Good dog, Georgette!

The house is so quiet today. No tip-tapping of too-long toenails on the hardwood floors. No heavy thud of a too-old doggie body thumping on the floor in exhaustion from following me around all day. No barking - heh, just kidding. She never barked. My always-quiet, very stoic, sweetly loyal little shadow, my Georgette, is no longer with us.

Georgie came into our lives when she was just a puppy - a bundle of warm, black, furry, tumbling goodness. It was a perfect fit from the start - the kids were still little, I was ready for a puppy (or so I thought!), and she blended seamlessly into our busy lives, accompanying us on road trips, camping, everywhere.

Poor Georgie had a lot of...shall we say...mishaps, along the way. When she was newly-spayed, she got bored with her forced convalescence and followed her dad up the stairs and into the bedroom where he had carefully removed a window screen so he could go out and clean the gutters. Georgette took one leap onto a bin full of toys and another right out the window. Too late to save herself, she realized she was on the slanted slope of the roof and no amount of sharp dog claws was enough to save her eventual tumble to the ground. Shocked, we rushed out to check her welfare (letting out a string of expletives along the way) and found her to be cowering and bleeding slightly. Worried she'd split her belly open since it was shaved and held together with recent stitches, we rushed her to the emergency vet. The diagnosis? An abrasion on her chin. That's all. Superdog flew from the second story and lived to tell about it.

The injuries continued and included a torn ACL, injured hips, and even paralysis but the dog with nine lives continued to bounce back. Along the way, she was the most loyal, playful, happy dog ever. She loved to play outside with the kids, and never had to be restrained on a leash, because she was so good about staying close. She loved car rides and beaches, walks in the woods and apples. She was a great companion and never more than a few steps away at any time (ok, she was usually underfoot, but you get the picture!).

For years, she slept next to my side of the bed every night. I bought her many dog beds over the years but she never liked any of them and preferred the plain carpet and snuggling with her pink, fuzzy blanket. She would push and scrunch it around and most mornings I'd wake up to see her clutching it in her "arms" like a little kid. We went on a long trip last summer and when we returned she took to sleeping at the foot of our bed for some inexplicable reason. Two nights before she crossed the rainbow bridge, she slept next to my side of the bed again; a precious goodbye.

Even in her advanced age, she would suddenly burst into playfulness, crouching down and waiting to spring up and run in circles. She could jump like a basketball star until her old hips betrayed her. The kids would spend hours throwing snowballs or tennis balls into the air, watching her jump to catch them. Even water from the hose would make her leap into the air like a gazelle.

One of her best qualities is that she never barked. Sure, when the doorbell rang, she'd announce her presence (until she got too old to hear it), but, unlike other dogs (I'm looking at you, Shade), she never barked incessantly. The downside of that is she also never announced (loudly) her intention to relieve herself so potty training took a full three years (I shudder to think what the floor looks like under the carpet) and she had a lot of accidents in the house if we weren't on top of letting her out regularly. But she DID communicate - she would come up to whomever was sitting closest to the door and look at them pleadingly until they let her out. Unfortunately, this telepathic communication is lost on teenagers so only mom could read her signals. Hey, she tried.

She was a super snuggler, and was always up for a cuddle with whomever would join her on the floor. When she could, she jumped up on the couch for snuggles, but eventually she lost that ability, too. Her old eyes clouded but she could still see into your soul. Her ears lost much of their function but she could hear an apple slice drop on the floor from the other room. She was a vegetarian. Not kidding. What kind of dog is a vegetarian? Meat made her itch and she would bite her feet in frustration. Once we figured it out, the only commercially available (read: affordable) food was salmon-based so her breath was toxic. It could peel paint off the walls. It was a daily struggle to reconcile that sweet, always-a-puppy face with that dragon breath. But we managed.

Everyone's dog is a good dog, but Georgie was really one-of-a-kind. She was chill. She was the best hangout buddy, car ride companion, walking partner and counselor ever. She was there when no one else was, quietly offering what she could - quiet companionship. She was a part of our life for nearly 14 years and we already miss her every day. Good dog, Georgette! Rest in peace.

Damn you, Monday!

Today started out dicey because I didn't sleep well at all last night so I was worried I'd be tired all day. And I did yawn at a few inappropriate times, but mostly I got through my workday without a hitch. Except, of course, I stayed late, like I do almost every day because my last class is scheduled till 12:45 and I am expected to leave at 12:45 as well. And there's no time to finish up, put things away, gather my things, etc. So, most every day I stay 15 minutes to a half hour late.

