Firsts

The last three days have been filled with a few firsts and revisits. Me, Wally and Beav took a trip to SW Colorado just for the hell of it. I did absolutely no forward planning except for booking a hotel res and glancing at a map. Usually I have a plan months in advance. Restaurants that appeal to me, sites I want to see. Everything is thought of just in case. Just in case what I'm not sure. I always have an obsessively constructed packing list, too. Not this time. Nope. And yeah I forgot stuff: ipod charger and hair dryer, notebook and reading materials but really I managed. I bore the cross of not drying my hair or having the ipod to entertain me. I even survived without a book or anotebook. I did remember the computer so I could write.
Since I moved to Colorado in 1987 I've been to the SW edge of the state once and that was a quick trip to a wedding in the mountains. So Durango was like a new town for me. I'm a little ashamed I haven't bothered with the mountains in about five years. Sad isn't it? I've been half way across the globe but haven't taken a forty mile trip to the west into the foothills. Surprise surprise it's pretty just outside of my town! Who knew! And there is river rafting close to home and hiking too. But I had to plan a trip 350 miles away for river rafting and hiking. I text messaged the girl about two hours into our trip and gushed all over the place about how she and I plus dog should go to the mountains for the day some weekend.

Speaking of river rafting. I went rafting in early June 1987 on the Colorado River. It wasn’t mellow water and it wasn’t fun. I was terrified and had the mantra of "rock head rock head rock head" going through my mind the entire time. It didn't help that our guide plus all the riders except me were either drunk or high or both. Good times. Good times. So whenever I meet people for the first time and they ask if I camp or enjoy river sports I look at them like they have grown an extra head, clutch imaginary pearls around my neck and screech, NO!

We took a short float trip Monday morning and it was a blast. Mind you, it's late in the season and the Animas River was "mellow" but it was just a hoot and a half to be out on the water and swim a little, too. I think I'll go again but maybe earlier in the season when the water is a little more exciting. It helped to have a completely sober guide and sober raft mates. The guide laughed when I told him about my experience and knew exactly what I was talking about. River Rats are known for their party attitudes.

After our float trip we drove up the hill and took a hike. Five miles in five miles out. That's ten miles, a one and a zero. That’s a lot for me, too. The last time I hiked--aside from a two mile dog walk--Y2K. I attempted a fourteener and lost my lunch, breakfast, dinner and god knows what else once we were at 13k. I assumed it was just the altitude and thought I couldn't tolerate it. Turns out it was probably the altitude plus the vicodan I had been taking post oral surgery. The cigarettes didn’t help at 13K either. As I got older and continued to smoke I was terrified of having a heart attack on the side of a hill. But whaddya know, my pulmonary health must be restored because despite being winded from walking from 8000 to 9000 feet my heart didn‘t skip beats, an elephant didn‘t sit on my chest and I didn‘t die. The hike we took was my favorite kind of hike: varied terrain that goes in and out of conifer forest, aspen groves and alpine meadows. I love alpine meadows. I could just lie down and nap in an alpine meadow. In fact, I think doing just that should be on the bucket list. Luckily, I was able to walk this morning and on our way home we stopped at a couple of trail heads along Wolf Creek pass and hiked a half mile up to a lovely water fall and then stopped at another trail head near the top of the continental divide. We hiked maybe a mile in and discovered we were at the crest of the ski area and found a field of strawberries that were just starting to ripen. I left a few for the bears but not many.


Further down the road, I made friends with a genuine yard cow!! We switched drivers in the San Luis Valley and stopped at a local milk/cheese farm store. We turned into the drive way and there she was tethered to the fence in the front yard. Cleo was prettiest little fawn colored cow in the world. She was gentle, too. My life is now really complete because I made friends with a yard cow. What a summer! Elephants and a cow! Does life get any better than this?

I didn't barf riding shotgun over Wolf Creek pass like I did twenty years ago. Beav drove it too. Too bad about the upholstery over the passenger window where the OMG straps should have been. He was pretty impressed with himself when we went back over it today and he was the passenger reaching for the OMG strap. There were a couple of times I had my own eyes closed this afternoon as we made those hairpin turns.

