The Joys of Pet Ownership

As you know, or maybe you don't know, I am the proud owner of two hounds. Let me give you a recap of their story, and then I can enlighten you to my latest joys of pet ownership.

My family has always had a dog. Sure there were years along the way between pets, and some years with absolutely terrible dogs, but always there has been a 4-legged friend in my parent's home. In August of 2010 we had to put down our family Golden Retriever. It was I think the hardest decision that my mom has had to make. Brandy was the best dog. Seriously I know everyone thinks their dog is the best, but this dog really was top notch. She was smart, gentle, affectionate, and well behaved from the day my mom brought her home. And despite what I, my dad, or my brother may think, she was my mom's dog. But, she had gotten old, and her eyes, and hips had gone, and her last months were spent barely moving around and falling down the stairs on several occasions. Putting her down was the hard, but right thing to do.

I was heartbroken.

As we drove home from my parent's house that evening I told Ken. I need a grief puppy. I like to think he was in full support of this. I'm probably a bit delusional. :)

So I started the search for my grief puppy. Along the way Ken and I decided we should get two dogs, as we were both working full time and the dog(s) would be spending a lot of time home alone. Thus, having two dogs would mean each would have a friend. Next it came to choosing a breed. We made a list of the attributes we wanted (or didn't want) in a dog. Short hair was a must, a larger breed, an easily trainable dog, a working breed that has a majestic look. We also wanted a dog good with small children, that was somewhat territorial but not aggressive.

Our search led us to the Black Mouth Cur. Most people have never heard of this breed, and think our dogs are some kind of Boxer mix. That's a pretty good description.

 After some more searching I located a few breeders in the southern US. Mind you, we live in Missouri. After some feeler emails my hopes of getting a grief dog soon were plummeting. The earliest we could get on a waiting list from a breeder was for a litter they were planning on in July 2011. So we would have to wait 8 months to find out whether or not we might get the last pick of a possible litter. I was devastated.

Then I got a phone call. A breeder in Mississippi called to tell me that they had an unpublished litter that would be weaning soon. They hadn't sold any of the pups as they were breeding to keep some of the pups themselves and we could have first pick of the litter! A miracle. We picked our dogs from photos and I began the countdown. The only problem...the pups would be ready to pick up on October 15th...which would have been great except we were getting married on the 16th. That definitely wasn't going to work. So we asked the breeder to hold the dogs for another two weeks, and on October 30th we set off to get them.

We drove almost all night, stopped for about 6 hours rest in a hotel, got up early and finished our trip down on Saturday morning. We got to the breeder around noon, got our pups and turned right back around and headed home. With only a few stops we made the 10 1/2 hour drive and crashed into bed around midnight. It was a brutally long driving weekend. And after 20+ hours in the car it appeared the pups didn't even like us. But they were soooooo cute.

Now, Artemis and Apollo (names that we stewed over for a good 3 weeks...and by stewed I mean argued) are 18 months old. They are not the world's best dogs They bark and are loud and sleep on the sofa when they aren't supposed to. Artemis jumps the fence and Apollo never listens. But they are certainly still my favorite. And they still provide the joys of pet ownership.

As mentioned above Artemis has a nasty habit of clearing the fence in the backyard. Then she is free to run about the neighborhood barking her high-pitched bark and refusing to come back home. So as of late she has been on a strict leash regimen when outdoors. On Saturday I had her outside for an extended potty break. She had been cooped up for two days since it was cold here, so I thought I'd give her a little time to roam the yard. Apollo wanted to play, so I obliged them both. Artemis however pulled a little hard on the leash when I wasn't expecting it, and I lost my grip. She was free, so to speak. She didn't seem to notice and I thought she might stay put. I was wrong. It took all of 5 seconds for her to be out of the yard. Normally I would let her roam, but I was worried that the leash would get caught and she would hurt herself, so I went inside to get Ken. I put on my coat, shuttled Apollo back inside and headed out to the back. Artemis was tearing full speed through the common ground behind our fence and into the woods. As I reached the back gate and started after her she reemerged from the woods. She came slightly towards me at my call, and then stopped to turn back and pick something up off the ground. I assumed it was trash. People are always throwing trash in the common ground.

