three dogs and a house

What a strange place this is for me, this Sally's House: the home where all three of my dogs resided. (Only Henry knew the Edge, only Millie will know Steffi's House. But all three lived here, in this construction site of a neighborhood, all three happy to have the space, the couches, the love. 

They say you should not get a new dog until you've worked through your grief for the old one. Old ones, plural in my case, because of course, there were two. And I was ready to turn my attention fully to funny little Millie until the call that came yesterday asking me to assist with Sadey. That call plunged me back into deep grief and gloom that comes with the loss of a dog. My afternoon visit with her was beautiful and therefore horrible. It unleashed all that I had managed to padlock within me.

And then the wait for the night call, asking me to come assist began. 

Ed left just before midnight. I sent him home. No point in staying. Indeed, Millie would wonder why she had to be locked up if he's sitting on the couch nearby. At 1:30 a.m., Mike, the designated driver, called and I went over to where Sadey was staying. I was to do the ultimate betrayal: coax her into a place where she did not want to be. You cannot tell a dog -- I am giving you a chance to have a happy life. Take it! Please, take it! Instead, you have to cajole, bribe and ultimately use your strongest weapon -- their love for you, to get them to go to a miserable place. And you have to force yourself to ignore the bewilderment in their eyes and heart as you close the door on them. Wait, aren't we going home? Together?

It completely broke me to do this. I was wild with grief. Very close to grabbing her and taking her home with me, and who cares what the consequences of that move would be! A selfish feeling of loss, of the horror of saying goodbye to her in this way.

Mike, burly old Mike had wet eyes too. He held me in a long hug. I felt grateful. Here was someone who really understood. 

Yes, I know: Sadey is actually a lucky girl. From the day they found her in the gutter back in early November, she has had at least a half a dozen people concerning themselves with making her well, happy, cared for. Loved. Even now, there were the people caring for her here, and in Texas, waiting for her. And of course me, helping her along, loving her with every ounce of my being. For every Sadey, there are a dozen dogs ignored, neglected, forgotten, abused by humans. True, she may not manage in her new setting. And I'm left with that awful, awful question -- could have I turned her around? Should have I taken that risk she posed (to my family, in the neighborhood) and tried anyway? Again, selfish thoughts. Sophie's choices, all of them. Whether to give up some, in order to save others. I chose what I still believe is the path that gives her a real chance at a good life. And yet I chose a promise of safety over helping her here, in Sally's House. A place she called home. 

Sadey, I love you so much. Do well in Texas. Please, do well, my precious girl!

Needless to say, it was not a good drive home. It was not a good night. 

But, having had kids and now grandkids, having stood before a class of 80 after an especially bad day, I know how to put on that face that completely hides what's in the heart. Besides, my love for little Millie is genuine and strong. Being happy for her will soon morph into being happy with her.

 

In the morning, Millie and I resume our routines. Even though I haven't put thoughts of Sadey aside. I think of her, cry for her, miss her so much, light that candle that helps me keep her right there with me, in the house of three dogs.

Frequent longer walks are helping greatly with potty training, so I continue in that vein. 

At home, I watch Millie play. I'm learning her style and mindset. There is definitely an impish tease in her. She plays with her toys. That doesn't get enough attention from me. She climbs up onto my computer table and grabs my eyeglass case. Millie, that's not a toy! I take it from her and push it further back. Two minutes later she climbs up and grabs it again all the while looking to see my reaction. I take it once more, with a firmer "no, not a toy," and a hand over of a substitute. I turn my back for a minute and she goes after it a third time, laughing, no really, laughing at me as I get up to retrieve the "not a toy" felt case.

(what, do you expect me to play with a snowman in April?!)

 

 

Later in the morning I get a call from the vet that Millie tested positive for a parasite. Same one that Henry had when I first got him in October. This despite the deworming Millie went through just before coming to my home. Frankly, it's such a relief! I have a ready explanation for her bathroom behavior. The parasite can be eradicated with meds. Sensitive stomach or anxiety or allergies would have been harder to treat. And it explains, too, why she is so skinny. The vet commented on this too -- you can feel too many of her ribs through all that fur. Our big outing this morning is, therefore, to the clinic once again. Incredible how much I have needed my vet for all three dogs!