The most amazing first! The sons didn't argue with one another one. Single. Time. No one acted like an asshat. Not even me! No one whined or complained! Not even me!! And I can always find something to whine about. This is a first for us. How sweet, everyone's all grown up now. Gone are the days of knocking each other's teeth out and being confined to separate corners of a station wagon.

Apple Picking Time

Kipper went for a walk this morning, dragging me behind him holding onto a cord we laughingly call a lead. Actually when he goes for a walk it’s more like going for a sniff because he keeps his nose squarely down towards the ground to gather as much information as possible usually missing rabbits and squirrels he could bark and bolt after. We don’t go very far any more because he’s ailing and I don’t want him to die or anything on his walk. It was lovely in the park today, not too hot (why I took the hairy beast out) just the perfect mid-summer morning. Along the way I noticed two women picking peaches from a tree. We were spared a late freeze and the sunny hot summer we’ve had has been good to the fruit trees. I stopped and asked if the squirrels had spared any. They laughed and said there were plenty offering me a couple. Unfortunately, the peaches were picked too early, hard as a rock but I said thanks and offered some of our apples. Our tree is loaded with them and I managed to pick about a dozen or so of the small and sweet fruit. They aren’t firm and sour enough for an apple pie but perfect for apple butter and sauce. The lady who belonged to the peach tree declined the offer but the other woman who was also just out for a walk was intrigued and finally after a short conversation about apple sauce and butter recipes she took me up on my offer promising to stop by tomorrow morning for a bag of apples. I hope there are some left because the squirrels manage to knock off and take small bites out of at least--I exaggerate not--one hundred or so a day. Another reason why squirrels are my backyard nemesis those nasty little buggers take one bite out of these lovely pieces of fruit and then drop them, going on to the next. Wasteful. I suppose if I were depending on my tree for dried fruit next winter I would painstakingly cut around the squirrel bites but instead I just work on my softball pitch over the fence so the raccoons can enjoy them. It’s a daily task to keep hornets at bay so I’m getting quite the arm if I say so myself.

I hope hilarity doesn’t ensue when I’m up on the ladder this afternoon picking apples for my new friend Helen.

Memorials

We walked the National Mall today. The whole thing. From the Smithsonian to the Lincoln Memorial down and around the Jefferson Memorial and back to the Smithsonian. It was a big walk for these old legs and it was rainy, windy and cold. I'm so glad I did it, too because it was one of the most humbling and moving days of my life. Beav and I saw all of the memorials and I cried at three of them. Which is sort of melodramatic and ridiculous because I've never lost a family member to war. My late uncle was a decorated WWII soldier, my cousin was married to a medic in Vietnam, I have multiple cousins who were in the service, my ex brother-in-law ran the officer's club in Germany in the late sixties (Hooah!). So it isn't like my loss is extreme. I can't imagine the emotions running through people as they saw this and there were people looking for their loved one's names and they wept and prayed over them. There were too damned many names:


If that wasn't enough we stumbled onto the Korean memorial and the artist explicitly depicts a look of betrayal and loss in each of the statue's eyes.

But more evocative is the wall running along the statues with faces which aren't visible until you are very close. At first I wasn't sure I was seeing faces and I thought it was an optical illusion but then I stood very close and I could see the faces which still weren't really clear until I reviewed today's pictures and they are very clear. You only notice them later in the form of memory. Which is exactly how we have noticed the Korean veterans. But they are from the generation that survived the Great Depression and later watched older brothers march off to WWII so it wasn't like them to speak up and say they suffered in Korea and didn't come home whole. It is perhaps the most poignant statement I've ever seen in a work of art. Our shadow veterans.


By this time on our long long walk in the rain, I'm trailing behind the Beav because I'm about to cry and I don't want to embarrass or upset him. Again, I've not lost anyone to war and I barely remember Vietnam. We are plodding along the path when I see a cluster of people gathered and it took a minute for me to realize why they were stopped: The Vietnam's Nurse's Memorial. As crazy as my calling can make me, I am deeply proud to be part of this brave sisterhood and I remember how hard women fought for this memorial to be a part of the National Mall after they have been passed over for medals time and time again. I urged the Beav to follow me as I almost break to a run. I was wet and I was cold and the urge to just find a cab and go back to our hotel was strong but I was graced with standing next to a memorial for my sisters who volunteered to fight in a war most didn't understand and many protested. Aesthetically, the bronze statue is unspeakably beautiful and the tenderness of the nurse's touch is unmistakable. The artist gets to the heart and art of being a nurse. I felt the tears well up and spill onto my cheeks, Beav wasn't sure what the statue was all about and I tearfully explained to him it was hard fought but a well deserved tribute to nurses in war. He had the good sense to walk ahead of me while I sobbed on the path behind him. Had I been alone or with TG, I would have sat on the bench and wept for all the lives lost and the disrespect and discount of the sacrifices made. I doubt I would have been so brave to fight in a misunderstood war. Or any war for that matter.



