Obsess, Much?

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Our dog, Sophie, suffers from systemic yeast and is allergic to everything under the sun. I do not exaggerate here! A friend visited recently and offered her a wee bit of cheese. Before I could say no, Sophie being no fool, inhaled it. The next day her poor eyes puffed up so badly she could barely see out of them! So, last weekend I sent her to the kennel with a bag and strict instructions that she could eat nothing if it wasn’t in the bag. In fact, it was a little sad, really, all my obsessing. I packaged and labeled every item in a ziplock baggie—every meal, every medication had my panicky notes written in permanent marker. The underlying message being: I don’t care how cute she is—don’t you dare give her a treat! I’ll know if you do.

While I’m not one of those dog owners who dresses her pup up in matching clothes (ok, I would be, but she rolls her eyes at me when I try and then I feel foolish!), I have cause to worry about her health. All weekend long I worried. Every dog I saw made me stop and wonder how my over-indulged pooch was fairing. The yeast is being treated, but we’re a long way from being cured. And the last thing I needed was for Sophie to have a set-back in the kennel because someone gave her a tabu food. It’s bad enough that she tears her skin to pieces when she’s anxious!

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Turns out, I needn’t have worried. Hammond Kennels is more like a Puppy Spa! She got lots of attention and had her own little space. I suspect she spent the whole time we were away barking and running, because she was exhausted when she came home. Sophie got quite accustomed to having the equivalency of a doggie door—she roamed at will. Four days of spa vacation and she’s a bit spoiled. Which means that she’s spent the past few days at home doing this delightful little dance and howling routine whenever she feels the urge to go outside and play. At first, I thought it was a potty run, so I indulged it—only to discover that in reality, she just wanted outside. You know, to sniff grass and chomp at flying bugs and then to curl up in her enormous bed on our tangy porch.

If she can’t talk me into letting her outside, she immediately moves on to other targets who usually relent. Lord help us when she gets to spend 12 days at her spa in September. There will be no living with her then.

Wonderfully Sleepy

Speaking of Mochas in the morning. . .

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This morning’s coffee break had to move location due to a very snoozy dog. Sophie seemed so content hanging out in our coffee/tea nook that I just couldn’t make her move.

Sleeping is something Sophie does very well. She can sleep anywhere, but she has her preference. Up! Up on the couch, up in our chairs, up on a pillow, anywhere as long as it’s up off the floor. Evidently, this is a Welshie trait. . . they don’t like the floor. And why shouldn’t she be a diva in this department, considering she thinks she’s Queen anyhow.

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But I kid you not, this dog will sleep sitting up. It’s kinda sad and funny all in one swipe; inevitably she topples over in her sleep. For the amount of time that Sophie sleeps, she really should have been named Sofa. Lounge, lounge, lounge, snore.

Today, we were blessed with a little sun before the skies went black and began dumping ice. So, there’s sweet Sophie catching some sun and sleep and me clicking away with the camera. And before you all start writing me to tell me that dogs that sleep this much have issues: yeah, we know. She’s very medicated as she fights a systemic yeast infection. We’ve reached the point where the herbal/change the diet routine isn’t sufficient to fight the infection. The protocol we’re using is supposed to be effective—but it also means we have lawn ornament of a dog for a few months. We’re kinda hoping that once she’s off the meds and the sun comes back out, she’ll perk up. . . because those ears of hers aren’t supposed to be so floppy!

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I have to say, I adore this nose. Sophie, on the other hand, is none too pleased to have my camera giving kisses. Nor is she too happy to have me interrupting her nap. All, I can say is. . . dog, you started it; you just had to be in my chair looking all cute and wonderfully sleepy!

