Easter Greetings

Oops! #3

The dogs must be walked.  They are both too short to find a spot where their eliminations can occur on park land simply because the snow is still way too deep.  All the parts that do the eliminations are buried in snow that has been laid over with a coating of ice.

Hubby's frozen larynx means he cannot tolerate the cold air outside, plus he is in rehab to try and re-establish some of the balance he has lost because of his lousy knees.

That leaves me.  I have never been graceful or coordinated; some days it's a challenge for me to remain upright (even in our own house) and I have learned that I fall like a tree in the forest -- straight down on my kisser, nothing delicate or ladylike about it.

At the Oscar's last night, Jennifer Lawrence took a tumble, tripping over her voluminous gown trying to go up the stairs to the stage.  She did it quite prettily and I thought to myself, "Yes, that's how to fall in public; just float down in a circle of satin and lace, land like a tumbling autumn leaf on the stairs, wait a moment, and then rise swanlike and continue onward.  The next time I fall down I'm going down like Jennifer Lawrence."

I have been walking the dogs down the middle of our street which was plowed but still had a packed snow cover.  Yesterday was a fairly nice day, the sun shone, the temps were above freezing.  It was really easy to walk the boys down the street, cut over if they were not doing their business fast enough, and then head back home after a couple of blocks.  Both boys understood the need to "go" in strange places and did their business with alacrity.

Last night the freezing cold set back in and the melting on the streets and our sidewalk turned to black ice.  My very expensive winter dog walking shoes coped with the snow just fine but on the ice they turn into frozen soled ski boots and shoot right out from under me, while I wobble around trying to retain balance like a drunken clown on stilts.

This morning I hook up Luie, who enjoys walking in the snow (or the ice or the subterranean heat -- any time, any place, any weather conditions)  and we start out the front door with Gussie watching.  I'm not stupid enough to try and walk both dogs together in this kind of weather.  We go one at a time.  Luie is careful, he skirts the first ice spot on the walk by leaping into a drift of snow and powering through. I navigate the first spot but the second catches me unawares and the left foot slides out into the air, leaving me balance on the right which is skating precariously forward, pitching me, boobs first into the sidewalk.

It's a slow motion comedy routine.  I'm sure, if Luie could have seen it he would have laughed out loud (remember, Luie's blind).  The lease flies from my grip, my hands bust out to cushion the ongoing fall, the knees bend and I'm down.

The ice is unforgiving.  It will not let me get up.  I'm on my hands and knees and I try to find purchase on the slick ice but it's a no-go.  I slide forward, then back, then I'm on my butt.  I roll over and try again, calling to Lu who is now free and running down the driveway toward the street. I roll into the snow drift and try to use the cold, ice covered snow to get me upright.  I sink into the drift and fall sideways. 

I roll back over and try again to get upright but neither foot can find a spot that doesn't just propel me backward or sideways but never up.  Luie, now realizing that something is wrong is standing stock still in the driveway, waiting to see what his crazy human is going to try next.

I roll back onto my knees and begin crawling over the ice and pavement to the front steps, where blessedly the ice has not formed.  Once my palms find purchase on the steps, I can pull myself upright.  I can hear Luie's leash knock, knock, knocking on the driveway but I'm not sure if he's heading for the freedom of the street or back to help me.

The neighbor across the street opens her upstairs window to call out.  "Do you need help?" she queries. "Are you hurt?"

I'm banged up a bit, the bruises from the last fall have not yet healed and now they ache worse, but I'm really not hurt in any discernible way.  There is no blood, just scraped palms and a jarring feeling to my shoulders and back that promise a dull ache that will continue for a couple of days.  The bruised knee took most of the fall and will certainly bruise more heavily but clearly nothing is broken.

"Just got to get the dog," I call back.  Gus is standing at the door, bouncing up and down, hoping I'm coming back for him so he can join in the fun.  Then I see little Luie clomping back towards me, dragging his retractable lease, coming to find out what all the fuss is about.

Luie and I resume our walk but we don't go far before I realize the street has turned into a skating rink and I'm not up for doing arabesques this morning.  We head back for the safety of our own house and Luie, in a spate of deep animal sympathico, hastily does his business right in our own front yard.  Gusie is even quicker as I lease him up.  We get down the drive, into the parking area, and he manages to squat without first examining every twig, ice lump, snow bump, and discarded paper cup along the way.  Soon enough we are back in the house, safe and warm.  

Clearly I do not have osteoporosis and my bones can withstand a whole lot of bumps and bangs.  That's the good news.  The awful news is that another huge storm is headed our way with 100% chance of a huge snow event -- 15 or more inches of snow to fall on what is already here and warnings of power outages to accompany it.  I dread to think what walking the dogs on Tuesday and Wednesday may be like. 

The Actor

A couple of days ago I saw Gus, the dog who has previously been known as the "perfect pup" because he hates to misbehave and usually acts quite the gentleman, go from the bedroom into the living room.  Assuming he needed to go out to potty, I put down my book and followed him.

There was Gussie, as far under the grand piano as he could get, pooping.  It took me a second to realize exactly what he was up to.  He looked at me shocked -- and then I started to yell.  "What the Sam-hill do you think you're doing under there?" 

Luie fled the living room, tail tucked as far under a butt as a docked tail will go.  It's usually Luie who nonchalantly leaves me a "gift" under the piano.  Luie thinks if the urge hits, that urge should be satisfied immediately.  It's Gus who will go to the front door and warn you he needs to go outside.

Gus quickly righted himself -- after leaving quite a hefty deposit -- and scurried out of the living by hugging the sides of the inside wall.  I followed him yelling, "You naughty boy!  You are BAD!  BAD! BAD! BAD! I say BAD BOY!"

We have a small house and it took him only seconds to reach the hallway into the bedroom, whereupon he immediately began to hack and gurgle -- and then throw up.  And as he's doing it, he's looking over his shoulder at me, slyly.  He can't get much up, but he's made a little white spot of foam on the carpet. 