It was a memorable day.

Serendipity

This week the weather finally cooperated on a day I wasn't being held prisoner in the hospital so I stayed outside most of the day. I'm not a big tree hugger and didn't even realize it had even been Earth Day until yesterday so I thought it would be fun to post a few of my pictures along my walk.
We live next to green space which most of the time it is a blessing. The only downside is sometimes the wild life get too close and it sort of freaks me out.

We had buckets of snow and it's thankfully melted and left behind green grass and shoots of things threatening to bloom. We don't always have marsh behind the house. At first I thought it was beaver damage but then I realized it was flooding.

There is a wide paved path but I took the scenic route along the water. Kipper loved it, lots of good smells and interesting scat. The creek is very deep, usually you can hear it over the rocks from the back yard but it's a bit lazy because it's so full.


Once upon a time we lived in south Texas and it was a marvelous place to grow up. I loved playing in the forest and marshes. I especially loved wading in the creeks. As an adult, whenever there is a body of water, like a stream, I am drawn to it and have almost an obsession with crossing them just to see if I don't fall in. I was sorely tempted by this large branch but I weigh more than I did in 1968 and I had the dog with me. Besides, I tested the depth of the water with another stick and it wasn't deep enough to NOT touch the ooky bottom when the branch gave under my substantial weight.
It is actually wider than it appears in this photo. Here it looks like I could just jump across. After leaving temptation behind I crossed the real bridge, and watched the water for a few minutes. Ward was a fly fisherman and when he would fish I would rock hop (again with the obsession) to the middle of the stream and just watch the water. I never wanted to learn to fish, too much fiddly flicking of the wrist and pulling lines and worrying after hooks in my ass to be any fun; but I did want to wade the streams. I regret never having donned waders and just sloshing around.

The view from the path is especially breathtaking on clear days, too. At first the snow covered peaks appear to be clouds. No wonder Kipper likes to take walks along the canal path. Too bad his nose is always to the ground so he misses the view.

I came home to work, lay in the sun and finish reading a juicy Gothic novel which echoes Jane Eyre for creepy phantasmagorical elements. Imagine how happy I was to take the cover off my seedling tray and discover I have a miniature forest of cucumbers and radishes. I love this photo of the cucumber shoot, you can see evidence of it's recent history as a seed on the edge of the tiny leaf.

The plan was to start hardening them off today but alas the weather has turned again and it is damp and cold. An Irish day.

I am teh Alpha Dog Byoch!

The Mom’s are working and I got the smart cat across the street to help me with the computer because I need some help here, and I’m hoping Mom’s internet friends can help justice be served.

Here’s the deal, before it was warm enough for me to stay outside I had to go to the bath place and then all the sudden, everyone is crying and I had to go the doctor’s office and they are all looking at my tail and putting shiny things on my chest because my heart sounded funny and Other Mom is crying and I’m trying to make her feel better but couldn’t. I hear Moms talking to each other Sea Ach Ef whatever that is and they are letting me sleep on the big white bed without me even having to sneak up there!. They are telling me I’m going to have a good life and we will make the best of it even if I only have two years.

Two years??? I’m a little upset about this. If I survived the garage door hitting my back, poison berries and a car hitting me; this old mutt can manage a little Sea Ach Eff. I get peanut butter in the morning before breakfast and peanut butter at night, too. Hey, this thing with my heart isn’t too bad. And no one makes fun of my big belly because it wasn’t from eating too many snacks and sneaking cookies from the pantry. I have a condition.

And that my friends is quality of life. Sort of. I have few complaints.

So what I want to know if I’m all sick and dying and stuff, why can’t I take myself for walks. I tried that and got yelled at: “Kipper get back in the house!”

