When I was a little girl, my older brother had a mother possum living in a cage in our backyard. I was thrilled when he designated one of the newborn babies as mine. It was tiny, about the size of a lima bean, and didn't do anything fun or entertaining. I quickly lost interest. That was the end of my experience with possums...or so I thought.
In 2005 I bought my first house, located in a woody area with lots of pine trees. (That was before Hurricane Ike. There aren't as many now.) The neighbor behind me has a pond that extends almost up to my property. Shortly after I moved in, I got my first dog and a re-introduction to possums.
My dog Sadie loves to spend the last hour of the day in the back yard. It's her "me" time. One night she began pacing frantically along the back fence, a 6-ft. high privacy fence. Up and back, up and back she went, growling furiously at something. "What on earth!" I thought and went out to see what the fuss was about. There it was - a possum frozen in place, interrupted in the midst of his nightly walk across the top of the fence to wherever it is that possums go at night. I'm not sure I want to know where that is.
I could not get Sadie to quit barking or jumping up at the possum. I even held treats in front of her nose. She would grab them and get back to the business at hand. This went on fairly regularly, and I just had to wait until she would get tired and come back inside. Stupid, stupid possum!
One morning I heard Sadie outside, and there was just something in her bark. "What fresh hell is this?" I thought. When I reached her, I saw her dancing around something on the ground. A possum. A dead possum. (I know what you are thinking, and I had heard all the stories about "playing possum" when I grew up, but when you are face to face with a possum, I have found that you aren't always thinking straight.) Well, I just let Sadie bark while I went inside to get the broom and dust pan and a bag to dispose of the possum. Surely I must have put Sadie back inside right now, but I don't remember it. I was a little traumatized.
I got the bag open and slid the dust pan under the possum, and it moved. On reflex I flung my arm wildly up toward the fence. The possum went over the fence, but there was a sound. The best way I know to describe it was that it sounded as if a small mammal had come into contact with wood spikes on the top of a six-foot fence. I was shaken to say the least.
One night several months later, I found Sadie prancing around the back yard, proudly carrrying something in her mouth. It looked like a squirrel from where I stood. When she dropped it, I went in for a closer look. It was a baby possum. Sadie picked it back up and proceeded to do the Snoopy Happy Dance with this new toy. After five minutes of my trying to get her to come inside, she did. She must not have understood the instructions because the possum was in her mouth. This must have been a baby because of its size. "Poor dead thing," I thought, and muscled Sadie off to her crate. I don't like them, but who doesn't hate to see a baby die.
Again I went for the dust pan, broom and bag, my burial equipment. When I came back into the den to dispose of the body, the body turned over, looked me right in the eye, and ran under my sofa. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, right? Really, though, Sadie had dragged it around for about 5 minutes.
I called my neighbor and his son to come remove the possum which had now gotten behind my stereo. I sure wasn't going to mess with it. They finally caught him and life got back to normal. I hadn't even seen any possums for a while until recently.
Then last week I heard the ruckus again. Now it was not only from Sadie but newly acquired Murphy as well. I thought, "Dadgum it! Is that a possum again after all this time?" And it was. I had a hard enough time getting Sadie away in the pre-Murphy days; how was I going to handle this. Long, lean Murphy is almost tall enough to reach the top of the fence when he stretches out. I got my broom. I figured I could swat at the two of them if worse came to worst. I got my flashlight and walked out to the fence. The trees in front of the fence were blocking my view of the top of the fence where they were barking. I peered more closely when I realized that two eyes were peering at me from about one foot away. Okay, I jumped, but what I did next makes me proud. I picked up the broom by the handle, looked the possum right in the eye, and pushed it to the other side of the fence. The dogs looked around puzzled? "Uh, which way did he go, which way did he go" - that look. They looked for another minute or two, then followed me back into the den to watch the rest of American Idol. I will say it again, though. Possums just get on my nerves.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Crossing the Rainbow Bridge...
I just tearfully read a high school friend's blog about her dog's death yesterday, his "crossing the rainbow bridge." In my early days with Sadie, I remember how often I cried just thinking about the day that this "might" happen to her; I couldn't even deal with "would." Honestly, I could be getting ready for school, look down at her, think about not having her there someday, and just begin to sob.
I took her to the vet one afternoon several months after I first adopted her and planned for her to spend that night and the next day to give me a much-needed break. It would be my first time away from her. As a part of my "vacation" I decided to catch up on my reading; unfortunately the next book on my list was Marley and Me. I was at the vet's at 7 am the next morning to pick her up, with my eyes swollen, my nose red. I didn't let her out of my sight all day.