I walked slowly towards her, trying my best to coax her back to me. Then I realized: she didn't have trash. She had a bunny. Yes. A bunny. A cute little bunny. And she was trying her hardest to bring it to me. Well, I think she was trying to balance wanting to bring it to me and wanting to play with it. *shiver* I started yelling for Ken, who was still in the house getting his boots/coat on. As he headed out the back gate he looked to where I was standing, maybe 15 feet from Artemis, and said "Get her." I simply replied "She has a bunny." Enough said for Ken. He knows me well enough to know there's no way I'm going any closer if I don't have to.

So after maybe 2 minutes of Artemis picking it up and dropping it repeatedly while sort of running in our general direction with it, she dropped it close to my feet. I walked over to it, not looking down, and stood next to it. She came over and sat down in front of me, looking as proud as can be. Chest puffed out. Eyes squinting shut. I swear she was beaming and smiling. Oh Lord. I told her good dog and gave her praise, and Ken picked up the rabbit and told her he would cook it for her.

I think at this point we both assumed she had just found the thing lying in the grass. As I began to point out the nasty points of dressing a random rabbit she found in the woods Ken paused and we had the following conversation.

Ken : "I'm sure it's like a month old...wait...maybe not."
Me : "What do you mean 'maybe not'."
Ken : "It just peed." He touched it (yes with his bare hands) and continued "It's still warm. Hot even."

I just walked on towards the house. I was so grossed out! Before we went in the house Ken declared his determination to learn how to, and then dress the rabbit. And he stopped to take a picture, so people might actually believe us.

And Saturday evening as we sat inside I realized: Artemis is a hunting dog and so as far as that goes she did good. I just hope she doesn't do good anymore. :)

*Note - The dog is really bigger than the bunny. The camera angle was just off a bit.*

February 22, 2012

I realize that I'm actually writing this post on February 24th, HOWEVER, I meant to write it on the 22nd but I was really busy. :)

February 21, 2012: The day before my birthday.

Like any (I think) normal person, I enjoy getting to celebrate my birthday. I don't necessarily enjoy getting older every year (most years I do, but not every one) but I like to get the cards in the mail and the Facebook wall posts and the celebratory meals and attention. I'll admit. I like it a lot.

I have noticed however, that the older a person gets the less people think celebrating is important. Maybe once you're hitting 40 you do want to forget about your birthday altogether, but certainly 21 year olds disagree, and I highly doubt even 25 (or 26) year olds think that. If you couple this ebbing celebration level with the emergence of technology you get what I consider to be a travesty: birthdays now pass with no paper cards in the mail and no phone calls to sing an out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday. They fly by with Facebook posts and belated text messages.

Does 1/2 a thought still count? What happened to taking a moment, and a dollar, and sending someone a birthday card the good old fashioned way? What happened to recognizing that the people in your life who are over the age of 15 might still like to have a birthday party that they didn't have to plan for themselves? And while we're at it, a birthday 'gift' doesn't have to cost a fortune. But it can be well thought out. Is that too much to ask?

As Wednesday was approaching this week I was struggling with all of these...concerns. I already knew I wasn't getting a traditional party because I hadn't planned one for myself. And while I did have lunch plans with my mom I was facing down cooking my own birthday dinner. As Wednesday was approaching...

February 22, 2012: My 26th Birthday

By Tuesday morning I was in a complete depressed funk about how bad my birthday was going to be. Seriously. Nobody was going to remember it except my parents and there wasn't going to be a party or cake or presents or anything a birthday should have.

Boy was I wrong.

Tuesday as I was driving home from work my mother-in-law called to invite us over for dinner on Wednesday. And she was making lasagna, my favorite. Sweet, I don't have to cook my own birthday dinner.

Tuesday evening when I got home there were 3 cards in the mail. The first from my grandmother. She sent a sweet note and one of her favorite recipes for Pecan Rolls. I love to bake and eat sweets. It was such a sweet thought for her to send me one of her favorite recipes, and it just proves my point that a gift need not cost a fortune. The second card was from my aunt and cousins. As I opened it out fell $10. $10 isn't a lot, but it is almost exactly the cost of a box of cake mix and a jar of frosting. So there we have it, my birthday cake...some assembly required. :) The last card was from my Bestie. She had mentioned that it was coming, so it wasn't a complete surprise but what was inside was. She sent me a gift card. I know some people, Bestie included, prefer not to give/receive gift cards because they don't seem personal but I disagree. This was the most thoughtful gift card. It's store specific, and Bestie even knew how much the item I want costs. She sent exactly the right gift card amount. I don't see how that could ever possibly be misconstrued as 'not thoughtful'.