I can’t help myself to food sitting at my eye level on the coffee table, its right there; I’m old and according to these people dying. But what do I hear? “Kipper, what do you think you are doing? That’s not your’s!”

A couple of days ago, Mom’s were sitting on the front porch and the front door was open, I had to investigate, make sure everything was ok, right? I walk out the front door and see a plate of food, on the ground. Must be for me, right? Especially seeing’ there was a bone on it, right? I pick it up and walk down to the mailbox where Mom was standing. Instead of her being all happy for the dying dog getting a bone this is what she says to me:

“Oh my god! That’s a chicken bone, give me that! Drop it! Now! And what are you doing outside? Get back in that house!”

I stand my ground, if I’m dying and stuff then I can parade around in front of the house with a bone in my mouth. So what does she do? Humiliates me, leads me into the house and pries the bone out of my mouth.

Last week we had snow and it was so cool. I love snow. I had to wait HOURS before I could play in it and so I ran out of the backdoor and buried my nose in the snow and I rolled in the snow and I dove into the snow and sniffed. Mmmmmmm it smells so good in the snow. Moms were grouchy about the snow and fussed at me for being wet when I finally came in the house. But the best part of the snow? My new stuffed animal, THAT MOVED AND WAS ALIVE. I found it in the backyard. Too bad Moms saw it at the same time. I had just picked it up in my mouth, had a firm but friendly hold of it when ALL HELL BROKE LOSE!

They were screaming stuff at me like: “OH MY GOD, HE HAS THE GUINEA PIG IN HIS MOUTH!! KIPPER DROP IT! DROP. IT. NOW!!! Holy shit this is someone’s pet and he is going to kill it!”
“NOW Drop it now!!!

I can’t remember everything because they were so loud and screeching it hurt my ears so I dropped the soft toy to have a big howl. And they scared me, too. Two years ago, I found another real toy and was in even more trouble because I killed it. Which is why I made sure I used what Other Mom refers to as my “soft mouth” on this toy? Then the toy ran away from me and you guessed it. Mom escorted me into the house and upstairs to the room with the big bed, shutting me in. Probably to give the soft toy a special treat. I haven’t seen that special toy since the big snow last week. But I smelled it. It’s here somewhere.

You would think they would let a dying dog have his own REAL pet instead of the not real toys like my Pounce Baby and the “Saurs. Not these two, they are determined to make my last two years feel like fourteen.

But this dying thing isn’t all bad, I still like my walks and I can keep up, too just like before the doctor put the shiny thing on my chest and said I was murmuring or something like that. I love my food and I love my treats. I’ll miss my boys and Moms but I’ll see them again. And when I do: I’ll explain to them why I gather the bunny-in-a-hat, my moose, the ‘saurs, Pounce, baby rabbit, Shamu the whale, my sea cow and snake in the back yard, all in a circle around me.

Cuz you all are so nice to read my blog, I’ll let you in on a secret, don’t tell Moms: I’m telling them stories about the time I moved the woodpile, could jump high enough to grab an apple off the tree, and ate tomatoes straight from the vine.

In the meantime I’m chillin’ on the couch. I'm allowed.

The Rough Guide

I bet you saw that picture of TG's walking stick and you thought: "Oh my! who knew June would rough it in Mexico" Sure, yeah...roughing it. Between the wifi and the ipod singing from it's little home; it's more comfortable than my house. The only reason TG fashioned a walking stick from a found branch is for protection against a couple of renegade beach dogs--Black and Tan--who have attacked people. Beach dogs are a rough looking lot. Think Oliver Twist in a dog's body. Many are adopted as pets and frankly, the strays who have been passed over are jealous; you can see it in their forlorn expressions as the better tended mutts pass by their wild brothers and sisters.

It's overcast but warm. This morning, The Girl and I walked into town, foraging for breakfast, fresh tortillas for a few days and fresh chicken for dinner. We found all that we needed.

The first few days in PM, the quarter mile walk into town is an hour long event for me. TG is patient with my picture taking. Today, was no exception. I have about 2000 doorway pictures and added one more to my collection.



After I asked in my pathetic Spanish (a mixture of precognitive gestures and nursery words) to take a picture the tiniest woman led me back through her courtyard to her pride and joy. A magnificent creche, a lovely Christmas tree and a permanent altar to Our Lady of Guadalupe. My patron saint. I think it's the legend which surrounds her. You have to love a woman who descends into the desert and gives you roses.
I was hesitant to take a picture of these things but she turned on the twinkly lights and pushed me forward, pointing to my camera.

not a great picture but you get the idea...