Sadie and I have a special connection stronger than any I have had with family dogs or cats I have owned. It's as if we can read each other. I feel like I know what she's thinking, and I know she has my number. We are simpatico.
I didn't plan for us to have that bond, and when I deal with Murphy, I feel a little guilty because we don't have that same connection...not yet anyway. I have only had him 6 months to Sadie's 4-1/2 years which surely factors in. Frankly, I would prefer to have Murphy draped across my lap because he is so solid and cuddly. Murphy is the one who will lay at my feet, and I love knowing that he is there. He is a big lick just waiting to happen. He adores me. But it's just not the same; Sadie and I communicate.
At times it makes life much harder for me, this connection we have. I am well aware of her feelings about my asking Murphy to join our merry band. "We are not pleased, " her look says. When Murphy does something incredibly klutzy or annoying, Sadie looks at me as if to say, "Did you mean to keep him???" I keep hoping things will settle down, but mercy does not yet overfloweth from Sadie on this issue. When she thought he was a week-end guest, she was thrilled, but living with us 24-7? Not so great.
Sometimes Sadie feels like she has to come to my rescue. If Murphy is particularly energetic (which he is every single day until 7 pm when he crashes, thank God!) then I will open the door with an exasperated "OUTSIDE, MURPHY!" Sometimes he goes right out, but more frequently he waits until Sadie joins him. So Sadie will run out the door, Murphy will follow ready for a romp, and Sadie will duck back in as I am closing the door. Sadie inside, Murphy outside...mission accomplished. However, as Sadie heads back to her favorite spot for some solitude, I can almost hear her mutter, "Do I have to do everything around here?"
Sadie has a joie de vie that makes my life a better place. When she is not in judgment of me, she can be quite hysterical. If she wakes up before I do, I will pat the bed and say, "Okay!" Up she jumps, runs up to my face and noses around. She doesn't lick me or touch me; she just noses around, darting her head in at various angles. It's part of her game. Then after that she goes to the other side of the bed and smashes herself up against me from behind, starting at my neck. She nuzzles her full 60 pounds of pressure down along my back, and then she lies down next to me, waiting until it's time for me to get up. This never varies, not even one little bit. It's like being in the movie Groundhog Day.
Sadie greets the day ready to go. Not Murphy; it's quite clear that he's an adolescent. But Sadie is up and ready for "whatever" bright and early each day. It's hard for me to believe that she's five because in the mornings she's a pup again. She's the one who gets me going lots of mornings. "Get up! Get up! Get up! Let's get out there!" It's hard to resist, and I am thankful for her contagious enthusiasm.
Recently I was at the vet's waiting to check on Murphy's upset stomach. As I watched, a sad scenario unfolded. An elderly couple had brought their dog in that morning because he was vomiting blood. I could see the scene unfold as the decision was made to put their dog to sleep - undoubtedly the last dog they would have. It seemed that the days of raising a puppy were long gone for them. They went into the "special room" and were in there for a long time. When they finally came out and headed for the door, the elderly man looked around at those of us in the waiting room. It was as if he needed to include us in his grief. He had a sweet little smile on his face, but he had clearly been crying. The wife was more stoic as she walked out behind him, looking straight ahead. All I could think to do was pat his arm as he went by. I left her to her solitude. It was a while before I could talk to anyone, the vet included.
I think that Sadie and Murphy could well be my last dogs- my first dogs (that have been mine alone) and my last dogs. Oh, I might get little yapper some day, but these will probably be my last who are what I think of when I think of dogs.
So after reading my friend's column today, I find myself thinking about Sadie and how life would be without her, my little soul mate. I think myself thinking about my friend and the grief she must feel right now; I can't imagine, and I hurt for her. And I hurt for all of us who will have to deal with that at some point.
Finally, don't worry about Murphy. He's nowhere near the orphan train, and we are making great strides weekly if not daily. We will be as thick as thieves someday; I am not concerned about that. Right now he just has so many bad ideas; on occasion he will even knock me over which doesn't warm the cockles of my heart. However, I see some small changes, and I have hope. We are a work in progress, and to be honest, so were Sadie and I in those earliest days. Just look how far she and I have come!
I took her to the vet one afternoon several months after I first adopted her and planned for her to spend that night and the next day to give me a much-needed break. It would be my first time away from her. As a part of my "vacation" I decided to catch up on my reading; unfortunately the next book on my list was Marley and Me. I was at the vet's at 7 am the next morning to pick her up, with my eyes swollen, my nose red. I didn't let her out of my sight all day.
