The dog stands alone…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 13, 2010 . 5:19AM

Sometimes I hate being a parent.

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…

Good Golly, Miss Molly

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 27, 2010 . 11:41PM

Oh dear. Oh my. Oh good golly.

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.

1am convenience store run

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . March 19, 2010 . 10:43AM

Last night, Bryan and I were watching movies and passing the time. Lately, there have been a lot of things on my mind and my insomnia has been flaring. Since Bryan also hates to sleep at night, we decided to watch funny movies and pass some hours until our vampiric sensibilities would let us sleep during daytime hours.

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.