Her attitude was quite different from the lecture I received--after a stair picture--on Santorini a few years ago. I don't have a clue what that Greek woman said to me but I'm sure it would set off a net nanny.

The morning was quiet, little traffic on the street, the work hadn't begun on the condominium project across the street. Now my Beethoven is punctuated by a tile saw and bird calls. The sun threatens to burst onto the scene. The Girl has made a lovely pico and guac snack before we take a bike ride out towards the mangroves to the north.

What a rough life, eh?

Kipper Q. Dogg

OH HAI, MAH NAMEZ IZ KIPPR AN IS JUNECLEAVERS DAWG BUT IM NOT EDGY. I LUV MAH MOMS, THAY GIMMIE TREATS. TONITE I GOT 2 LICK PIE TIN CLEAN. I DID GUD JOB, TEW. BUT MAH MOMS TEASE MEZ AN TELL MEZ IF I WORE PANTS THAY WUD BE BELTD UNDR MAH ARM PITZ CUZ MAH BELLY IZ SEW GUD. SEW I SHOWD TEHM, I WENT 4 WALK YEZTERDAI ALL BY MAHSELF! IS VRY SMART DAWG AN WENT OUTSIDE 2 TEH HOOJ FIELD BEHIND MAH YARD. IT SMEZLLD SEW GUD, TEW. I CUD SMEZLL TEH SNOW IN TEH AIR. I KNEW IT WUZ GOIN 2 SMEZLL BE4E MAH MOMS KNEW IT. TODAI I PLAYD IN TEH SNOW. I HAD EXERCIZE SEW I CUD HAS PIE. MAH MOM DIDNT EXERCIZE AN SHE HAD PIE. IF SHE DOESNT STOP EATIN PIE SHE WILL HAS 2 WEAR HER PANTS UNDR HER ARM PITZ LIEK MEZ.

I know, I know. LOL Cat speak is possibly one of the most ridiculous internet memes. But Kipper isn’t as smart as my friend's dog who speaks as if he were the product of a first tier southern university. He certainly isn’t as smart as this dog. Kipper speaks in LOLCat.

I love Kipper, so Monday almost killed me when I heard the tearful: “The dog is gone!!” when the girl opened the door to let the dog in. He’s escaped before and has been gone for hours; the other day it had only been about fifteen minutes so the search wasn't too hard. I found him in the open space behind our house, nose to the ground, tail up in the air, rapt in a smelly treasure. At first he didn‘t respond to my calls and I know he heard me. But when he finally looked up at me, the joy on his face was infectious. I found myself laughing at him and encouraging him to come to me versus yelling and telling him he was a bad dog for leaving the yard. As Kipper ran towards me, ears flapping back, tongue out of his mouth I could almost hear him say:

“MOM! DIS AR TEH SO KEWL! I LUV DIS PLACE! I GAEV MYSELF WALK! I SMELL OTHR DAWGS! I SMELL BUNNEHS! I SMELL DOSE TRICKY RACOONS!“

Kipper is a sweet dog, he means well but he is incorrigible. I blame myself of course. I’m the one who ignores the begging behaviors and laughs at him when he barks for his supper. Tonight, I give him a pie tin to finish off the bits of crust and pumpkin.

In early 1999, I was running some useless errand with The Beav and bribed him with a trip to the “Fish Store” as a vain attempt to belay the whining and flailing because we were going to Home Depot or some place terribly important like The Rack. At the pet store, Beaver dried his tears and ran back to the fish tanks so I amused myself wandering around, mindlessly looking around at things I hadn’t any use for, when I came upon this massive cage holding one little white pup. He looked like an albino Golden Retriever puppy. All by himself, head neatly placed on his front paws lost in some sort of reverie and when he saw me stop, he looked at me expectantly, light blue eyes softening as we continued to look one another over. I was in love. All the advice of “wait until your youngest child is in first grade…having a puppy is like having a baby, are you ready…?“ flew out the window because I was gobsmacked with love. I think I fell in love with this dog faster than I did my kids; and about as fast as I did The Girl. Before I told Ward about the dog, I took the boys back to the pet store and we played with the puppy. (Hey, I’m not stupid). That evening, after Ward was gobsmacked we took Kipper home and a new era was ushered in for me. I became a Dog Person.