I come to a full stop, retrace my steps back into the living and get Luie's retractable leash.  Gus rushes into the bedroom and hides under the vanity -- which is open except for four slim legs, so he's easy to reach.  I yank him out and put the leash on and start dragging him to the front door -- and Gus immediately goes entirely lame in him back legs.  Neither leg will more.  I"m pulling, tugging, and Gus is being dragged to the door, his front legs moving but the back legs barely lifting from the floor.

Outside, he gets worse.  We stand in the front yard and he refused to move, head hanging down, back legs rigid, front paws curled under.  Now Gus is the dog that knows to walk off leash (Luie, being blind is always leashed).  Consequently his collar is a bit looser than Luie's. As soon as I tug on the leash, the entire collar slips off Gus's little head (with his help, of course, he's bowed it so it will come off) and Gus stands there, looking at me triumphantly, until he realizes the ruse is just about up.  I stuff that collar over his ears and back on his neck and yank him over to the big tree in our front yard, all the while muttering under my breath, about BAD, BAD boys.

Gus eventually lifts his leg and leaves a trace of pee on the tree and we march together back in the house.

Luie is standing listening, with a satisfied smile on his face (if a dog can said to smile) because finally Gus has been caught as the transgressor.  Gus, once the leash has been removed, is now fully capable of moving all four legs and he gallops into the bedroom and settles in comfort on his favorite blue pillow next to the heating vent.

Gus has had the sense in the last several days to behave himself even better than usual.  He comes immediately in the park -- but currently I don't have to call him because he's faithfully following Luie and me around, instead of doing his normal wander back and forth.  He's cuddling next to me in bed, giving me the big, sad eyed stare of love.

I have to admit, that I have had quite a laugh at how well "sweet" little Gus pulled his "act" of "not - my - fault - because - I'm - a sickly - little - boy - who - needs - all the forgiveness - I - can - pull - out - of - you!" act once he had been totally caught doing what he knows is not expected or allowed.  I never realized I had a thespian in our midst.  It really was an Oscar winning performance.  

Exercise

The title is misleading.  I do NOT exercise.  I hate exercise.  As the years pass I have become more and more sedentary.  When I was teaching I had to walk long halls to get anywhere from my classroom so at least I could say I did some walking.  But exercise?  Um, NO! 

Hubby has walked the dogs since I went back to teaching -- well, actually before that, but certainly for the last six years.  I walked our first dog, Miss Milly, all over the neighborhood and the city parks -- but then finances decreed that I find work and my really dog walking days pretty much ended. 

Hubby also walked the boys this summer even after I retired.  But then, in September he got much, much sicker and it finally became my turn to take over all job walking details.  Hubby, being a morning person, unfortunately trained Luie that unless you were walking in the park before 8 a.m. you could poop under the grand piano in the living room at 8:01.  I've been unable to retrain him so since September I'm out in the park between 7:15 and 7:45 walking, walking, walking. 

It took some retraining of the pups, let me tell you.  Hubby didn't care if Luie tried to pull him over -- Luie, being being blind is always on the leash.  Gus, never on the leash, had learned the calling of his name meant you could turn your body in the opposite direction and just wander off.  During the trip to Williamsburg, Gus learned how to rewalk on a leash -- he got just one time to turn and walk away from me before we had a "come to Mama!" meeting and the leash went right back on him until he knew to come when he was called.  Now, he's once again able to walk leash free in the park because he knows the consequences of not coming the moment I beckon.  Luie is still learning that everything comes to a dead standstill the moment he starts tugging the leash, trying to direct the movements of our travels, but he's doing better. 

It also took some retraining for me to get out of that bed every single morning (weekends are NOT time off for good behavior!) and put on massive amounts of clothing and shoes so we can hike our way for 30 minutes around the park.  I had to learn not to curse so loud that everybody within ear shot could hear.  I also had to keep remembering it wasn't the dogs' fault or Hubby's fault that early morning walks had become the habit and now I was stuck having to continue that god-awful time frame.  It just was what it was and I had to come to gripes with it. 

So, every morning I'm out there, plodding through the pine cones and acorns and flying squirrels and chirping birds.  I'm not enjoying it but I'm doing it. The dogs are better for it because Hubby had gotten so he couldn't really walk with them -- and poor Luie was stuck going in small circles while Papa sat on the park bench and Gussie went off the wandered alone.  Now we get in some pretty good runs before our park time ends.  Papa is home in bed sipping hot tea (which I have to make before I leave the house) instead of gasping his way in the cold, dark morning air.  And me?  Well, I'm walking which is a form of exercise. . . I guess.  It's not up to aerobic speeds yet, but we are consistent in our daily ambles. 

Luie's Gotcha Day

Sweet, nearly blind Ludwig was adopted two year's ago from a rescue in Tulsa, Ok. What a joyous addition he has been in our lives.

Christmas Destruction

Little Luie is nearly two years old. In dog years he's nearly an adult. He's behaving in more adult ways, too. He almost never has accidents indoors anymore unless his humans aren't being vigilant. He speaks his mind (Schnauzers DO talk -- just ask their owners) and lets you know his wants and wishes. He no longer chews up expensive shoes and more expensive eyeglasses or burrows in the trash unless . . .

And it's the unless that catches you off guard. Leave him home alone and everything in the house is fair game. Take him in the car, though, even if you must leave him alone for a couple of hours and he's fine. Gussie, of the even temperament and the innate desire to be the "good boy" never destroys anything -- his, Luie's or ours. But Luie, if left to his devices, has a natural curiosity he simply can't seem to control.

It's been cold here, bitterly cold. So the boys have had to stay home if we venture out places they can't go. The Chinese dinner last night was just such an occasion. I had carefully moved the kitchen trash to the top of the stove -- a place a blind Schnauzer cannot reach even on his best day. And we left for a two hour dine and chat with dear friends.