 

Millie and I stop by the farmette. I need to empty the compost bucket and take my tax records to their proper resting place. And I want to see Ed. Just to soak in his calm. 

Millie loves exploring the farmette lands and I have to say, I find it a restful and soothing place to walk with her as well. So much finer than the mowed strips of lawn in my residential neighborhood. Granted, the lawn is functional. It meets her needs, but at the farmette we can explore the different textures, twigs, scents.

Ed and I put up the toddler fence I once used in the farmhouse for the grandkids. We make an enclosed area out of the segments, but then quickly decide that it's too small a space for her. Maybe a stake with a long rope for when I want to work at least a little in portions of the flower beds? Maybe. But Millie isn't very trustworthy: for being not excessively treat motivated, she does like to pick up garbage or anything else that qualifies as unusual and interesting. I dont think she knows instinctively what she must avoid. The cats do. The chickens as well. But Millie?  I dont think she is very discriminating! This means that giving her any amount of freedom is unwise unless my eyes are glued on her. Will she eat the poisonous Scilla Siberica? Nibble on a toxic daffodil? I can't tell. At least the plentiful creeping charlie wont harm her!

 

It's National Pet Day today. Did you know that? A calendar page, like so many calendar pages for me this year. April 11 is, to me, the day I said my final good bye to Sadey. Just as March 11th was the day I said my final good bye to Henry. Funny, I never thought of any of them as pets. More like members of my family.  And now here I am, with just Millie. Happy, cared for from day one Millie. No baggage, no trauma, good genes from gentle breeds. 

 

 

 

Fairness? There is none. We can only hope that future generations of humans will take greater care with their animals. And not just on Pet Day.

with so much love... 

doodle dee dum and Lady Sadey

So you wanted a dog with the social skills of a retriever, the brains of a poodle, and the weight and size of a Thanksgiving turkey? A mini doodle. A pup made in heaven! I asked my vet how many doodles she sees in her practice and she tells me -- they're about 50% of our new clients. To be sure, not all are minis, and not all are a retriever mix. Doodles are mixes of poodles and any number of other lineages: labradors (labradoodles), schnauzers (schnoodles), australian shepherds (aussiedoodles), bernese mountains (bernedoodles), cavalier king charles spaniels (cavapoos), ohhhh the list just goes on! 

I had a poodle when I was a kid. Smart, friendly, neurotic. Basically a great dog, though way under-trained. At age 13, I knew that I could teach him to sit. And I did. And he sat. And otherwise he jumped all over every visitor who came to our door and slept on my feet when I sat down to watch TV. In those sterile days, we didn't let dogs climb up on furniture. 

The interesting thing about mixes is that they take on the best but also the quirkiest traits of their forebears and you come up with a most interesting package. Millie sure is a lovable bundle of everything! Someone once said that a goldendoodlle (she is that, in mini size, which is slightly bigger than petite, but way smaller than a standard) is like a smart, friendly dog with ADHD. I cant really tell if that's her. Most puppies Millie's age seem to be dogs with ADHD. Because she is small, this combo is just plain funny. Watching her dash about, do kangaroo hops, and running leaps onto the ottoman then couch is like watching a very funny cartoon about crazy pups. (Doodles are notorious kangaroo hoppers -- meaning they can jump up with all four legs, like little boing boing machines!) She will bark her little barks, tail wagging, for five minutes straight, for no discernible reason, and then be absolutely silent for the next two hours.

 

 

In digging deeper into small dog literature I confirmed a truth I had already identified on my own: little dogs are hard to potty train. Little doodles have to be the worst here: they take the prize for figuring something out on their own and then sticking with it. Like -- that carpet is perfect for my poops and I will always go there to soil it, and then watch my human wipe and spray it which, btw, wont change my mind at all because obviously she's just making room for my next poop. 