Meant For Me

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Have you ever had one of those moments, when you just knew deep in your soul that some person (or some thing) was meant for you? A moment where you look into the eyes of the “other” and know completely that this other is part of you? Like when a friend confesses over several bottles of wine their deep affection for Neil Sedaka and you think, “OH. MAN! Me too!!” Or when you discover the guy you are dating can quote all the lines from your favorite movie and you realize, “He’s the one!” Or when you are shopping in a store you really can’t afford to be shopping in and the pair of shoes you are there to visit are miraculously on sale and then the sales person says, “There’s one pair left in a size 8. What size do you take?” and you jump up and down squealing, “I’m a size 8, I’m a size 8!” and then he gives you his store discount on top of it because obviously these shoes were meant for you. You know, those moments?

With Snickers, our cat, it was when we first met her and found out her name. We name all our cats after food and so when we were told she was named after the most perfect of candy bars, we all knew, “She’s ours!” Well, that, and she took after the huge Maine Coon who was vying for our attention. Sassy, is our cat!

I had another one of those moments today as I watched our dog, Sophie. Lately, she has to be induced out of her “den”, she loves it so much. But this morning I found her following the sun in the dining room. She migrated around the room with the transit of that bright shiny orb in the sky. And as I snapped this photo of my little sun worshiper I couldn’t help but think, “I knew you belonged to this family. You practice our religion, dog. And that’s saying something.”

A dog after my own heart. Who could ask for anything more?

My Dog Wears J.Crew

I’m not really one of those people who would put clothes on a dog (you know I am!). But, as it keeps dumping ice outside, conveniently when Sophie and I are out for a walk, I thought she might like a little extra protection. So, I decided to cut up an old J.Crew sweater that I’ve been carting around (in hopes that I will someday fit into it) and make her a sweater. Oh. Boy.

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There are moments when I wonder what gets into me. A day before a passel full of people are to arrive at my house for dinner, I’m felting sweaters and buying polar fleece to line a doggie coat. I have issues.

So does my sewing machine. There is no picture of that beast because I don’t want to admit how disordered my project room is at the moment. My junkie machine refuses to stay threaded and for the record, has a terrible button hole feature. Not that I would know, since I’ve never sewn a buttonhole. Why? Because my machine has a terrible buttonhole feature. Still wondering who’s on first?

Anyhow, I decided that I’d had enough of facing crowds and cleaning my house—I was going to get crafty with my bad self. And, without a pattern of any form proceeded ahead.

Lots of swearing ensued, because, as I’ve mentioned my sewing machine has issues. However, I did finish it. And after moving the buttons around, Sophie is now decked out in all her glory.

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It’s a little long and tends to list to one side. I think I’ll try it again with some of the remaining polar fleece and sweater parts—but with a pattern next time. Because, my dog is cold and I still like to play dress up. This should keep the crafting bug at bay until I finish my last two papers of graduate school.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Ach-eww

Ok, so I have this cold that is lingering. As part of my torture, I find myself sneezing. Often. Lots of sneezing.

Now, I’m not one of those delicate sneezers. Heh.. sneezers. Say that out loud—see! It’s funny. Wait, where was I?

Oh, yeah, I sneeze like an Ox. How do Oxen sneeze, you ask? LOUDLY. Mouth wide open, inhale, exhale. Make more noise than necessary—a sneeze, after all, serves several purposes. One is to spread the joy around. Hey, if I’m sick, you’re sick. It’s a rule. Another purpose of said sneeze is to elicit some sympathy from you. So, while you’re feeling oh-so-sorry for me, I’m spreading my germy wealth because I’m generous like that.

You should also know, that presently, my dog is gaseous. Said dog is sitting right next to me passing wind in what can only be described as a purposeful assault. She’s fart-o-matic. I’m not sure why she’s getting even, but as everything is about me, let’s assume that she’s aiming my direction on purpose. This windedness of hers is making it considerably more difficult than usual to breathe. So one must remember to only breathe through one’s nose–which is difficult with a cold.

You can see where this is going, right? Because, eventually Ms. Gas Bomb is going to let one go right as I’m sneezing my brains out of my mouth. And, just as I take a big gulp in to let another sneeze come bursting forth–I get a mouthful of it.

Ach-eww.