrous creation that you have to experience to believe. I’ve mentioned my love of the storms while I was growing up in Illinois. There are few things I like better than a good thunderstorm. I like to sit in my car and watch it through the sunroof. Or through the windows of my house. Or if I’m at a house with a screened in porch, that is the bees knees, right there. If a slight breeze is to be had to give me goose pimples, oh goodness, that is about the best to be had.

It’s about my idealized version of heaven.

I do love a good storm.

Not everyone shares my feelings of a storm. No, not everyone.

Not even everyone in my house. The humans are fine with it. Generally, they think of it as a burden to their baseball schedules. Well, with the exception of this human who clearly finds it a delightful slice of life. The turtle and the cat seem to be a-ok oblivious to the storm and think of it as another sound effect to a life of monotony. And 3 out of 4 dogs like to snuggle under the blanket and beg for the hot chocolate.

But that 1 dog…she is an unhappy little noodlehead when it comes to thunderstorms. She’s a much better predictor than the weatherman, bless his heart. I can tell a storm is coming about 45 minutes early. Her ears will perk and the whining starts. She can be in her kennel or in the house.

When she’s out of her kennel, immediately she jumps on the couch and her head goes into my lap. She begs for ear rubbing and looks at me like we are going to die. Right now. She’s serious. Rub her ears because we are going to bite it.

T-minus 20 minutes to storm. Her butt starts to wiggle and she tries to put all 35 pounds of her directly onto my lap.

T-minus 10 minutes to storm. I hear a wailing like that of a banshee who has been caught by a death eater who has just been told this is his last snack and he must om nom nom before lethal injection.

T-minus 3 minutes and counting. She paces the floor like an expectant father while continuing to wail and look at me like I’m a jerk who won’t stop the weather. This includes me looking at her like her voicebox is optional in dogs.

Storm-time. She is back in my lap, shaking like a leaf while I croon to her and whisper all kinds of human soothing noises that dogs don’t understand because, according to my son, “Dogs don’t speak English.” After about 5 minutes, Molly is fine again because, “Oh, hey, it’s just a storm.”

The three tiny dogs are looking at her like, “The big dumb dog just got it, let’s go fight over our chewy!” and the world is again at peace in the house.

After two movies, we realized the error of our ways. We had zero Mountain Dew and no snacks. This called for a run to the Mapco at 1am. The minute the dogs heard me ask Bryan if he wanted to “go” they went nuts. Molly stood by the door, Prue smiled like a madman, and Sophie started running laps around the living room. Each was trying to prove that she was the dog to “go.” Reagan, thankfully, was upstairs sleeping in bed with AJ. Bryan and I watched Sophie lap for a good 5 minutes before we decided that they were all cute. I am such a freaking sucker for these dogs.

This was my mistake.

A large, huge, gigantic mistake. I’m a sucker and I need to stop that.

I loaded the dogs into the back seat and Bryan jumped into the passenger seat. The one thing about late night trips to the nearest Mapco is that the people are always super nice to me. The store is neat and clean and they have a nice amount of food and drink. They aren’t paying me to say that. I really adore that place.

As I was there, I found a pen that had an adorable little onion-headed guy on a pen. I had to get it for AJ. I don’t know why he would want an onion-headed guy on a pen. I just know he’ll love it. Bryan was already checked out and ready to go while I was still browsing at the fountain drinks.

In my quest to become the “best mom ever,” I grabbed a 12-pack of Krispy Kremes for breakfast. When I got to the counter, the sweet cashier looked at me and said, “You know, if you go grab the ones in the case, they are fresh AND they are cheaper.” Oh, lady. You have no idea what you’ve done. She had to void my entire transaction while the man in the business suit (at 1am) rang up his 6-pack and rolled his eyes at me. I picked out sprinkled and iced and chocolate and filled and glazed and you name it. Some little guy is gonna be a happy camper today. Yes he is. AND those donuts were cheaper. I had one when I got home. They were so fresh. I’m gonna buy that cashier a car when I win the lottery. Well, when I play the lottery to win the lottery.

This is where things went wrong. I went to put the purchases in the car and Sophie, Mrs. “let me go let me go let me go let me go”, decided that when my hands were full is definitely the right time to bolt from the car. The other two dogs sat and watched her like she was a rockstar. She went running into the parking lot while I glared at her and threatened her in a hushed tone. Things like “Oh, you are so gonna get it” and “you are the worst dog ever” came from my lips and she disappeared UNDER THE CAR.

Under the freaking dinking car.

I thought I might shake her.

Eventually she came running out like the coward she is and I tossed her into the back seat where the other dogs licked her and kissed her like she was a war hero.

Freaking dog worship.

We were happily on the way home when Prue did it. Prue has the worst gas of any dog I’ve ever known. The windows were up and the weather was chilly. Bryan and I were happy to have Sophie back in the car and be heading back to more comedy with our snacks. Prue let one that was so gross that I think I got sick in my mouth. I popped the windows down and scolded her.

Molly is the only good dog I own.

But I’ll probably let them all “go” again.

I’m a sucker.