The literature is firm on this point: no reprimands, or negative words must be uttered when a pup does her business inside your house. Just keep to a schedule and reward her successes outside. This means that Millie and I spend a lot of time walking outside. And I mean a lot. 

 

She is up at her usual time. I take her out. I feed her. I take her out. She runs around indoors. I take her out. Finally, I sit down to my breakfast.

 

Not even a week into the game and she knows that I wont get up from the counter until I am good and ready to put down my book. So she rests at my feet. Then with me, on the couch.

 

 

 

We both exhale. 

What's the plan for today?  Lots of walks! Longer walks, so that Millie has the full benefit of many grassy strips. And a handful of errands. And a Snowdrop pick up.

But as I was figuring out where to go when, I get a call from the place where Sadey is currently staying. She is supposed to be taken tonight back to Texas where she will be homed (they tell me) with people who already know her. However, she has turned hostile toward most everyone and they're concerned that they wont be able to take her to the Texas bound transport tonight, expected to come up to Portage somewhere after midnight. Could I please help?

I drop everything, put Millie in her crate and go out to see Sadey.

I wont spend time on filling in the details there. It was heartbreaking to see her so happy to see me, to climb into my lap, to take all the hugs she could get. At the same time, to know that she was not able to develop trust in others. That the reports on her were so negative. I spend as much time as I can with her, then drive quickly to pick up Snowdrop at school. 

The girl does a good job at cheering me up a bit -- after all, this miserable period is just a lead-up to a good outcome for her. Still, my heart is with Sadey tonight. I'm hoping that I will succeed in getting her into a crate. Otherwise? Well, let's not go there right now.

Snowdrop wants a quick stop at the farmette...

 

And then we head to Sally's House where Millie is happy as anything to be set free. 

More rides, more drop offs, more doggie playtime. And as the day winds down, Ed comes over to keep me company tonight (and to babysit Millie when I go after midnight to deal with Sadey).

It's good to lean on him here. To watch a boring show, to eat soup together. To snuggle with silly Millie. And to imagine that things will work out well for all of the dogs, for all of us.

with so much love... 

opinions

People have such strong opinions about everything, and nowhere is this more evident than in the world of puppy care. Or, broadly speaking, dog care. Everyone is an expert and knows better than the expert you chose to consult. I have seen this with Henry, with Sadey, and now I'm seeing it with Millie. That you should feel yourself to be in possession of all the answers -- well good for you, why not, if it helps you in life. But what surprises me is how much condemnation there is for the person who has a different view. Suddenly they are cruel money making animal destroying morons. Words are used that should not be used in public discourse. 

Of course, I do not have superior dog knowledge and so I rely on the people whose wisdom and knowledge I respect. I am so glad, so incredibly glad that I have people in my life that offer sound guidance and advice. I love the folks at the dog training school (Dogs Best Friend) and doggie daycare (Happy Dogz) that I use for my pups. I have nothing but admiration and respect for my vet (Dr. Verrill) over at Lakeview Vets-- she is everything you would want in a vet for your most precious pet. And still, the opinions keep coming from far and wide and I shake my head and think -- have we become a nation of frustrated ideologues? This isn't just stuff coming out of social media or other anonymous internet sources. People you know, people you've met, people who should feel some restraint in pushing their views let loose anyway. We live in an increasingly outspoken and uncivilized society!

Having said that, I woke up to an exquisite morning!  It's sunny and perfect April weather -- warm enough. My pup wakes early. I hold her off. She's not happy about that, but I am determined to fit in a quick shower!

Her morning routines aren't really set yet. Sure, a quick walk as soon as she is out of the crate. And another one right after breakfast. But why the accident 30 minutes later? Another walk, followed by another accident. What did I miss here? I have to believe that she is too tied to her puppy mat training. She finds a rug and uses it, just as she was taught early on. And the funny (well, kind of funny!) thing is that I rolled up one of my carpets to save it from this wrongful designation and she managed to climb up on top of the rolled tube of rug and poop there. Twice, possibly wondering why this human is making things difficult for her. Clever girl indeed! 