On our return, Luie had appropriated the stuffed Schnauzers from the top of the living room couch but otherwise the kitchen, living room, and bedroom were in neat array. Then I entered the computer room where I had stacked (on the floor -- but atop a huge pile of presents), the addressed Christmas cards, the still to be addressed Christmas cards, the printed Christmas letters, and on top of that -- a huge 10 pound box of chocolates we had found in Branson to give to one of the faculty members. Luie had lunged at the pile until he had toppled it. I'm sure the toppling must have scared him silly -- he'd not be sure what had fallen on him. But he quickly found that most of it was calendars and paper so he happily set to tearing off the cellophane on the calendars and rooting around among the cards until he smelled the chocolate.

Chocolate to most dogs is lethal -- AND addictive like crack cocaine. They crave it -- but can't stand it in their systems. When we opened the door on arriving home the house was strangely silent. Two wiggling, wagging, jumping boys were not there to greet us -- it took about 30 seconds before they both charged the door. Luie had just reached the stage on the chocolate box where he managed to get all the cellophane removed and had finally made inroads on the cardboard container -- BUT he not yet reached a single chocolate.

We helplessly looked at the disaster that was the computer room -- Christmas cards strewn everywhere, 10 calendars for teachers all unwrapped, and a 10 pound box of chocolates with the ends chewed off and the chocolate just peaking out. I sighed and began picking up the pieces. Hubby took the boys for a little walk and Luie pranced outside like he was king of the household.

It was a good thing we hadn't had dessert with our dinner. We each ate chocolates for a bedtime snack.

Fit as a Fiddle

It took a long, long time but suddenly this week I got "all better now." Thank god!

August and September were perfectly horrible months for health. Once that dreadful stomach flu sapped all my energy, I just vegged. Yes, I went to school (most days). Yes, I went to grad classes (every meeting). But weekends I collapsed. Every night required a nap before dinner (when I could eat dinner) and then at least six hours of dead-to-the-world sleep. And every day it took every ounce of my strength just to get my hips to move my legs and my legs to carry my body around and my brain to make some semblance of sense. This went on week after week after week.

But now -- finally -- things seem much more normal. Naps are NOT absolutely necessary. They are still welcome but I CAN stay awake for eight hours without keeling over. I can function minimally on the weekends. We met friends last night for dinner and a lovely concert. I didn't need to spend all day in bed just to make it to the dinner.

Last Sunday I managed to get the 2.5 month hair-cut and perm. I've managed to load up the summer clothes (if not get them downstairs yet) on the couch to make room for sweaters and long sleeves and locate the trash bag of happy pants for fall. I've done minimal grocery shopping and no cooking -- but then how would Chinese restaurants subsist if we all started cooking every meal?

Maybe I can even check in here now and again and write a small entry.

On that note, for family and dog friends -- Gus is turning five this week. Little, tiny Gus -- the sweet boy who came to us a week after Wolfie died. And yes, this weekend is the 4th anniversary of Wolfie's death. I will always miss him -- but the tears are more sweet than bitter now. And Gus is such a dear, gentle, loving little boy. Happy Yapday, my love!

Just the Prettiest Two Boyo's Ever

From our vacation, two wonderful photos of the boys.

First Gus, the amber-eyed beauty who never, ever misbehaves. He's sitting in the back-seat of the rental car, somewhere in Illinois on the first day of the trip. Gus is five.

Next up, Luie, the character -- he's "woowooing" me here, to let me know exactly where the rental car is while I'm standing outside the car taking photos of DC; he's blind so he thinks I need help to find the car because my nose and my ears don't work nearly as good as his. Luie is 18 months.

Memories of Fritzy

In August of last year, Fritzy -- our 11 year old miniature Schnauzer -- was put "to sleep" because of kidney failure. We had done our best through the summer to keep him alive and the first week of August we let him go.

In October of 2005 I had put my heart dog, Wolfie, "to sleep." He was somewhere between 17 and 19 years old so I should have expected it -- but he had been healthy and hale everyday until the Saturday he suffered a massive bleed in his gut.

I agonized and second guessed myself about both decisions. Euthanization is hard, even when the dog is very sick. I sometimes wish that we could perform the same service for sick humans -- I know I'd choose it for myself rather than suffer an agonizingly slow death -- but then I think how very traumatic these decisions are to make. Anyway, both Wolfie's and Fritzy's deaths were quiet and peaceful. Hubby had away when Wolfie died and I had to make the decision and handle his passing alone. It never occurred to me not to stay with either dog; you are with them in life and you don't abandon them in death, even when your heart is breaking.

With Wolf I was bereft. Both Fritzy and I went into deep decline. I've written about this before -- but after Fritzy and I viewed the body (I had to go and get Fritzy and bring him back to the vet so he could understand what had happened to his pal) and had gone home to grieve, I heard Wolf's distinctive snuffle breathing all afternoon, until Hubby got back home to complete our family unit. When we all cried together -- that was when we knew Wolf was gone. With Fritzy, however, all three of us (Hubby, Gus, and me) were in the room with him. He lay quietly after the injection, the vet told us it would be a minute or so, and suddenly we all knew the exact moment his spirt had "left the room."

I was laying in bed this morning, canoodling with Luie, who came to us at Hubby's insistence, a week after Fritzy died, and remembering Fritzy. Luie is a character. Completely blind in one eye and able to see a little light and shape in the other, he is a whirlwind of motion. He runs and chases and investigates and talks. His "woo-woo" is a wonder to hear. He is always good humored -- and he seems to like playing jokes. He loves with great emotion -- but he can't stay still long enough to express it during daylight hours. Life is his playground.

Each dog has had their own personality -- Milly, our first, was the queen of everything she surveyed. Wolf was my lover -- as selfish as it sounds, my biggest heartbreak when he was gone was that no one or no thing would ever love me the way Wolf did -- heart and soul, he was mine. Fritzy was beautiful -- and persnickety. He wanted things done his way -- he knew where he wanted to sit and sleep and what he would eat, and he would go off alone if we defied him. Like me, his heart broke when his pal, Wolf, died. Gus, who came two weeks after Wolf's death, is serene. He is small and gentle and always calm. He does not complain. He likes to watch. He is the perfect dog, actually, for old folks. He loves to sleep most of the day and all night. He can hold his bladder for up to 18 hours with no complaint for he would never think of making of a mess. And then there's Luie.