Kipper is just like me and Wally: smart but not a great student. He flunked Puppy Kindergarten twice. He just won‘t stay if there is another dog to play with or a treat or a loved one nearby. Why should he? Being the elicit progeny of a border collie champion and a golden retriever champion, he herds, talks and will eat anything vaguely resembling food. As a puppy, he needed a job. One day, he moved the entire wood pile into the middle of the yard. I couldn‘t convince him to put it back it, either. Kipper loved to chase after the boys when they were small and he still plays tug-of-war but don’t count on him fetching and retrieving anything. Nope, that dog wouldn’t retrieve a ball to save--his favorite--Wally’s life.

Last year, we left our little crack shacks and moved into our new-old house. It’s the perfect setting for us, too. Only one neighbor can hear me yelling at the boys or the dog in the backyard we back to green space. The downside to this are the varmits. We have rabbits, squirrels, raccoons and--my favorite--coyotes. Kipper has this stupid bark when he sees a rabbit or a squirrel. Its the sort of Squeee bark of a dog who has just had his tail stepped on or his balls cut off without anesthesia. And then the poor animal runs sort of knock-kneed. Picture the most uncoordinated nerd in your fifth grade class and you have Kipper. Of course, his goofy yelping precludes him from ever catching a squirrel. Poor Kip, he didn’t get the adorable and useful creeping behavior his mother probably possessed. In fact, he probably would do as poorly as Jas’s tard dog did with sheep. A few weeks after we moved into the house, he did manage to get a baby rabbit. The poor creature barely had it’s eyes open and the inane squeeee barking probably made it’s brain explode. I don’t know who was more surprised, the dog or the boys. I think the boys stood on the porch gaping at him until someone finally called me:

“Mom! Kipper has a bunny! He finally caught a rabbit!“

I’m intrigued and wander to the back door. Yup, dog is in the middle of the yard with a tiny bunny in his mouth.

“SO WUT DO I DOEZ NAO? I JUS SCOOPD DIS UP INTO MAH MOUTH AN I DON’T K NAO WUT 2 DO! DO I EAT IT OR DO I DROP IT. MOM IZ TELLIN ME 2 DROP IT. BUT I DON’T WANTS 2 DROP IT CUZ I CAUGHT IT AN IT’S MINE. BUT IT FEELS FUNNY IN MAH MOUTH. IT FEELS LIEK MAH POUNCE BABY. I DON’T EAT POUNCE BABY, I LUV MAH POUNCE.“

TG very helpfully walked outside with a stick to try to get it out of his mouth. Um…yes…NO. He was not going to open his mouth on the command of “Drop it!“ Predictably he ran away from her. I call Wally outside, he’s a boy he likes disgusting things, maybe he’ll pull it out of the dog’s mouth.

“You want me to do what?…No way, that’s gross! And it‘s dead!“

Yeah, my heroes. Whatever. We were late for an orthodontist appointment and I couldn’t leave the dog to eat the bunny because that would be a disgusting mess when he threw it up or if he left bits on the back patio. I was upset we were late for the appointment and I was mad the dog had caught this poor baby so I stomped into the house, put some vinyl gloves on, stomped into the backyard, commanded the dog come to me. Of course he came to me, still stunned that he had actually caught something with all the stupid spastic barking.
“Y’all are all a bunch of pussy’s!” I scolded as I pried the dog‘s mouth open and popped out the corpse. I marched to the back fence, arm outstretched and threw it over the fence. I turned around and TG, Beav and Wally were now gapping at me. “Oh, please, I touch worse at work!” I still tease Wally about being such a baby about the dead rabbit.

So far, Kipper hasn’t even come close to another rabbit. My guess if he ever gets another one it will because he gives it a heart attack with the infernal barking.

We do have a witching hour at our house and it is only made worse by early darkness in the winter. The Spas-Dog behavior begins at about 4:30.
7:00 BARK AT MOMS CUZ I HAS 2 PEE! NAO! AN WHILE I’M UP, I NEEDZ 2 EAT NAO!!