Sadie and I have a special connection stronger than any I have had with family dogs or cats I have owned. It's as if we can read each other. I feel like I know what she's thinking, and I know she has my number. We are simpatico.
I didn't plan for us to have that bond, and when I deal with Murphy, I feel a little guilty because we don't have that same connection...not yet anyway. I have only had him 6 months to Sadie's 4-1/2 years which surely factors in. Frankly, I would prefer to have Murphy draped across my lap because he is so solid and cuddly. Murphy is the one who will lay at my feet, and I love knowing that he is there. He is a big lick just waiting to happen. He adores me. But it's just not the same; Sadie and I communicate.
At times it makes life much harder for me, this connection we have. I am well aware of her feelings about my asking Murphy to join our merry band. "We are not pleased, " her look says. When Murphy does something incredibly klutzy or annoying, Sadie looks at me as if to say, "Did you mean to keep him???" I keep hoping things will settle down, but mercy does not yet overfloweth from Sadie on this issue. When she thought he was a week-end guest, she was thrilled, but living with us 24-7? Not so great.
Sometimes Sadie feels like she has to come to my rescue. If Murphy is particularly energetic (which he is every single day until 7 pm when he crashes, thank God!) then I will open the door with an exasperated "OUTSIDE, MURPHY!" Sometimes he goes right out, but more frequently he waits until Sadie joins him. So Sadie will run out the door, Murphy will follow ready for a romp, and Sadie will duck back in as I am closing the door. Sadie inside, Murphy outside...mission accomplished. However, as Sadie heads back to her favorite spot for some solitude, I can almost hear her mutter, "Do I have to do everything around here?"
Sadie has a joie de vie that makes my life a better place. When she is not in judgment of me, she can be quite hysterical. If she wakes up before I do, I will pat the bed and say, "Okay!" Up she jumps, runs up to my face and noses around. She doesn't lick me or touch me; she just noses around, darting her head in at various angles. It's part of her game. Then after that she goes to the other side of the bed and smashes herself up against me from behind, starting at my neck. She nuzzles her full 60 pounds of pressure down along my back, and then she lies down next to me, waiting until it's time for me to get up. This never varies, not even one little bit. It's like being in the movie Groundhog Day.
Sadie greets the day ready to go. Not Murphy; it's quite clear that he's an adolescent. But Sadie is up and ready for "whatever" bright and early each day. It's hard for me to believe that she's five because in the mornings she's a pup again. She's the one who gets me going lots of mornings. "Get up! Get up! Get up! Let's get out there!" It's hard to resist, and I am thankful for her contagious enthusiasm.
Recently I was at the vet's waiting to check on Murphy's upset stomach. As I watched, a sad scenario unfolded. An elderly couple had brought their dog in that morning because he was vomiting blood. I could see the scene unfold as the decision was made to put their dog to sleep - undoubtedly the last dog they would have. It seemed that the days of raising a puppy were long gone for them. They went into the "special room" and were in there for a long time. When they finally came out and headed for the door, the elderly man looked around at those of us in the waiting room. It was as if he needed to include us in his grief. He had a sweet little smile on his face, but he had clearly been crying. The wife was more stoic as she walked out behind him, looking straight ahead. All I could think to do was pat his arm as he went by. I left her to her solitude. It was a while before I could talk to anyone, the vet included.
I think that Sadie and Murphy could well be my last dogs- my first dogs (that have been mine alone) and my last dogs. Oh, I might get little yapper some day, but these will probably be my last who are what I think of when I think of dogs.
So after reading my friend's column today, I find myself thinking about Sadie and how life would be without her, my little soul mate. I think myself thinking about my friend and the grief she must feel right now; I can't imagine, and I hurt for her. And I hurt for all of us who will have to deal with that at some point.
Finally, don't worry about Murphy. He's nowhere near the orphan train, and we are making great strides weekly if not daily. We will be as thick as thieves someday; I am not concerned about that. Right now he just has so many bad ideas; on occasion he will even knock me over which doesn't warm the cockles of my heart. However, I see some small changes, and I have hope. We are a work in progress, and to be honest, so were Sadie and I in those earliest days. Just look how far she and I have come!
Friday, January 15, 2010
The thing about cold ...or being out of context
I love cold weather. I always have and suspect I always will. Minnesota in December this year was a dream come true. For a change I wasn't dreaming of a white Christmas; I was living one. It was cozy and inviting, and it wasn't wonderful just because it was Christmas. In a world surrounded with snow food tasted better (unfortunately), smells in the air were more intense, and life somehow seemed as "crisp" as the yellow and blue houses against a backdrop of snow. It was all I had hoped it would be and more. Oddly, I never felt particularly cold.