Sometimes, I think the universe took Fritzy from us so quickly because there was Luie, in Tulsa, waiting. Sometimes, I think that Wolfie, seeing, from wherever he is, that my broken heart had to be healed somehow -- called Fritzy from us and imprinted Luie -- and voila! the rascal came to mend pieces of my heart together.

However, it happened, this morning, in bed, I was remembering Fritzy and lamenting once again my decision last August to end his life -- when I realized just how quickly and quietly his little spirit had left that room where the vet put him into his final sleep. I think he must have been ready to go, having been sick for so many months. And somehow, he must have known, that though he could NEVER be replaced, a little blind boy was waiting in the wings and desperately needed a home and an expensive eye doctor.

Fritzy was a wonderful dog, smart, loving, strong-willed, beautiful, and protective. Strangers were drawn to him because he was so pretty but they quickly knew not to touch. He was very vocal with strangers. He liked his alone time but he also wanted lots of cuddles and kisses every day -- and would demand them until they were delivered. He would paw and maneuver until he would get us to put aside the book or magazine or TV remote and focus directly on him. When he got sick, he never complained. Last July he lay in our bed, not wanting to eat or play or run outside -- but wanting to cuddle and be loved. He let me know in so many ways that he was ready for us to let go -- and then, when we did finally come to that fateful decision he was gone in an instant. His memory, unlike Wolf's, does not haunt me. That in itself is a lovely parting gift.

And then, with his going, came Luie. What a voyage of discovery we are all on! Wherever Fritz is I hope he knows how much I love and miss him -- and I hope with all my heart that somewhere he and Wolf are playing tug-0f-war with their favorite toy, Bite the Man. Meanwhile, I've got a wild child to take on an early morning romp.

Independence Day

Our Loving, Gentle Boy

While Wolfie, of the previous post, may have been my heart dog, the dog that came a week after Wolf died has proven to be the sweetest, best behaved, calmest of dogs that we have ever owned. Little Gus was found wandering the streets of Ottawa, Kansas and though he was tagged, his owners never answered the repeated calls to come collect him. This wasn't the first time he had wandered away and been turned over to animal control, so the Bea Martin Peck Pound took him and advertised for a family. Though my heart was never up for his adoption, Fritzy (who had also come from Bea Martin Peck) and Hubby were definitely in the market for a second dog. Hubby completed the adoption; I merely rode along to pick up the dog.

Gustav is small and sturdy. His eyes are huge and amber colored. His fur is almost white. He is, and has always been, serene but as he ages he becomes more contemplative and introspective. He does not dance with joy just for the sport of it. He will dance, of course, to see his pack return from a trip or when offering him a ride in the car, but he never dances just because he's alive and the world is good. He needs a reason to dance. He does not sing as some Schnauzers do. He is a fairly quiet little boy.

Gus does not hump his housemate. Ever. He does not care about being alpha dog. Fritzy humped him weekly -- and now Luie has taken Fritzy's place. Gus does not care. He simply stands, serenely quiet, as if to say, "let me know when you think you're through you silly goose for both you and I know you haven't the balls to carry through with this stupid activity." And when Luie loses interest in riding Gus's backside, Gus moves on as though nothing untoward had happened.

Gus does not care if he is fed first. We make it a point to do so -- giving Luie who is dancing for all he's worth the first bowl would just increase his demands to be alpha of everything he surveys. Gus simply wants to be sure that he has a bowl of food. He doesn't care what is in Luie's bowl and he does not wander over to nudge Luie out of the way to see if Luie has something better. The humans, though, have to stand guard to make sure that Luie does not nudge Gus out of the way, because Gus will NOT go over to Luie's bowl and dig in. He just wanders off looking sad.

The only alpha activity that Gus has commanded is pride of place in the car. Fritzy had moved into Wolf's position on my lap in the front seat of the car after Wolf died and there he rode for the next four years, Gus was always relegated to the back seat. The moment Fritzy died, Gus claimed the front seat -- and most specifically my lap. Fritzy was an agile, bendable dog and he rode comfortably on my right thigh, leaning up against the window. Gus is not agile. He has short, stiff legs. He frequently has back and hip problems. We've had him X-rayed twice and nothing shows up to explain why he suddenly goes lame, but this happens maybe every other month or so. Gus does not jump well. He cannot get on our bed by himself but must be lifted up. On my lap, he perches precariously, neither of us exactly comfortable. On long trips, I prop a pillow under him so he can lie down more easily, but even then, neither of us are particularly settled in our positions. Since this is the only alpha position Gus has ever demanded in our house, I am happy to give my lap up to him (except on those mornings when he has paraded himself through the mud and I'm wearing white pants to school -- then we argue back and forth, with me telling him to get in the backseat -- a command all our dogs have learned -- and Gus jockeying to clamber by hook or crook to have some portion of him, even if it's just a paw, laying on my body -- the kids now expect me to have paw prints on my clothes on rainy days).

Luie is frustrated by this alpha need of Gus to be in the front seat. He tries to worm his way onto my lap, squeezing out Gussie. Gus never growls, never moves a muscle. He may turn his head and look deeply into my eyes to be assured that I'm not going to displace him, but he never turns on Luie. But Luie is our attention deficit dog and even he manages to move Gussie, he never wants to be in one place very long. All Hubby has to do is open a back window and Luie is off to smell the outside world or chew on the seat belt or find the empty water bottle and try to kill it. Gus will then settle down uncomfortably on my lap, and lift a paw in hopes that a friendly hand might offer up a chest rub.

Last summer when Fritzy was dying slowly of kidney failure, I got quite sick -- first with a drug interaction and then with the flu. I spend nearly three weeks in bed and during that time, Fritzy laid listlessly on the bed with me, sleeping lightly, and demanding nothing -- not even food. Gus, still a young dog, laid between both of us, watching over us. He only asked to go out when absolutely necessary. In our house we must walk the dogs -- there is no opening the door and letting them out on their own. Gus would lay, quietly, on the bed with Fritzy and me, asking only that we keep the water bowl full and not leave home without him.