Hat tip to icanhascheezburger.com!

Really, don’t.

I got emotional and upset and hugged my dogs even closer. The truth of the matter is that animals get the short end of the stick quite often. I have three of the most amazing creatures I have ever met and one smart aleck cat who hates me. Animals are important to me and always have been. If you’ve been reading, you saw what happened when I got attached to the chickens. This has been true for every animal I’ve ever had. Except for Francis. Anyway, I know that there are important diseases and people give money to charity all the time. They don’t want to be harassed into parting with their money for something like animal care and prevention of animal cruelty. I can’t explain to you why this is more important than health care or scientific research, except to say that when I’m sad or hurt, my animals help me more than any human I’ve ever met. They soothe me like nothing else. They understand, listen and hug in a way that I need without judgment. Sometimes, the things that seem unimportant in life are the things that get you through when you need it the most.

With that in mind, I’d like to organize a small donation in the amount of $250 for the ASPCA. This is on my heart and if you can give even $1 per person, I’d make this in no time. If you can give more, you help for those that can’t right now. I’m not giving up until I meet my goal, so the sooner I meet it, the less you have to hear about it. Also, if you have an animal that is important to you, I’d like to hear about him or her.

EDIT: I called the ASPCA, as donations were not showing on the widget, and apparently donations do not show up for TEN days. If you email me the amount donated, I will keep a running tally without divulging your name on the post. Sorry about that.

Running tally: $30

I love them.

Like many little girls, I’d wanted a pony. Let me rephrase that: I longed for a pony like a heroin addict longs for a fix. If I didn’t have that pony, everyone was going to hear about it.

I named her Bambi, after the Disney movie that came out around the same time. We’ve clarified, repeatedly, in this blog that I’m not a creative person. Sorry to validate that it went all the way back to childhood. Bambi was an awesome pony. Caramel colored with a buttery mane, she was everything I wanted and more, but I was scared to death of her.

My family tells stories of a time that she knocked me off and my grandfather made her sorry. I don’t remember it at all. What I do remember is that Bambi didn’t live long. She was out to pasture one day and then suddenly, she was gone. I didn’t have her long enough to learn how to ride her properly. I never found out exactly what happened. I believe there was a problem with the grass she’d eaten. Either too much grass or something on the grass, etc., but the thing about it is that adults don’t tell children why pets die, just that they do.

At the time, my mother was dating a rather insensitive person who thought it would be funny to joke about the death of my pony while telling me about it. There are parts of me that would still like to whomp him in the face for that.

My time with my pony was short, but the scent of horses takes me back. For a small amount of time, I lived every 6 year old’s dream. I had a pony and a large pasture to ride her in.

It doesn’t get better than that.

I’ve said it before, there are times that little things happen in my day that are funny, or poignant or just strike me as something I want to share with you, but the information isn’t enough to make a full blog entry. These bits and pieces get combined into “A.J.’s Leftover” posts or “Random Thoughts” posts, but don’t be fooled! They are all things that make me think of one person: you.

So, here are some things that brought you to mind recently. Take that however you need to after reading them.

May 8, 2009
Never trust two 8 year olds who have shut themselves in a closet. They are making plans that are in no way beneficial to your well-being or that of humankind.

May 13, 2009
It drives me nuts when people that get honorary doctorates (usually celebrities) think they have any right to claim the title of “Dr.” As someone who is working to earn a Ph.D. I’m offended by this in so many ways. Mainly because I’m working for mine and paying for it as well.

June 11, 2009
Leon: A.J. called me six times this morning when I was in a meeting to ask if his game had been cancelled. (A.J. takes his baseball seriously)

June 17, 2009
You know it’s going to be a bad day when you wake up and whisper hello to your dog and she glares at you because your breathe is just that bad.

June 26, 2009
AJ: If I were a lightning bug, i would just fly wherever I wanted to go ahead and get my death over with. ((My note: What the heck?))

July 1, 2009
Me: “A.J., when you get older and become rich and famous, are you going to buy me a house?”
A.J.: (skeptical) “NO. I’ll buy you a couch. Or a bed with 14 cup holders.”
Me: (bewildered)

OH! And I’d been promising that I was going to show you the picture of me wearing my own Linda Lee necklace that I purchased in May to wear to a June wedding. Here it is. Sorry about the bewildered face and pulled back hair. We were in Arkansas and it was roughly 4000 degrees and I was in the middle of explaining how to use the camera when someone I don’t know took the picture. It’s a keeper! I got no less than 10 compliments on this necklace and all of them wanted to know where I got my stuff. I told you she was in high demand.

P.S. Don’t forget to enter my giveaway by 5pm CST today! Last chance!

Elephants are my favorite, non-pet animals, but this frog may be my new best friend. This is how I feel on a regular basis: Bloated and angry.

Again, my new best friend. Disapproving frog disapproves of my slacking.

What I love about this video is the playful aspect of these wild lions. At the same time, I kept waiting for “the hitch.” By that, I suppose I mean the moment where the cuddly lions would become blood thirsty beasts and rip the man’s head off.

I think I’ve become something of a cynic.