Spaniels!

I received the following photo texts from my daughter OG today:

Just randomly settling himself on a plastic bag...

With his little toy

All comfy

Isn't our little Finley adorable?!

Hoarding

A message from my dad, the puppy caretaker while we're away: "That's a little mound of toys piled on his food bowl."

I guess he's missing us and not sure when he'll get his next meal while we're gone. Poor little guy!

Yappuchino

Check out this clever Christmas gift, made by my daughter EV and given to our Finley from his litter-mate brother, Chewie, her pup:

A Puppy Dog for Christmas

This is the precious puppy face that greets me every single morning, without fail:

It's blurry because he was jumping up as I took it.

It wasn't easy to get him to sit still and "pose"!

It is adorable to me that Finley has come up with a little morning routine that involves running back to see me—usually I'm still in bed!—as soon as my husband releases him from his leash after their morning run. My husband unhooks Pippin, the other dog, first—and he runs into his crate, waiting to be served breakfast. Then Finley is unhooked, and he runs straight back to see me. He pops his head (and wet paws!) up on the side of the bed to say hello. I greet him and rub his ears a few seconds, then he turns and runs off back down the hall for "dinner."

It is so endearing to me that he runs back to say hi before he goes to eat...every single day!

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*Entry 8, The 12 Days of Christmas Blog Challenge 
The title is a line from the song "Bobby Wants a Puppy Dog for Christmas" by Merle Haggard.

He really is the cutest, sweetest thing!

Winston's Heaven

This is our first Christmas without our beloved Winston. He was our Christmas rescue from the local SPCA in 2009. Five years ago, he came to us and hijacked Christmas. All we did that year was watch that unruly, crazy, not-so-house-trained dog! And we fell in love. This year, we have another new dog, acquired as a puppy this past July. Like Winston before him, Finley is still trying to figure out exactly where he should and shouldn't "do his business." Like Winston, he wants to eat both the ornaments on the tree and the presents under it.

Finley is a sweetie, and we love him a real whole lot, but we still miss our dear Winston... a real whole lot. So a couple of weeks ago, when we saw him staring back at us from the walls of the local Plow and Hearth store, we had to have the picture. It was marked half off, and—amazingly—was subject to our coupon as well. This isn't common, and we just took it as a further sign that this picture was meant to be ours.

OG calls it Winston's Heaven... "Finally allowed on the bed... and under the covers!" 

It really does look just like him. And now it hangs in our bedroom. Oh, sweet Winston. We miss you!

Two for One

When, "Get in your crates, boys!" yields some confusion.

"But Mom, he has a soft bed! I like his better!"  (Yes, that *is* Finley in Pippin's crate, having gone in there before Pippin... and stayed there.)

Don't feel too bad for Finley. Pippin only has a soft bed in his crate because he hasn't puppy-eaten the last two I've bought him!

Baby Bluebirds and Baby Boys

From this:

to this:

Apparently we missed the laying of a fourth egg while we were off with my son to his summer orientation for college.  As our little bluebird couple prepares to fledge their second brood of the summer, we are preparing to fledge our second-born off to college.  Soon after we recover from that, we will "fledge" our first-born in marriage.

Hooray for our little bluebird house, and our first batch of babies!  Someday they'll look like this:

 








Someone with more time and photographic skill on her hands than I have, chronicled the entire process here. 

I'm viewing these little birds as a living reminder to me of the normalcy and naturalness of sending your babies off--once they're ready--to face the world without you. It is strange to think that soon two of my children will be living elsewhere. I will miss them desperately. (If one's children are burdensome or irksome, I would imagine it might be nice to arrive at the, "Bye, see you later!" stage of things. But when they're delightful--and you count them among your very best friends and enjoy being with them as much as anyone on the planet--it is pretty difficult!)

I would imagine in the end, it feels a little bit like this:

Goodbye, Goo

As I wrote those words, "Goodbye, Goo," tears sprang into my eyes.  I got that oh-so-familiar lump in my throat... and the catch in my breath... the quiver in my chin... the sting in my nose... You see, for the past week, I've been grieving.  There have been many, many tears... lots of hard crying--grief crying--you know, that deep sobbing-and-choking sort of crying.

In our home, we are grieving the loss of a dear friend, a sweet family member.  In very many ways, we are grieving alone.  When we lost our last dog, Little, the outpouring of love and support was overwhelming.  She had been unexpectedly hit by a car, which had been witnessed by one of our children.  It was shocking and surprising and horrible.  We sent out word over Facebook and email, asking people to pray for our sweet children, who were missing their childhood pup, and especially for our sweet OG, who was processing what she had seen.  Comments and emails and notes and cards came in from all sorts of places, and we were amazed and comforted by the prayers of many, many people for us in our grief.

This time around, there have been no notes, no cards, no written expressions of sympathy or comfort.  That is not because our friends have suddenly grown cold or have stopped sending condolences.  No, this time we suffer alone largely because very few people know about what happened.  We did get the standard card that the vet sends out whenever he has to do this terrible thing, when his life-giving hand has to turn into the one that brings death.
 