But, no worries, because I still had plenty of time to go to the store. Which I swore I was not going to do this week because we're "snug" (I heard that term the other day and thought it was hilarious - not "tight" but "snug"). But I went anyway because I needed some things for dinner and also because I'm on staff room duty and I need to bring treats each day this week. More on that later.

The shopping trip took me almost two hours! That was just to go to two stores that are right next to each other. Granted, I don't shop there all the time, so it takes longer to find things, but UGH! Why does shopping take so long?

After shopping I had to pick up a few things from my Buy Nothing friends. I REALLY just wanted to drive home and put away the groceries and get started on dinner, but I knew I couldn't put my pick ups off any longer.

So, I got home with my car load of groceries and saw my son's car in the driveway. YAY, I thought, grocery help! But, alas, no. I came in the house and was greeted by silence which I took to mean he was napping. How lovely to be afforded the luxury of napping in the middle of the day. I carried in all the groceries myself. AND put them away. Much later, my son appeared. I asked "What were you doing?" to which he replied "Chilling." Oh.

Then, the putting away of groceries took 45 minutes. I then proceeded to mix up a fall trail mix for staff room treats for Friday (when I won't be there to put something out so I needed something easy and ready for someone else to put out). I scooped the mix into 60 or so individual Halloween-themed bags. I stopped only long enough to look up a recipe and immediately started chopping veggies for dinner. I whipped up a broccoli/cauliflower/cheese soup and made crescent rolls. Bless the beautiful soul who invented biscuits in a can. Not only are they so easy and convenient, but I truly enjoy whomping the container on the counter to open them, thereby letting off a little pent-up steam after a long Monday.

While dinner was cooking, I attempted to make a treat for tomorrow. I found "break and bake" cookies at the store in apple spice. That sounded kind of ick to me, but I got the brilliant idea to push a caramel on top of each cookie before baking. Not so brilliant. The cookies came out GLUED to the cookie sheet and no amount of chiseling would free them. I hacked away at them and finally used scalding hot water to release the caramel glue. (Side note, yesterday's attempt at "mini caramel apples" was also a disaster as the caramel cooled and hardened too quickly and melted off the apple balls). Clearly, I should never use Kraft caramels. I still had a package of cookie dough left so I cooked them according to the package directions, left out the caramel centers and arranged the cooled cookies on a Halloween plate sprinkled with the leftover, unmelted caramels.

I had big plans for making up themed treats each day during my staff room week. It's only Monday and I'm already resorting to break and bake cookies. This is a metaphor for my life.

Big surprise - no one helped clean up from dinner OR did the dishes. So, I started that process and was busy running around the kitchen when I heard the dog go upstairs. I'm always suspicious of her exits from the room - they usually mean something bad has happened. I turned around to find a LAKE of dog pee on the kitchen floor - directly below my feet! How in the world did a 55 lb dog pee several gallons on the floor under my feet and not only did I not see anything, I didn't hear anything, either? She just unloaded and quietly went upstairs to wait out the impending wrath.

I used half a roll of paper towels attempting to sop it all up, but that was inadequate, and for some reason, all of my "dog towels" have disappeared, so I got the mop. I mopped up the floor with hot water and Pine-Sol and realized that my mop sucks and I need a new one. For one thing, it barely wrings so that after I was done, the floor was still sopping. I used some more paper towels to try to wipe up the excess water and waited for the floor to dry while still attempting to clean up the kitchen.

I needed a Halloween plate for the cookies, so I went into the living room where I had a few displayed on the coffee table. As I carried it into the kitchen, I tripped on the FULL dish of dog water and sent it cascading across the kitchen floor, it's volume exceeding even the gallons of dog piss I had JUST mopped up. I had already used up my paper towels and I lamented (loudly) that we didn't have any dog towels to use. My husband suggested I just get some dirty towels from the laundry so I ran upstairs shouting "I'm so f**ing tired of this sh*t. I just want to take a shower and relax already! I've had to poop for two hours now!" Which was true. I know, right? Not even time to poop.

I soaked up the dog water and the rug was wet so of course I decided that it needed to be washed as did all the other kitchen rugs so I bundled them all into a pile to take upstairs. I tossed them in the wash and FINALLY got my shower.

The dishes still aren't done. I did manage to put the food away. After my shower, I went downstairs, got some milk and cookies, my computer and my phone and retreated to bed. I don't care if it's only 8 p.m. I'm so done with Monday!