Breakfast.

What's the plan for today? Well, first I have to check with the vet to make sure our modus operandi is indeed the correct one (having received some flack about it from an interested party). Of course it is. Love my vet! Next, I have to correct the Wisconsin tax form. Ed pointed me to a mistake that he anticipated I'd make. Indeed. He's right and I'm wrong and I'm grateful that his opinion is based on research that I myself neglected to do!

Then? Well, print out the newly revised tax forms once again. At the farmhouse. I joke that I should not send them in until the 15th in case something else strikes us as worthy of further review.

And now comes the big one: I'm trying out doggie daycare for Millie, just for a couple of hours. I would like her to be around other dogs more, since she is very uncertain about the ones she sees on the street. Yesterday we had an interesting encounter with two large dalmatians. She barked to ward them off. They ignored her yaps and came over to sniff her butt. She stood absolutely still, understanding that barking at large dogs does not instill in them any fear whatsoever, but rather -- amusement. They parted on good terms, but I think we can do better going forward. 

Bye, Millie! Have a great time! -- I say this like the parent who is sending her kid off to preschool, knowing that the kid will be totally gobsmacked by what she'll find there, but putting on that cheerful face, because that's what you do for kids, for puppies too. 

I admit it's a bit overwhelming to put Millie in a room full of dogs, but I know that the staff there will look after her. They're starting her off with just the little guys.

 

I grab a cup of coffee and pick up Sparrow, then Snowdrop, then we are at the daycare picking up Millie.

(here she comes!)

 

How did she do?  

Ha! She enjoyed sitting in the laps of staff members and watching the dogs around her! It was a great introduction to the world of dog camaraderie. 

 (there is great competition over who gets to carry and snuggle with Millie)

 

 

 (But I think Sparrow has the handle on the training to stand routine)

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think about small dog ownership -- so different than looking after the big ones! Not better, not worse, though for me it is in fact easier at this young puppy stage. But it comes with new dangers. Our neighborhood group had a posting today about a very bold coyote that basically calls this development home. Believe me, if a coyote encountered either Henry or Sadey, he'd be mincemeat in their powerful jaws. Millie? Just the snack the coyote would want to bring back to a new litter. I don't have a fenced yard now, but I will have one in a couple of months. There is no way that leaving her out in that space without my constant supervision is a safe bet. Maybe I should pick up a comfy chair for myself as I sit and watch her play... 

After the kids leave, I ask Millie -- so how was your day, my little one? She plumps down on the couch and snoozes. That says it all.

with so much love... 

play and work

The horrors of the tax season have been thrust upon me once again. Yes, I filled out the fed forms on Friday. (I use freefilefillableforms.com because it's free, but you may as well be sitting with pencil in hand because they offer no prompts -- you do the thinking!) And yes, they got rejected within a day. So I filed again, correcting three mistakes on Saturday. The forms went through! Today I attacked the Wisconsin ones. Ridiculously complicated, but at least they took only two hours as opposed to five plus corrections for the feds. I called Ed four times with questions. We laughed, in a pained sort of way, at the ridiculousness of it all, the ambiguities, the fact that there is a raging debate as to what line 9 on one of the forms really means, with no agreement at all, not even among professionals or IRS folks. And yet here we are, wasting time and money (most people do not have eight hours to devote to this nonsense, let alone the training, so they pay the giants, like the rip off money making TurboTax, to do the work for them... imagine, you have to PAY to fulfill your legal obligation to submit your tax forms! ), wasting it on something that is as straightforward as pie in other countries, with the government doing the work for you, for free. 

This was my morning. or rather late morning. The very early hours were much more pleasant.

Millie tried getting me up at 5:30, but I told her to wait a bit and she did. (She had no choice -- she sleeps in her crate.) An hour later we were out and hopping. Well, she hopped about. I was rather slow moving. Trying to assess the weather, the day.