When I returned to Houston, what to my wondering eyes should appear but temperatures in the upper 20's and lower 30's! I was ready for it; I had just weathered Minnesota! It was the strangest thing, though. Here at home the cold seemed to seep through my pores and wrap its icy fingers around me. I couldn't seem to get warm, no matter what I layered on me. The heater didn't seem to be pulling its weight either. It wasn't cheerful or exciting; instead, I found myself battling depression. It puzzled me.
Really, though, we were odd bedfellows, Houston and ol' Jack Frost. I don't think he was comfortable with us, and we sure weren't comfortable with him. In Minnesota he was right at home, but not here. Here we didn't know how to entertain him, and his visit mainly made us nervous. Perhaps we put him on the defense or something. It just didn't feel the same.
When I returned to Houston, what to my wondering eyes should appear but temperatures in the upper 20's and lower 30's! I was ready for it; I had just weathered Minnesota! It was the strangest thing, though. Here at home the cold seemed to seep through my pores and wrap its icy fingers around me. I couldn't seem to get warm, no matter what I layered on me. The heater didn't seem to be pulling its weight either. It wasn't cheerful or exciting; instead, I found myself battling depression. It puzzled me.
Really, though, we were odd bedfellows, Houston and ol' Jack Frost. I don't think he was comfortable with us, and we sure weren't comfortable with him. In Minnesota he was right at home, but not here. Here we didn't know how to entertain him, and his visit mainly made us nervous. Perhaps we put him on the defense or something. It just didn't feel the same.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
He walks in beauty, like the night?
I witnessed something wondrous to me today. It had been a fairly routine dog romp out in the backyard. Murphy was tracking the perimeter of the yard, loping and leaping over tree roots and bushes in his way. Sadie was hiding behind the planter, waiting for him to come toward the house so she could chase him away.
Suddenly Murphy caught sight of something. I am not sure what it was, but an obvious guess would be a squirrel. Anyway, the point is this: Murphy was transformed. Gone was the clumsy "all arms and legs" one-year-old lab puppy and in his place was this magnificent beast, moving so slowly, so cautiously that I hardly recognized him. First he positioned one front paw before carefully following with the other, then the back paws would follow, gently, one at a time. He who has seemed so wild and free-spirited was now a disciplined force to be reckoned with. Such incredible grace was in this rambunctious boy of mine. He crept halfway across the yard before something broke the spell. Just as quickly as it came, the moment had gone and Murphy romped around the perimeter of the yard, all puppy once more. But for that short moment? Breath-taking!
Suddenly Murphy caught sight of something. I am not sure what it was, but an obvious guess would be a squirrel. Anyway, the point is this: Murphy was transformed. Gone was the clumsy "all arms and legs" one-year-old lab puppy and in his place was this magnificent beast, moving so slowly, so cautiously that I hardly recognized him. First he positioned one front paw before carefully following with the other, then the back paws would follow, gently, one at a time. He who has seemed so wild and free-spirited was now a disciplined force to be reckoned with. Such incredible grace was in this rambunctious boy of mine. He crept halfway across the yard before something broke the spell. Just as quickly as it came, the moment had gone and Murphy romped around the perimeter of the yard, all puppy once more. But for that short moment? Breath-taking!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Multi-tasking
I have decided that multi-tasking is the spawn of Satan. Really. I have just begun to hate it. I eat, wipe off the kitchen counter and make a phone call at the same time. I watch tv, pay bills and surf the internet simultaneously. I can't remember the last time I watched, I mean really watched, a whole episode of anything on tv.
I sat down this afternoon to read a good book, or at least a scary book with its being Halloween and all, but because there are so many things I want to do and need to do, I can't concentrate on reading for those things dancing through my head. It's the way I suspect ADD must feel.
Lately as I have felt dissatisfaction creeping into my life, I have wondered why. I think I have discovered the culprit. I used to pride myself that I was good at doing so much at one, but now I see this more as a weakness rather than a strength.
I don't even think it saves time like I thought it would because of the time I am spending going back and forth in my mind on what needs to be done next or planning one project while I am executing another one. (Hang on. I have to go feed the dogs.)
Anyway, as I was saying... multi-tasking is taking its toll. Even at my desk when I am working, when I hear the "beep" of my iPhone or laptop signaling new mail, I drop everything and check it and respond to it, completely losing focus on the task at hand.