Gus does not pee in the house. Fritzy would sneak a little leak here and there. Wolfie, at age 17 (or 19 or however old he actually was) had lost the will to care about where he peed. If he needed to go, Wolfie went - and we quietly, and without comment, cleaned it up. Gus came into a house that still had Wolf's scent -- and never once peed on it. He has, once in a while, gotten sick, and had an accident -- but he has never, once, willfully peed in the house. That would be messy is what he seems to think.

The only time Gus has ever been unhappy with his family was the day he woke up from the teeth cleaning to find that nearly all his grabbing teeth were missing. Poor boy, he's both lame and born with rotten teeth. He kept his fangs, but all his front teeth, top and bottom, are gone -- and he was so disgusted with us because now he could no longer occupy himself with large chew bones. How in the world he was gnawing on them with those horribly rotten, wobbling teeth, no one ever figured out.

Gus is a gentleman. He does not growl or bite or nip. He does not paw on visitors for attention. He can bark to protect the front door, but that makes him pure Schnauzer. He is accepting in sharing his home with housemates. He is a good guest when we travel. He comes when he is called. He is never demanding. He will ask before he tries to jump in a lap. He walks perfectly on the leash (while Luie pulls and charges and refused to pay attention). He loves to cuddle next to me in bed but when the time for actual sleeping comes, he is happy to settle on the foot of the bed because I can never stay in one position very long (and if I could only convince him to sleep vertically instead of horizontally there would be room for both Gus AND my feet).

The truly sad thing is that Luie is the dog destined for the temperament of the humans in this family. We are the "take charge, barge ahead" people. We, like Luie, want to advance on life and bite it in the butt. We don't really understand what this sweet, gentle temperament is all about. We don't really "get" Gussie and we don't actually appreciate all his finer points. He's just so . . . passive. Maybe it's because he came right on Wolf's death and he innately go the message that he could never measure up to the "perfect heart dog." Maybe it was because we were so intense on making Fritzy alpha dog when Wolf was gone. Maybe we forced him into this submissive role. However, sad it is, we have to remind ourselves that Gussie is the perfect house dog. He is everything a dog owner would want.

Gus is so loving and accepting and innately good, that sometimes I think we don't deserve him. He has to compete with a dog he never knew to get love from a heart that is forever cracked. But he has managed, with his big amber eyes and his sweet, giving disposition, to heal over many of the seams in my broken heart. He is probably the very best dog we have ever owned, even compared to the incomparable Wolfie -- and he has given us a generosity of spirit that we simply have not earned. We love you dearly, sweet Gus, and we thank you from the bottom of our broken hearts. We will try, from here on, to do better by your sweet self.

News of Luie

The thing about not updating regularly is that when you do finally get around to writing you have sooooooo many things you could write about and you haven't been writing because you really are tired and short of time . . . but now I have really, really good news to share, so a long entry will still have to wait.

When we first took Luie to the ophthalmologist to have his poor, damaged eye consult, they warned us that his eye pressure was so high that we would eventually have to remove his eyes -- probably both eyes. The small eye is totally blind we are assured -- even today.

But the other eye, which once had been so badly ulcerated and had such high pressure from cataracts was voted "vastly improved" this morning. The pressure in the eye is normal. The ulceration is completely gone.

We have notice quite consistently that Luie is seeing things. He knows when I'm approaching the car after school. He's always up in the window looking for me and he recognizes me even before I get to the car -- he frantically paws the window until I can give him a pat. He knows me from other people, too, who might approach the car. He knows when we turn the corner onto our street. He barks when he sees big dogs walking near the car.

He still does not chase balls or things that we throw. If you throw a toy for him, he will stand and continue to look at your hand where the toy used to be. If he's lucky, Gussie will chase the toy and then Luie will follow.



We have been paying quite a hefty sum just to walk into the ophthalmologist's office ($140 each visit -- and that's if they don't medicate) every month. Today we were told to come back in six months. Luie is doing just fine.

How joyous for our little boy! I ulcerated my eyes once over-wearing contacts back in the early days of their use. I remember that I was bed-ridden for the duration. I couldn't open my eyes because of the pain. How Luie tolerated such pain, probably for most of his life, is beyond me.

Hubby has dutifully been dosing Luie with two kinds of drops (one fairly cheap, one pretty pricey) twice a day since September after our first appointment with the eye doc. Today we learned we only need to continue using the cheap medicine, still twice a day, but Luie doesn't mind it (or any eye drops actually) at all. He knows that treats follow the drops so he runs to his pop every morning and night, looking for the full "treatment."

Luie's news is a real blessing. He is seeing -- maybe limited sight, but "vastly improved" sight. And he is not in pain. And it will be another six months before we have to worry about him again. Blessings all around!

Little Luie

Luie is nearing the one year mark (in age -- he's been our puppy since the first of August -- five months & counting) and he is clearly growing up. He's definitely still very active and he still wants to taste everything he meets, but he no longer tries to chew it all up and then spit it out. His potty habits have much improved and if his mama and papa pay attention to him, he never has indoor accidents.

He traveled with us to Branson at Thanksgiving and was far better in the car than on his initial trip from Tulsa to here. He even did well in the motel. The Houston road trip -- 14 hours in a car to and 14 back home -- was almost idyllic.

In Houston he was the perfect gentleman, though Auntie Wendy was not noticeably impressed with his exuberance. Still, he behaved perfectly in her home and listened and responded positively to all commands. We were very, very proud of him.

He grows daily in my heart. He is simply the most endearing little fellow -- all legs and hugs and kisses and good humor. He tries so hard to be the life of every party. He loves people. He loves to play. He teases Gus unmercifully but listens when Gus finally announces he's had just enough.

My heart continues to heal as Luie curls up next to what ever body part he can latch on to and gently snores the night away.

Greetings from the Pups!