She ate, I ate...

I coached her on some of the commands -- she's got one down pat, two are a work in progress, the fourth -- totally not yet part of her vocabulary. And then she played. My, was she in a puppy mood! Bouncy and just enough naughty to be cute. She makes me think that Henry couldn't have been 7 months when I got him in October. He must have been older. He had none of Millie's goofiness. Serious from the get go, he played deliberately and with all his great big dog power on display. Millie, on the other hand, is like silly putty -- all bounce in all directions.

(Millie likes toys that look like her!)

And then she napped and I did the Wisconsin tax forms. Enough said on that one.

 

I had a lunch date with Ed at Tati's. I really had to nudge the girl to walk with me to the coffee shop. Her reluctance stems in part from the construction across the road. It's loud and it scares her. Too many big machines, too many strange noises, too many people popping in and out of building frames. I can never get her to just step out with me. She has to be carried to the sidewalk. After that, it's one big tugging session until we are away from our block. 

Once at Tati's she settles down between us, all chill, no worry.  

An older woman comes up, and after showering the girl with compliments, asks me her name. Millie, I reply, like a proud parent. Yes, she very much looks like a Mildred -- she says nodding her head knowingly. It struck me that Millie is your typical older people pleasing dog. The size, the impish yet shy demeanor, the innocent eyes -- all of it. Kids love Millie because they can hold her and play with her without fear. Adults kind of look beyond small dogs. Seniors? Enchanted!

 

In the afternoon, I take her to the farmette. 

(it's very windy!) 

 

I need to print my tax forms on the farmhouse printer. 

(Ed, please keep an eye on her so that the cats don't clobber her and scratch her eyes out!) 

 

We have a little extra time, so we go out for a walk along farmette lands. Ed joins us as we inspect the new orchard, the peach orchard, the trees we planted to the north. 

It feels so good to be here on this warm spring day and yet I also have a feeling of relief.  The flower fields need to be trimmed up and weeded, and beyond that, the trees need to be pruned and the grasses and meadows need a facelift. Still, I like feeling part of what went on here. Things are growing. It all looks very beautiful.

And from there we go to the Vet Clinic for her first formal check up.

I had to shake my head at this: my daughter got her rescue dog in early October She took him to the vet in the first week. She took him once more for an eye infection. Me? Between Henry, Sadey and now Millie, I have been to the vet at least a dozen times in this same period. It's a good thing I like the vet and the mood of the place. I used to take our dog of some thirty years back to a place that was sterile and no one knew us, nor my pooch, and it felt so impersonal that I may as well have been taking him to a concrete bunker manned by robots. This is much different. But still, the dogs have been quite the line item in my budget. And there's not much I could have done differently. (I have pet insurance, but always manage to just get up to the deductible.) 

Millie is of course a different proposition altogether. She is so small (weighing in at 9.2 pounds today) that I sometimes think I'm dealing with a hamster under my arm. Her feeding bills are... also small!

At home, I fix dinner, Ed comes over. Millie is worn out by her various visits and vaccinations. Little girl, spring is here. we'll play some more tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after...

with so much love... 

to never worry

Ed has the gift of not being predisposed to worry. Oh, sure, he'll say "I worry about you," but he doesn't really mean it. He takes each day as it presents itself and never frets about what to do should the sky come falling down on him, on us. It's a wonderful emotional balance, or hormonal alignment, or zen achievement, or whatever it is that leads him to this. 

I'm more of a mixed bag. I suppose most of us are that way: some things cause us to freak out, sometimes for no good reason, while others stir up the anxiety juices in most out there, but we remain somehow untouched by the panic we should perhaps be feeling. 

 

The morning was lovely. Yes, very cold, but the doggie sweaters did arrive overnight so I can dress the girl for her outing. With the compression of her fur by the sweater, she looks like a toy poodle!

Breakfast: she is on meds and wet food and she definitely is one of those dogs that finds wet food totally delicious. Me, I prefer my granola.