7:15 FINISHD WIF BREAKFAST NAO IT’S TIEMZ 2 SNEAK INTO MAH BEDROOM. THAY CALL IT TEH GUEST ROOM BUT RLY, DAT’S MAH BED.

11:30 GO DOWNSTAIRS AN C WHA MOM IZ DOIN. USUALLY SHE IZ IN TEH BASEMEZNT PAINTIN SEWMEZTHIN AN YELLS AT MEZ WHEN I NUDGE HER. SEW I BARK AT HER TILL SHE LETS MEZ OUTSIDE. BUT FURST I HAS 2 PULL ALL MAH TOYS OUT OV TEH BASKET AN PUT THEM BY TEH BAKDOOR SO THEY CAN GO OUTSIDE AN ENJOY TEH GUD SMELLS.

12:30 I HAS 2 BARK AN BARK AN BARK 2 COMEZ INTO TEH HOUZ CUZ I’M THIRSTY FRUM CHAZIN DOSE DAMN BIRDZ DAT TEASE MEZ SEW MUTCH. I FINLEE LERND IF I JUS SIT STILL AN WATCH TEHM FLY AROUND, THAY WON’T BOTEHR MAH FUD. BUT IF I CHAZE WAN, TEH OTEHR WILL TAKEZ MAH FUD. BAD BAD BIRDZ!

12:35 SNEAK UP 2 MAH BEDROOM 4 NAP.

4:30 IT’S DARK. MUST BE TIEMZ 2 EAT. TIEMZ 2 EAT!! TIEMZ 2 EAT!! OMG IT’S TIEMZ 4 MAH DINNR. GIT MAH DINNR NAO GIT MAH DINNR NAO!! Y DOEZ SHE MAK MEZ GO OUTSIDE WHEN I’M ASKIN 4 DINNR. DOSE BOIS DON’T HAS 2 GO OUTSIDE WHEN THAY R NOISY.

4:40 BEG 2 COMEZ INSIDE

4:45 BARK SEWMEZ MOAR

4:55 GO BAK OUTSIDE IF I CANT EAT NAO, CAN MAH MANATEE GO OUTSIDE, HE NEEDZ 2 GO POTTY? NO? CAN MAH POUNCE BABY GO OUTSIDE? HE NEEDZ 2 GO POTTY! NO? CAN MAH SNOWMAN GO OUTSIDE, HE IZ SNOWMAN AN HE NEEDZ 2 GO OUTSIDE! NO!? HOW BOUT MAH SOUR. MAH DINOSOUR NEEDZ 2 USE TEH POTTY!!

5:05 COMEZ INSIDE AN ASK: WER IZ MAH DINNR IZ TIEMZ 4 DINNR WER IZ? IS HUNGRY DIS MINIT!

Kipper and I play this game for another ninety minutes until it is time for him to eat; or I’m insane from the barking and playing doorman and just feed him early. I thought the witching hour was bad with a toddler but winter with Kipper makes the hours between four and six with a two-year old Beaver look like a relaxing spa vacation.

I was without my boy for eight long years, and the idea of returning to a Kipper free life is unimaginable. After I left Ward, he wouldn’t let me have the dog. His argument was he would get too lonely if the dog left when the children were with me. Oh what--the fuck--ever. It wasn’t until Ward married Alexis Carrington Colby when I was allowed to have Kipper. Alexis and Kipper didn’t hit it off so he was relegated to the evil ex wife's house. Kip is panic stricken if we even tease him about returning to Alexis' house! More panic stricken than when the suitcases appear.

As I was writing this last night, the dog was sleeping on my feet when he heard the garage door open. He leapt to attention, grabbed his manatee and moved to sit squarely in the doorway so whoever was coming into the house would not miss the dog.

"IZ MAH OTHR MOMMY, OR MAYBE DOSE BOIS! I LUV OTHR MOMMY AN BOIS! MAYBE THEY WILL LET ME TAEK MAH MANATEE OUTSIDE! IF IZ TEH BOIS THEY WILL SAY OH HAI, AN PET ME AN PULAY TUG-OV-WAR WIF ME. BEAVR GIVEZ ME TREAT. WHEN OTHR MOMMY COMEZ IN SHE ALWAYS SEZ OH HAI 2 ME AN GIVEZ ME SNUGGLE!”

It’s the other mommy and yes, she gives him a snuggle even before she shuts the door.