So I have decided to declare war on multi-tasking. I have decided I will not be a participant in this particular way of the world. I will do what I am doing with all of my heart while I am doing it, and then I will do the next thing...and then the next thing...and then the next thing until I am through. And maybe I won't ever be through, but at least I will enjoy the process. Right now though, I am going to go take a nap. Sweet dreams.
I sat down this afternoon to read a good book, or at least a scary book with its being Halloween and all, but because there are so many things I want to do and need to do, I can't concentrate on reading for those things dancing through my head. It's the way I suspect ADD must feel.
Lately as I have felt dissatisfaction creeping into my life, I have wondered why. I think I have discovered the culprit. I used to pride myself that I was good at doing so much at one, but now I see this more as a weakness rather than a strength.
I don't even think it saves time like I thought it would because of the time I am spending going back and forth in my mind on what needs to be done next or planning one project while I am executing another one. (Hang on. I have to go feed the dogs.)
Anyway, as I was saying... multi-tasking is taking its toll. Even at my desk when I am working, when I hear the "beep" of my iPhone or laptop signaling new mail, I drop everything and check it and respond to it, completely losing focus on the task at hand.
So I have decided to declare war on multi-tasking. I have decided I will not be a participant in this particular way of the world. I will do what I am doing with all of my heart while I am doing it, and then I will do the next thing...and then the next thing...and then the next thing until I am through. And maybe I won't ever be through, but at least I will enjoy the process. Right now though, I am going to go take a nap. Sweet dreams.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Is nothing sacred?
A man died yesterday - someone's father... someone's son. He was hurrying to work and going too fast on the rain-slick streets. He skidded and hit a tree, and both he and his employee were killed- immediately, I hope, but I don't know that. Families were devastated. I know because his step-daughter teaches at my school.
He was a lawyer - a high profile lawyer in the city. As such, I am sure he made people mad. Lawyers tend to because they have to do unpleasant things, and some tend to just because they aren't always pleasant people. I'm not sure which category this man fell into because he wasn't familiar to me. However, he had clearly offended some people - or some lawyer had. How do I know this?
Someone had mentioned that the article about him was on the local news website. When I clicked on it, I saw not only the photo but also comments that readers had put below the story. One had written "I wonder if they will sue the tree!" Someone else had written "No, the tree was only an innocent bystander. They will probably sue the curb."
Now these were clever comments. They would even be clever lawyer humor at another time - but not now. Not when family members are grieving. Not when those who loved him could see the comments - regardless of how you felt about the man. Not now...
He was a lawyer - a high profile lawyer in the city. As such, I am sure he made people mad. Lawyers tend to because they have to do unpleasant things, and some tend to just because they aren't always pleasant people. I'm not sure which category this man fell into because he wasn't familiar to me. However, he had clearly offended some people - or some lawyer had. How do I know this?
Someone had mentioned that the article about him was on the local news website. When I clicked on it, I saw not only the photo but also comments that readers had put below the story. One had written "I wonder if they will sue the tree!" Someone else had written "No, the tree was only an innocent bystander. They will probably sue the curb."
Now these were clever comments. They would even be clever lawyer humor at another time - but not now. Not when family members are grieving. Not when those who loved him could see the comments - regardless of how you felt about the man. Not now...
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine!
Each morning as I drive in the near dark through a ritzy part of the city on my way to work, I see a woman who I assume is a housekeeper in one of the neighborhood homes. Beside her, wandering freely, is an older, slightly chunky black lab. Although it's too dark to know for sure, I am almost positive he is male. It's just a feeling I have. He never gets too far from her, and she just plugs along beside him, taking advantage of this exercise time for herself as well. They have begun to feel like old friends to me.
About two weeks ago they were out there, but something had changed. He was still wandering; she was still walking. But now a small light seemed to go before the dog wherever he went. It wasn't a reflector catching my car lights; I knew that. This was something different. Curious about it, I slowed down to see...and laughed out loud. Now the lab has begun to carry a flashlight in his mouth, undoubtedly trained to do so as a safety measure. He is sniffing, roaming, foraging and all while the beam of the flashlight dances along in front of him - almost like Tinkerbell with Peter Pan. It never fails to make me smile.
About two weeks ago they were out there, but something had changed. He was still wandering; she was still walking. But now a small light seemed to go before the dog wherever he went. It wasn't a reflector catching my car lights; I knew that. This was something different. Curious about it, I slowed down to see...and laughed out loud. Now the lab has begun to carry a flashlight in his mouth, undoubtedly trained to do so as a safety measure. He is sniffing, roaming, foraging and all while the beam of the flashlight dances along in front of him - almost like Tinkerbell with Peter Pan. It never fails to make me smile.
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