After a bit of dog training and play, I take the next important step in creating a good life for the two of us: I crate her and leave the house. No, she is not happy. I hear her howling. But I dont turn back. Unlike Henry, who damaged the crate trying to get out and disturbed neighbors with his bark-howling, Millie's voice is small. Woof woof followed by a squeaky howl. No one will be bothered.

I am going to be away for exactly two hours. I have my annual mammography (which is actually late because I did not want to do it before spring break travel), and I have a grocery list, and I have to vote. 

Since my mom had breast cancer (but still lived to be 100!), the screenings for me are stressful. I imagine how much my year, indeed, my life would change were I to get distressing test result. When I was younger, I had lumps galore and surgeries to remove and test them. But I always came out clean (these days the procedures are so much simpler). And each time I did, I felt such incredible gratitude. To have this gift of another year without that particular worry felt incredible. Today? It feels grand as well. My clinic gives the results, they're good, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. At my age, I really dont want to give up a year to being very sick. And at least for this -- I don't have to. How wonderful is that!

I go to the grocery store then. The fruit shelves are bare (frost killed much of what I eat for breakfast), but I find good mangoes and good granola, and good yogurts and pretty tulips, plus some essentials for next Sunday's dinner.

The voting? It's been a while since I voted in person and so I was surprised to be told that my polling place had changed. To a church. Where many poll workers sit and hardly any voters stop by (I was especially eager to cast my vote for the Supreme Court judge). 

 

Millie hears me return. She starts in on the howl, the cry, and I put down my groceries and go to her. She has in fact wet her bedding, but I think that came with the relief of seeing me return. No problem, babe! We have a washing machine. 

I've never seen her so jubilant -- her tail going a mile a minute, her licks, jumps, and smiling eyes having me feel so... loved! I cuddle with her on the couch. And do the laundry. And then we both set out to get the kids. 

At Sparrow's school, I leave the car in the pick up line and take Millie for a little romp in their playing field. And then I reconsider. There are geese. They leave geese droppings. Millie... finds them fun to play with. The droppings, not the geese.

 

 

Once again, both kids are thrilled to be with Millie.

 (in the car...) 

 

(walking into the house...)

 

(leaving Sally's House...)

 

 

Do dogs worry? Of course they do. Millie is quite the worrier. Strange noises can get her going (though I have to admit, her bark is cute rather than threatening; still, were working on it). Big construction trucks across the street? Are you sure they're not monsters waiting to eat me up mommy?

Let's face it: none of us are like Ed. And maybe Ed isn't like he thinks he is either. To love life, your beloveds, your friends, plans, daily comings and goings -- is to occasionally worry. And then to let go of it all and exhale. 

with so much love... 

 

figuring it out...

First came the change, now comes the figuring it all out. The impact of having a new puppy is of course huge. I could (and did) plan for some of it, but much has to be thought out anew with each day. For example, I would not have anticipated that Millie would roll in with an upset tummy that only got worse as the day and night progressed. It's hard to house break a puppy who has a constant urge to do something. I've been using a lot of enzyme puppy accident treatment! Luckily she has kept it off the carpeting upstairs, but still, the surprises keep coming.

This problem made for an interrupted night. She just had to go at 3 a.m. Knowing that she was in dire straits, I threw on a jacket and grabbed her from her sleeping crate. As I stood outside in the drizzle with bare legs (who wears long stuff to sleep these days!) I had to smile at the ridiculousness of it all. 

In the morning, she woke before me, but this time, I managed to pull on my sweatpants in addition to my jacket. The workmen had started their construction work across the street. It wouldn't do to repeat the nocturnal disrobement.

It's a cold morning, and Millie was not going to be cajoled into a longer walk. Just a visit to the grassy spot by Sally's House, thank you.

(where are those eyes??)