P.S. My dog is kicking around her water dish which is her way of telling me she's thirsty. Guess who's not getting her dish filled? Payback's a bitch, Georgette. Swallow your spit.

Charlie after all...........

Today we picked up Charlie's ashes. They were in a lovely box with an engraved nameplate for us to put on the box. It was really a lot nicer than I expected, and along with it, a little ceramic paw print with his name stamped into the clay. A very sweet farewell to a precious doggie. I was surprised when I teared up at the sight of the paw print. We decided to put the paw print, his collar and some photos into a shadowbox frame. The ashes we had planned to spread at Grayland beach, but now we're not sure. I always thought it was a little creepy to have a pet's (or human's) ashes on the fireplace mantle for all to see, but that's exactly where I put the box. One of my cousins suggested burying the box. I guess that's an option. We will wait till all the kids are home to make a decision.

In the meantime, we've been having "Charlie sightings" around our house. Weird as that sounds, most of us have experienced some odd phenomenon or other involving our recently deceased pup. Hayley, baking in the kitchen one night just after he died, swore she saw him walk past the counter. And it was not just a fleeting glance - she swears she SAW him walking by just as he always did, and he was chubby, as he had been before getting sick. Arlie and I have both sworn we've heard his nails tapping in a familiar "Charlie" pattern on the hardwood floors downstairs. And Hannah had an odd dream where Charlie was in the house long after he had died, but he was missing his back left leg. In her dream, she had asked Jeff which leg they put the IV in when they put him down and Jeff had replied "the left back leg". In reality, it was the left front leg, but still. It seems Charlie has not left the building.

And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. After all, our animals move in and around our lives so fluidly, matching our movements, following us as they are being fed, seamlessly moving toward the door as we open it for them to relieve themselves. We become so accustomed to their movements, their constant presence and their shadowy stirrings in the corners of our rooms (and their not-so-shadowy stirrings under our feet when we're hauling a laundry basket full of freshly washed towels up the stairs) that it is not surprising that their presence is felt long after they're gone. But actually seeing them? Hearing them? What do you think?

It's always hard to imagine a loved one "gone" - simply absent from this Earth with no reminders of their time here. So, it is nice that we have the customs and rituals that we do to remember them by. Whether it's a pet's paw print or a cherished heirloom from a beloved family member, it's nice to have something to hold on to. To remember. To keep them here long after they are gone in body. And perhaps that presence, that spirit, is really Charlie after all. We have his pictures to remember his deep, soulful brown eyes, his rotund belly, his embarrassed look wearing a plaid sweater. We are lucky enough to live in a time where we have video so we can see him running, watch him do tricks and sleep in front of the fire so long he's panting from the heat. And now we have his forever paw print and his ashes. Things to remember him by. Charlie after all.

Good dog, Charlie!

On December 18, 2011, our sweet, faithful dog Charlie passed away peacefully in Jeff's arms at a local pet hospital. Charlie had been sick and diagnosed with advanced diabetes, an enlarged heart and Addison's disease in mid-November. There was not much to be done, so we spent the next few weeks feeding him a special diet and giving him lots of love and attention. Over the past couple of weeks, he lost an alarming amount of weight and began to go downhill fast. The night of my birthday, December 17, we decided it was time for him to be put down. We planned it for Monday, but on Sunday, he took a significant turn for the worse and we decided it was time. Jeff took him to a local pet hospital where he was able to hold Charlie in a comfortable room while he was given an injection and passed away peacefully in Jeff's arms wrapped in a blanket from home. It was a sad, sad day for our family, and especially for Arlie, who has had Charlie her entire life. He has been a constant companion to her for 13 years. Here's a look back at the life of our beloved Charlie, otherwise known as "Chuck", "PorkChuck", "Chuckieeeeee", "Fatness" and "Chuckaroobiedoobie".

 He was a beggar of food.......

 His favorite place to sleep was by the fire........

 He loved his girl!

 He sought a soft place to sleep, even if it was a blanket thrown on the coffee table!

 He loved Grayland beach! His ashes will be scattered here. 

 He loved his boy!

 He was a snazzy dresser!

 He struck a handsome pose!

 He was dashing, if not a bit rotund.

 His best doggie friend and companion was Shade.

 He enjoyed sunning himself on the front lawn.......

 He looked dapper in his plaid sweater.

He always greeted you when you walked through the door.

He made a great pillow!

He was a wonderful workout companion!

 He enjoyed a snowy day as long as it was followed up with a nap by the fire.