Wednesday morning: the day of truth. I got up relatively early. Then I gave myself a present: no chores on my birthday. In hind sight this wasn't the best decision as I had already neglected the chores Monday and worked on Tuesday so the house was looking a little gross. But still, it was my birthday and I was determined to have a day off. So, morning off: check! Then lunch with my mom. We went to this little tearoom in a tiny little town about 30 minutes from my house. We ate our soup, salad and sandwiches in front of a fire and topped them off with delicious desserts. It was 2 hours of relaxing atmosphere, good conversation, great company and good food. A perfect lunch. And the whole time my phone was buzzing non-stop with phone calls and text messages wishing me a healthy happy birthday. I honestly had no idea so many people would remember and care.

After lunch, and some fancy transportation finagling we took the dogs to the dog park. The weather was beautiful. And the best part, my college roommate made the trip to the park to see me. Just to give me a hug and wish me a happy birthday. And to pass along a bottle of her favorite spiked apple cider. :)

After an hour or so at the park and a bit more car rearranging we headed to my in-laws. I immediately observed a pile of stuff in the middle of the living room floor under some blankets. This is the traditional method for wrapping large gifts :) I assumed the box under the blanket was a new vacuum. It was something I had asked for a while back.

We chatted for a bit and I waited until the lasagna was in the oven baking to remove the blankets. And really, my mother-in-law couldn't wait anymore, so she grabbed one side and pulled them back. What was under the blankets? Well it wasn't a vacuum. It was four medium sized boxes from Crate & Barrel. It was new dishes. And these aren't just any dishes. These are beautiful, white, pristine, not-chipped, matching dishes that I have been petting at Crate & Barrel for a while now, saving up my spending money to buy for myself. I was like a little kid on Christmas. I opened each box and took out one piece. I made a place setting on the floor. I hugged the dishes and just basked in their fabulous-ness.

The next gift was from my husband. Now, here I already had a pretty good idea what I was getting. I don't, in general, care for surprises. I like to have a plan. So a week earlier Ken had spilled the beans that he had already gotten me a present. I spent the next hour or so badgering him with questions until I deduced that it was a cookbook. :) On Wednesday evening he gave it to me. But it's not a cookbook. It's a 1,000 page baking and pastry textbook from the baking/pastry classes at the Culinary Institute of America. It's step by step instructions, pictures, and recipes for cookies, cakes, pies, tarts, wedding cakes, spun sugar, chocolate and EVERYTHING else you can imagine associated with baking. In short, it's amazing.

As we sat down to dinner I was pretty much in heaven. Everything on my to-buy-for-myself list had been covered by the gifts I had received. Everything and then some.

After dinner, my brother-in-law obliged me to two sets at Euchre. As we were playing I was thumbing through my new baking to-do list and I mentioned that as soon as I could get the ice cream making attachment for my stand mixer I could make all kinds of ice creams with the recipes in this book. My mother-in-law simply suggested I take her ice cream maker - she never uses it anyway. Then she went down to the basement and came back with a like-new mixer and two boxes of rock salt to go with it! She said, you can 'borrow' it. :)

As we drove home I contemplated the differences in my expectations on Tuesday morning and what I actually got on Wednesday, and I scolded myself for having been so negative. I think I had worked up in my mind that my birthday should be something like "My Super Sweet 26" and then had decided if it couldn't be that it would be terrible. But I was so wrong. There was no 100 person party. There was no fancy birthday cake with my name piped in red (although I did bake myself a little something). But there were people I loved. And there were thoughtful gifts that I really wanted and none that I had to fake a smile and look for the receipt. There were calls and cards and messages from all across the country wishing me a happy day. It was so much more than I could have really ever hoped for. And today, Friday, I still feel so blessed and lucky.

What a great day!