When I knew I was getting a pup on April 4th, I resisted the urge to buy doggie sweaters. First, I thought, it'll be April, so a good bit warmer, and, too, she has all that fur! I realize now that this was a mistake. We're in for some pretty cold mornings. And her fur seems to not offer enough protection. She doesn't expand enough energy to stay warm. When the wind picks up, she is shivering from the cold. Back to Amazon we go. Something cheap, something that will come in the middle of the night so that we can at least be ready for tomorrow's walks.

Since Millie was not gaining control over her digestive issues, I switched her food to a prescription diet left over from the days of Henry's stomach problems and called the vet requesting more of it. Millie seemed delighted with the wet food option. Maybe a win for now?

And in general, she is starting to relax more, play more, find joy in the small world around her. 

(is that a smile I see?)

And it is a small world: she can do a handful of steps, but as yet, she hasn't attempted the stairs to the second floor. Nor is she eager to visit the front room where the kids often play and where the big two dogs hung out to bark at anyone doing anything outside. Millie limits herself to the kitchen and the living room, a.k.a. places I hang out in.

Breakfast? She rests at my feet. Routine established.

 

The biggest challenge comes with errands I have to run and kids that need after school care. I'm hesitant about shuttling her to seven different places (yes seven!), with a 40 minute "layover" at my daughter's house (especially with Millie's tummy issues). But this is Monday for you. Until she is well and potty trained, I cannot leave her with anyone and certainly not the doggie daycare, which would totally overwhelm her. So it's travel with me or stay in a crate. That second option may work down the road, but I do not want her to grow to hate the crate and I do not want her to have accidents in the crate, so here I am being the chauffeur to my passenger extraordinaire. 

The kids, of course, are happy to see her. 

 

 

 

And it's good for her to be with them too. That goes for my errands as well: visits to the vet pharmacy, to the UPS store, to the pet store -- all new for her. I carry her in --- my light little butterfly -- and I feel her relax. She's learning to trust other people, to face new adventures with greater confidence.

 

  

 

(Sparrow is determined to teach her to "stand-up," with some modest successes!)

 

 

 (Snowdrop prefers to just snuggle...)

 

 

It was in the end a great day. Millie's number of accidents is going down. Her tummy is mending. She saw a bit of the world today. And the kids were happy campers. 

Because we're all never satisfied, let me put in a plug for warmer weather. Millie is not a fan of gusts of wind messing with her walks. And her hair!

with so much love... 

 

Sunday

Happy holidays, if you are one who celebrates Easter or Passover or simply the unfolding of spring. May you find pockets of joy, may you feel loved on this day, on all days that follow.

It is my first full day with little Millie. After a bout of tears at bedtime (do dogs shed tears?), followed by a cuddle with me, she settled beautifully into her crate with her Snuggle pup and slept until I got up at 7. Perfect pooch! Well, except for the fact that she regards my two beautiful Turkish rugs (the small ones) as puppy mats -- perfect for a poop or a pee! Millie, we need to work on that!

I take her out at wake-up of course. Immediately. And it's so easy with this little pup. Pick up, place down, pee, come inside.

So, how about breakfast? 

And let's get some routines going here. How about a longer walk? Like, to the end of the block and around the corner and back?

(she looks like a blur of fuzz in the wind)

I see that my exercise steps are going to plummet with this dog. I must rethink my strategy going forward. This girl takes baby steps and not very many of them!

We start in on some basic training. She knows nothing -- a clean slate as it were. So, let me explain sit and come! 

And yes, now it's playtime. Millie likes the toys that look like her.

As for chewing Nylabones? She prefers the coffee table legs and twine. We'll work on that one too! My bitter apple spray and enzyme stain spray bottles are at the ready. Oh, you puppy, you!

 

 

  

The day is made up of small snippets. Just like this small dog of mine: never more than a small handful of minutes for anything. Big dogs equal big play and big naps. This little girl cuts that all into little pieces. 

Eventually I take my attention away from her and focus on the dinner for tonight, all the while wondering how this pup will handle the burst of energy that will come through the door in the early evening.

*     *     * 

Ed calls in the early afternoon. Want to go to the dog park? It's such a beautiful day.  No, really not. She's not ready for it, even for the small-dogs one. And she doesn't need the run.