He loved to run on the beach with his best friends, Shade and Georgette.

He was a terrific dancing partner!

 He was very stylish!

 He even got married to Piper the dog, who lives across the street, in an elaborate ceremony.

He was humble......

He spent his last morning snuggled up to his daddy.....

We said our last goodbyes........

And he took his last car trip. 

Charlie the dog.

1998-2011

We love you.

Something to clean.......

This morning I thanked my husband profusely (there might have been tears) for cleaning our bathroom. It was long overdue and just yesterday morning I looked at it and thought "disgusting". If I were to use this bathroom in someone else's home, I'd be appalled. Yet, in my own home, I let it slide. Why? Anyway, great minds think alike (and apparently some of them actually put those thoughts into action) and my wonderful husband cleaned our bathroom last night (yes, he ruined another shirt with bleach but let's put petty things aside...). I was thrilled and wanted to express my gratitude so I gave him a big hug and a "thank you". He then replied "give me something to clean every day - if I do one thing each day, you know, leave it better than when I found it, then things will shape up around here." And, of course, my first thought was WTF? Am I not doing a good enough job keeping this house clean? (No!). But then I got over myself and suggested some things that desperately need a thorough cleaning. Among them, all three (yes, three!) refrigerators need a deep cleaning, the hardwood floors may contain deadly bacteria, and the pantry is stuffed full with various half-eaten packages of food products and an embarrassing amount of dog hair (the kids don't seem to remember the pantry floor when vacuuming). My husband just looked at me with a grimace and said, "yeah, that's not really what I was thinking" then proceeded to tell me he liked to "transform" things so they were obviously changed! Like cleaning our room. He went to town one day recently and "cleaned" our room, which really just meant rearranging and stowing my various crafts and hundreds of photos into other places. I will never find them now, which is probably just as well, because we all know I'm never going to scrapbook seventeen years' worth of my kids' photos.

His favorite "cleaning" project is the garage. Now, I have never understood men in that regard. My ex-husband used to busy himself cleaning the garage when we were planning for a party. Why? No one goes in the garage when you're hosting a party! Who wants to see your twenty Rubbermaid boxes of Christmas decorations? But for some reason, this is how he found himself "useful" and so I'd have a clean garage and be inside frantically wrestling children and trying to keep the dogs off the freshly mopped hardwoods. Go figure. Jeff enjoys cleaning the garage combined with a weight workout. He will do a rep of weights, then go around reorganizing our junk, then do another rep of weights. Never mind that there's a Pepsi can in the dog kennel amongst the many blankets they've chewed holes in and have now claimed as their own. That's been sitting in there for months, but the dozen or so softballs no one ever plays with are neatly tucked into their own little cubby.

I can't complain, though. Ninety percent of the time, he's the one cleaning up the really disgusting things like dog barf and poop. Just last night, he and the carpet cleaner became reacquainted at 4 a.m. when Shade decided to deposit the remnants of the last three days' worth of Christmas candy he's consumed (wrappers and all!) on our bedroom carpet. But we all had to pitch in with the pet indiscretion yesterday. For some reason, yesterday the pets decided the world was their toilet. I returned from yoga to find barf in the garage and office and poop in the family room and upstairs hallway. Everyone excpet Hannah ended up cleaning a portion of that. But she got hers - in the evening Georgette decided to drop a turd on the kitchen floor in the middle of a movie party. Nice. Hannah got that one.

Cleaning around here is never-ending and often feels like a futile effort. The only way things stay clean is when the kids are not here and lately there's ALWAYS a kid here. This week, for example, my kids were supposed to be with their dad all week. Arlie is in Spokane, so I was looking forward to a nice long week of a clean house, time to do projects, read my book, shop in peace, etc. But no. They've been here every day, having parties and creating a mess in their wake, not unlike Pig Pen's cloud of dust. And so we clean. And they mess it up. And they sometimes clean it up (although not without an eye roll or extended sigh), and the cycle continues.

So, while Jeff's "clean one thing a day" sounds like an ideal plan, it will never surmount the growing monster of clutter, trash and grime that follows a family of six. It's inescapable, and oftentimes feels like a preview for an episode of "Hoarders". But we keep cleaning and staying a half a step ahead of the chaos. And, by golly, my bathroom is clean right now so I'm going to thoroughly bask in the sparkling porcelain while I can because it might be weeks before I see the elusive gleam again.

Two-Headed Dog!

I thought this picture was funny..........the dogs were sleeping side by side and when I took the photo, they looked like a two-headed dog!