This and That

Little Luie had another eye doctor appointment this week. These specialists are very, VERY expensive and this is his fifth appointment so far. It's $100 just to walk in the door and from there, every second the doctor spends peering in Luie's eyes costs more big bucks. We've never gotten away for less than $150. Anyhow, Luie's eyes are showing improvement -- and they are deteriorating at the same time. The corneal abrasions look much better and the redness has abated -- not disappeared but his eyes have a more normal appearance. His cataracts, though, are getting worse every month and the pressure in his eyes is going up. Removing the cataracts is not an option right now because the doctor is afraid that glaucoma will set in. We may have several months or several years where Luie is still able to detect light and some shapes but eventual prognosis is complete blindness. And if we continue to have the growing cataract problem we will have to do surgery at some point.

Otherwise, Luie is healthy and happy and going through the wonders of puppyhood. He still chews everything he can find, especially his housemates beard. I laugh with wonder every time I find Luie pulling Gus through the house by his beard. Gus gets his own back on Luie though -- eventually he will upend Luie and straddle him and nip his nose. Luie laughs with delight!

This weekend is the church's 120th anniversary. Instead of a Homecoming we are having a "Turning Over a New Leaf" celebration. Says to me that everything old must be thrown out and we need to celebrate starting over. Except (and I got a huge laugh out of this) the literature for this new leaf campaign all shows beautiful autumn leaves falling from their branches. Pretty much is symbolic of my whole reaction to this new church we are becoming -- the new leaf is dying on the vine as we speak. Hubby was asked to head up a concert to be given from 2 to 3 p.m. outside on "new leaf" Sunday. We have no portable piano (the lovely one we had has disappeared), no sound system, no stage. Field events are supposed to be going in the same yard where we are singing -- as well as the final stages of a barbecue. Hubby asked to move the concert inside as a consideration to the singers and the accompanist but was soundly and roundly rejected. Just one more thorn in my side concerning this new leaf we're turning over. I'm really frustrated that everything, even if it makes no sense, must be done the new pastor's way. I think I've decided to drive myself to church this Sunday, sing with hubby during the service, stay for the barbecue and pot-luck (I love tuna casserole) and then go home. Hubby has decided just to have a hymn sing outside and not have our ensemble sing, so I really don't need to be in attendance.

Our weather is still warm. We have the air on at school and I usually turn it on at home during the late afternoons when we're in the low 80's. I still haven't gotten out the winter clothing but I'm slowly collecting the really summery shirts for storing in the basement.

We made Thanksgiving reservations for Branson. I'm thrilled and Hubby is accepting. It's only a three hour plus hour drive from our house on 4-lane highways. There is shopping and shows to see and scenic drives to the lake. Eating is cheap and we have a hotel that likes little dogs and will give us a king size bed on the ground floor. I'm looking forward to an easy holiday.

Tomorrow evening we are spending time at the local nature center for their annual presentation of the "Magic Woods." In 2006 Mother Nature sprinkled us with her magic dust in the woods so we could hear the animals speak. In the car, patiently waiting for us were Wolfie and Fritzie. The next day Wolfie, my heart dog, suffered a massive bleed into his gut and I had to put him down. I never really recovered from his loss. By the time my father died in the early 1980's we were so estranged that I had already suffered his loss and accepted it. Wolfie, however, tore my heart into pieces. But this year little Luie will be going to Magic Woods. Maybe some of that magic dust can save just a little of his eyesight. But even if that is too much to ask for, the magic of Luie's determined cheer and good nature continues to bring healing to my heart. Wolfie must be doing a little jig in heaven.

Two Weeks In and I'm a Bad, Bad Mama

So we'd had Luie for two full weeks. Two weeks in which he attempted to destroy every piece of paper in the house. We'd forgotten what a big boy who is nearly completely untrained in the ways of indoor living can do to create havoc.

The peeing and the pooping training were going fairly well. The wild chases of poor Gus were being handled, mostly by Gus, who was learning to give back as good as he got. But the chewing of everything that would go into his big gaping mouth -- now that we were not handling as well. Luie's need to put everything that could be shredded into his mouth was so incredibly pervasive that we couldn't contain it.

And then Hubby had to go to East St. Louis on some business over a Friday night and leave Gus and Luie in my "worn out from teaching" hands. We handled dinner just fine. We did the walk for pooping in the park after dinner just fine. We did the bed-time walk just fine. Except I was really tired so I went to bed at 8:30 p.m. Luie usually gets a 10:30 to 11:00 p.m. walk. Instead I slept right on through.

When I had gotten home from school that day I left my school bag on the floor as usual. It's a big rolling bag which no normal Schnauzer could ever get into. And in it I had forgotten that Hubby had put six huge candy bars purchased from a couple of students selling things for the soccer team.

Luie, ready for some action, around 11 p.m. or so had jumped out of bed, found my school bag, stood up on his incredibly long hind legs and gotten into it. Out came nearly a pound of ham, a huge slab of cheese, and the candy bars. And he proceeded to chow down.

Yes, of course, I was at fault. I should have put the lunch things that hadn't been eaten that day in the frig. I should have realized that Luie would be called by the food. In my defense, I was exhausted, I had completely forgotten the food was there, and . . . it had been two full years since I'd had a Schnauzer in the house who claimed every piece of food he could find.

So Luie had a supreme feast. Gus remained sleeping by my side -- this I know because he can't get back on the bed by himself. I woke up at 1 p.m. to find Luie bouncing off the ceiling. I stumbled into the bathroom (for the usual 1 a.m. relief) and watched Luie frantically running circles in the house. At least by then I had had enough sleep to be suspicious.

In the living room I found the school tote -- still upright but empty. All six -- huge -- candy bars, all the ham, and all the cheese missing. I looked at Luie dumbfounded. How had one skinny blind Schnauzer pup managed to eat all that?

And then I realized just how much chocolate he could have ingested and my heart sank. Luie continued to run zigzags around my legs, skidding past the kitchen tile, tearing into the bedroom to see if Gus would jump off the bed, and then leaping on four legs back to me.