All morning I'd been thinking that having a little dog is an entirely different experience than having a big one or even a medium sized one. It's as if I had a different species of animal here. There's very little match between Millie and my two big guys.

When I worked as an au pair for the New York family in my last college years, I got to know small dogs. My charge's mother liked Yorkies and had one, and then another. I can't say that I found them to be thrilling. Yappy and indifferent to everyone except the mother. Millie isn't like that. And she'll grow to be three times the size of a Yorkie (the average weight of an adult Yorkie is 4 - 7 pounds). But I have noticed that she can suddenly appear at my feet and I wont hear or see her. She's easy to trip over! 

And she's easy to pick up. If Henry didn't want to go somewhere, there's nothing anyone could do to make him do it. I famously sat for 30 minutes in the vet's office trying to get him on the scales. We all tried everything. No luck. Millie? She doesn't have a choice! Swooping her up with one hand at this point is easy.

What I've noticed, too, is that nothing of the stuff I bought for the big guys is appropriate for her. The bed, the crate, the carrier. The dishes, the leashes (too heavy), the sweaters, the collars of course. The treats, the car restraints, the chewies. They don't work for her. Meaning, she's a whole new expense for me.

On the other hand, day care costs will likely go way down. Food costs, treat costs -- a fraction of what I needed for the big two.  

The differences extend, of course, to our walks. I suggested to Ed -- in the alternative, rather than the dog park, let's do our old reliable county park. On a leash with her.  

(first car ride in small dog car seat)

 

I wasn't sure she'd manage. There are things that she just cannot do: she's not potty trained (or she is heavily regressing). She is not used to the leash. With big dogs, you walk briskly to keep up with their slow pace. With Millie, she trots to my steady walk. And I cannot push her beyond 25 minutes (the rule of 5 minutes for every month is a good one I think). 

But she does manage, and she appears happy to be out with us.

 

And we have some first encounters. With another little pup -- her size, and also named Millie! With two other people. She is shy. No running up to anyone. And she backs away from the little dog, barking a bit fearfully. This girl hasn't seen many dogs (or people) beyond her own household. It's my job to introduce her calmly happily to as many as I can. 

She does get tired at the top of the hill. Ed carries her for a bit.

And then she's down again, trotting daintily next to me.

I drop Ed off at the farmette. He wants to finish listening to a podcast in the car, so I take Millie for her first inspection of the farmette lands.

She is content to explore with me. She's a little uncertain when she sees the chickens. A few woofs to frighten them. Ineffective, but better than chasing them!

Driving home from the farmette, I see that Tati's Cafe is open. Let's keep those new experiences rolling in! Millie, how about a pause here?

A delightfully chill girl.

We go home. I warm up a croissant from Bloom's Bake Shop and open the jar of jam from Nice. Strawberry and fraises des bois. Utterly delicious. And I see that the smell of croissants is a real temptation for my little one! She gets a small corner, but just that. 

*     *     * 

In the evening, the whole gang comes over, Ed included. Goose included.  I put up the gate for Millie to protect her from the onslaught. 

It was unnecessary. The kids loved, simply loved holding Millie, petting her...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Millie felt safe with them. 

And fearful that Millie was of a tiny dog on a leash, she was fine with Goose. We kept an eye on the two of them, and it is true that Millie was not confident that all this was heading in a good direction, but she sweetly accepted it. Including the gentle giant that came with the pack.

 

 

 Millie's love of kids is obvious. And if they come with a big dog -- so be it. 

A joyous Easter dinner!

 

 

 

 (from the March trip across the ocean -- both the chocolate eggs and the Eze plate)

 

 

(and the cake from Bloom Bake Shop tasted way better than any of us would have believed, given the abundance of buttercream flowers... not too sweet, plenty chocolaty)

 

 It was a full Sunday. A beautiful Sunday. A spring Sunday. With sunshine. And family, Ed, and Millie.

and so much love...