Digging around in the living room I found five of the chocolate bars intact. Only one had been completely unwrapped and devoured. Sighing, with relief and exasperation, I hooked Luie to his leash, got Gus off the bed, threw on my oldest jeans with a tee, stuffed my feet without socks into my brand new athletic shoes, and out the door we went, off to the park.

Around and around the track in the park we trotted Luie. It was so dark we couldn't see the path but still we stumbled on. Did I worry about muggers and rapists? Well, a little -- but little Luie kept the pace at a steady trot. Gus dragged along behind, wondering why his peaceful night had been so rudely interrupted.

I hoped Luie would throw up but he seemed to feel super fine, just exhibiting a very sugary intensively high. I hoped he would poop but nothing passed through him. He did pee a lot. After 45 minutes or so of this, I stuffed both boys back in the car and we went home, Luie doing the dance of joy, hoping from front to back seat with abandon.

Back in the house, Luie was intend on getting to the water bowl which to his digust he had emptied before we left the house. Before I could even get the bowl to the faucte and to my amazement, up he stood on his hind legs and preceded to drink in huge gulps from the toilet bowl. Even big, old Wolf who could do most anything had never managed to get his body far enough into the toilet to get water! Eventually his thirst slackened, off he charged to gather toys.

Back in the bedroom, I stood, arms akimbo looking at little Luie. The initial vet bill had not been cheap. We had an opthomalogist appointment on Tuesday which was $100 just to walk in the door. Did Luie need the emergency vet now to make sure the chocolate hadn't done any damage?

Luie continue to bounce happily from room to room, dragging his toys, the dirty underwear, the foil from all that chocolate around with him. I went to the kitchen and got the long cloth leash and put it on him and then I crawled with Gus back into our warm, safe bed. Luie continued to dance -- but this time only a short distance from us because he was tethered to my wrist. If he had a seizure I figured I could feel it. If he got sick I hoped he would be near enough so I would know.

From 1 a.m. Gus and I lightly dozed, Luie tugging the leash to its maximum, me tugging him back inside the bedroom door. All the rest of the night, Luie kept up the dance. At 8:30 a.m. he flinally fell into a deep, deep sleep at the foot of the bed.

Never once was the boy sick. When Hubby came through the door at 5 p.m., I pushed both dogs at him. I promised him a home cooked dinner if he'd only get Luie to finally poop in the park. Off he went, two dogs happily trotting beside him. But it wasn't until Sunday morning that little Luie finally did the pooping -- three huge piles by report.

Seems our boy can ingest just about anything . . . just like the Wolfman before him. I've learned, yet again, that all food is fair game. And we're all learned that being blind just isn't much of a handicap if you have the will and the agility.

A Healing Heart

Nothing like a new puppy to help heal a heart shattered pretty completely in 2006.

When Wolfie died, a part of me was lost. I loved that dog to distraction. I've never really gotten over his loss. He was such a pal. He gave me so much validation. And with his passing, my constant companion, the little guy who loved me with his whole being and proved it every minute of his life, left my heart bereft.

Fritzy was beautiful. He was smart and he was assured of himself. He gave sweet love when he felt like it and he could growl under his breath when he wanted to be left alone, which was about 50% of the time. He loved us. But he was his own little man and he wanted to be top dog. Periodically I had to turn him over on his back and spread eagle him to remind him that he wasn't the dude in charge. He didn't even come second, which he was quite sure really was his place in this household.

Gus is serene. He doesn't get bothered by things. He wants to be loved and he gives sweet love in return, but it's a quiet, peaceful kind of love. Gus doesn't go for the whole-hearted expression of pure unadulaterated love.

The new pup, Luie, has created quite a stir in our lives. He's full of piss and vinegar. He gets into everything he can reach -- and like Wolf, he's quite a tall boy. Yet there's something about him that is so special, something so giving and loving and funny that his presence in our household is healing the wounds left by Wolf's passing. He's definitely not Wolf. He's his own little presence. His funny little mannerisms and his antics tickle me no end. I'm always laughing. He's not stoic, he's not trying to be in charge -- he's just trying to live life to its fullest measure. And he wants you to join him on the ride.

Three weeks he's been with us. Every day has been both a challenge and a treasure. He's mostly blind and he always will be but he doesn't mind. He likes what he can see and what he can't he'll sniff and paw at until he understands what it can do to him or for him. He's always, always happy. His happiness has spread into my heart and is healing it, piece by piece.

I'll always miss Wolfie every day for the rest of my life. I'll miss Fritzy and Miss Milly, too, maybe not in the same heart crushing way but I'll miss their little quirks and delights. But Luie has come to me, full of spunk, disabled but charging forward, and he has given me a new spark.

Can You See Me Now?

Hubby took the proverbial bull by the horns and got Luie an appointment with the ophthalmologist. Our vet recommended one in the 'burbs and our friend who works at the local nature center concurred that this vet hospital had the very best. (Well, it should be good -- $95 just to walk into the waiting room!).

After school yesterday we took Luie (and Gus) to see the eye doctor. Lots of tests. Lots of drops. A maze of waste baskets set up and Luie had to go through them. In the light he found Gus immediately. In the dark he was completely stymied.

The diagnosis is Luie's left eye is a small eye which is called microphtalmia. Both eyes have corneal dystrophy. The right eye also has cataracts and is currently ulcerated. He is blind in the small left eye and only has limited vision in the right but he can discern light. He is not frightened by what he cannot see and is happy to bump into things. He is not afraid of people and once he is used to where things are normally placed, he jumps and chases and plays vigorously.

We are treating the ulceration with antibiotic eye drops. Another eye drop that must be ordered from a specialty clinic will use calcium to help deter further deterioration and separation. The cataracts will be watched closely. He may get worse. In fact, he most certainly will as he ages, but for right now, he is not in pain and the eyes don't bother him greatly.

In all other aspects, Ludwig is hale, healthy, and full of good cheer. He is pretty good about peeing and pooping outside as long as we get him out immediately after he's eaten. He loves to eat! He loves to chew even more. He is still very, very much a puppy! And what a happy little pup he is. Everyone that comes in contact, immediately falls in love with him because he is so outgoing and demonstrative. He is happiest giving kisses -- and those of you who know Schnauzers, spreading kisses around is not the norm for this rather selective breed. In the past two weeks he has gained a pound, destroyed a trash bag of styrofoam containers and spread tiny pieces of them from the garage through the living room, and given Gus the most intense workout of his life. He has also lightened my heart considerably.

As the World Turns

Hubby couldn't take the emptiness of the house and especially the car but he tried to blame little Gus, saying he was so lonely running by himself in the park. So he went on line and looked at all the miniature Schnauzers the rescue organizations had up for adoption. He also checked out Scotties and Pekes and Doxies. He settled finally on three young dogs: a Scottie/ Schnauzer mix, a dog in Florida who I decreed was too far away, and an 8 month old in Oklahoma. He saw the Scottie who was huge and would have eaten little Gus in one mouthful. We talked to the rescue in Oklahoma and Hubby fell in long-distance love. Tuesday we picked up Skylar -- renamed Ludwig -- in a ten hour round trip drive. Yesterday he was wild and crazy, today he's mellowing out, probably due to the sweet influence of little Gus.

Here is Skylar, the rescue:

And here is his story:

• Skylar was found on the side of a highway. The passerby noticed him because he almost got hit by a car. Though we believe he was only about 8-9 months old, his hair was overgrown and matted. After cleaning him up, and after two vet visits, we surmised that his left eyeball is smaller than normal. It is probably a birth defect.

• We took him to a specialist three weeks ago. The final assessment was that he most likely does not have vision out of that eye. The right eye appears to be normal and functioning.

• So what does this mean. Well, he gets along just fine. But every once in awhile he appears to be clumsy.... jumps on the sofa but misjudges the distance for the leap, jumped off the sofa after a toy and rammed right into a brick wall, when you offer him food out of your hand, it can be right in front of him and he doesn't see it, etc. But you really cannot tell anything is wrong with him 99% of the time.

• He is darling, cute, spunky, friendly, playful... everything a Schnauzer should be. He gets along well with all the other dogs in the house (all 7 adults, most of which are males of varying ages). He can use a doggie door, and he is crate trained. He is just SUPER sweet!

We have renamed him Ludwig with the rescue's permission, and we call him Luie. His first vet appointment is Friday at 5 p.m. We'll know more about the eye then. By the time we picked him up, the rescue was afraid he was nearly blind in both eyes. They held his little head and made us stare into the bad eye and then look at the "better" eye so we would be sure to understand his problems.

Initially Luie was very afraid of us (people) though quite fearless in the car and with Gus. We think it was because he really couldn't tell what we looked like or if we were threatening him Last night he adjusted easily to the house and spent a quiet, restful night. He's pooped and peed in the park. He's eaten and drunk. He's played with Gus until Gus cried for relief.

Luie is just perfect! We are so fortunate! Hubby picked a real winner. We needed a Luie and Ludwig needs us.

Cold Comfort

Dearest Itty Bitty Pretty Fritty:

Last night was hard. By the time we got home from the vet's, I was second guessing our decision to put you to sleep. I disparately wanted to undo the deed, gather up our little boy, and hold you close. In fact, my misery started the moment I pulled out the credit card to pay for the final injection and the cremation. I asked the vet tech if you were still laid out in the examining room and could I go hold you one last time, but you had already been removed to their surgery. They told me I could go see you if I wanted but I left without holding you.

Most of last night I sat huddled in misery, constantly crying. Gus lay at my feet or tried to cuddle with me on the bed. I didn't reject him exactly -- but one dog certainly does not replace another. You couldn't comfort me when Wolf died. Now it was Gussie's turn to feel my pain.

At midnight I had finally exhausted myself into a sound sleep. I do not know if I dreamed of you. I don't remember doing so. I only know that at 3 a.m. I suddenly woke up and KNEW in my heart -- not just my head -- that we had done what you wanted us to do. You were no longer sick and tired and worn out. You had really wanted us to help you stop feeling so bad.

On Monday night I knew that you were telling me to let you go. On the Tuesday drive to the vet's, when you had vomited in the car from the heat and the misery in your little tummy, you had lifted up those huge brown eyes and told me how awful you felt. But once the vet started telling me about more hydration and starting new IV's and what they could do to try to bring you around (again) and long vet stays in strange cages, I began to second guess myself.

I had finally broken into the recital of options and said to the vet, "Don't you think he's telling us he's really tired and ready to stop all this?" And then finally they had offered up the deadly option. Afterwards, they all assured us we had done the right thing for you. "He had lost more than a third of his body weight since May. He wouldn't eat. He couldn't keep food down anymore. He was weak and tired and sad. He didn't want to visit the park and his buddies any more. He couldn't play. Even sleeping was becoming harder because he couldn't find a place of real comfort." Oh, yes, they assured me finally, this was the best choice.

Yet, if I had been willing to spend another $800 or so could I have kept you alive for at least another three weeks? So did I put you down simply to save the money? That was why I cried and cried and cried last night. Had I scarified my loving boy for money?

So, one more time, my little boy, you came through for me. You somehow let me know during the night that I had been right in my belief that you had clearly communicated to me that you didn't want to feel so sick any more. That you were tired and worn out and I needed to fix this problem even if that broke my heart. It wasn't money that made up my mind -- it was Fritzy, telling me you were done and to please help stop the misery.

Am I still crying? Of course. But my heart is easier in the tears now.

Thank you, Little Man, for all the love and joy and loyalty you gave to me and your papa and Wolfie and then Gus. Thank you for your life. I will always love you. I will always miss you. If there's a heaven, my little boy, you had better be right there, waiting to greet me and give me a nudge with that lovely bearded chin so I will rub your belly. I will have treats just for you. Keep the faith with Wolfie, okay? Because you and Wolf are the two I will be looking for first thing when I cross over . . .

With deepest love and thanks -- your mama