The card itself is lovely, with a silhouette of a man and his dog sitting on a bench, looking out over a beautiful lake.  It is a striking scene, peaceful and serene. "It's hard to say goodbye to such a special companion.  Our thoughts are with you," says the printed message.

In the careful black penmanship of one of the veterinary employees are added the following words of comfort: "Please accept our deepest sympathies over your loss of Winston.  We know he was a special part of your family and will be greatly missed."

And so he is.  I am missing the constant, happy companionship of one who has been with me daily for the last four years, since we welcomed him into our home.  He was boisterous and excited and so very present in everything we did, so his absence is definitely noticed, all the time.

He was such a good dog, and such a "good boy"!  He had a real heart for obedience.  He wanted to please us and wanted to obey us... always.  If we said, "Sit," he did, right away.  If we told him to go to his crate, he would, immediately.  Even if he was barking his head off and wanting to greet the source of the doorbell, if you told him to go, he went.  Every night, when we fed him his food, he would run to his crate and sit bolt upright.  He would sit that way, head and torso up straight and tall, waiting for the feeder to arrive with the bowls, then staring expectantly at him until he was released to eat from the bowl that had been placed in front of him.  Only the feeder's impressed and happy, "Okay!" would release him from his stand at attention, drooling.

We all miss him terribly.  And we are suffering and grieving alone this time because of the awkward reality that, though we loved this sweet dog as a member of our family, we had to make the heart-wrenching decision to euthanize him.  That isn't the kind of thing you throw onto Facebook.  "Had to put my dog down today.  Miss him," just doesn't quite work as a status update.  It is awkward.  People don't know what to say.  Many disagree with your decision and choice, since they only knew and loved the "good boy" Winston and can't imagine this action was really  necessary.  Others, who agree with your choice, assume that since you made the choice, you must be fine with it.

Reality, however, holds something different.  Making the decision, knowing it is the right decision, moving through the execution of the decision, and living with the results of the decision are all very different things.  You can know that something is "what has to be done" and still choke on your own tears as you walk through the doing of the thing.

I have had to make this decision once before, with our sweet dog, Huckleberry, years ago.  I have sat once before with my canine friend, rubbing the ears and speaking softly and controlling the tears for his sake, watching as his breathing begins to come more slowly and then finally ceases all together.  I was prepared.  I do not think that my husband necessarily was, and I know that the children who opted to be present weren't ready.  They handled it fine, but it is exceedingly difficult to watch the dog you love, who trusts you for his very existence, bound happily into the vet for the next adventure, only to be met with an injection of a confusing sedative.  None of us were prepared for his agitated pacing as he began to feel it work, for his refusal to succumb to the strange feeling coming over him.  I had to coax him into lying down, and coax him further to rest his head on my lap.  He looked up at me with confusion, and maybe a little bit of fear.  But he trusted me, so he allowed it.  That's what is hardest, I think... the absolute trust of this dog that you won't let anything bad happen to him, even as you're paying the vet a few hundred dollars to kill him.

Yes, it's sometimes the right thing to do.  Yes, it sometimes has to be done.  Huckie was very sick and suffering, so that decision was easy.  Winston was healthy and happy and thrilled about life, ready to live another decade, probably, but he was suffering from an inability to control his impulse to bite people.  We're convinced that he probably had something going wrong in his brain, since this biting behavior had not occurred at all during the first couple of years we had him.  When it did start, it was always directed at strangers--men--who were approaching our property or entering our home unexpectedly (at least unexpected to him).  However, over the past year or so, it had begun to increase, both in frequency, intensity, and damage done.  We tried to manage it by moving his crate to the back of the house and locking him up anytime anyone was at our house but family.  This worked for a good, long while, but even in that context we feared for the time we'd forget, either to lock the front door at all times so no one just walked in, or to lock him up before someone expected did arrive.  In the end, the biting behavior even turned toward the other dog and toward one of the children in our home  We knew that it was just a matter of time before this sweet, obedient, happy dog had a moment of whatever-it-was-that-caused-him-to-freak-out-and-bite, and really hurt someone, physically or psychologically.  And so we made the unthinkable choice to end the life of the dog we loved.  We did it for us, yes, but we also did it for him.  We know that he would be mortified if he ever hurt one of these precious children he loved.

 And so we've said goodbye to another dog-friend.  It's still a little raw.  We still cry quickly and easily.  (At the strangest times, a memory will catch me off guard and the tears will spring to my eyes and nose.  I still don't wear any makeup on days that I'm home.)

We are all processing it a little differently.  The girls opted to go with us to the vet, while my son chose to stay home and not be there for the procedure.  He had said goodbye, and wanted to remember Winston the way he'd always been.  I respect that.  And I thank my son for the gift that was given as he let us see him grieve, too.  I will never forget seeing and hearing this 6'7" man taking his grief to the piano keyboard, playing and singing as we all moved about the house that first night. 

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord,
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say,
Lord, blessed be Your name

And so we sent him off... loving on him 'til his last breath... grieving his absence... smiling at his memory.  We loved you, Winston.  And we hope that in God's great providence and mercy, He chooses to let us see our beloved pets again one day in heaven.  I wouldn't mind throwing my arms around a glorified version of our sweet Winston and rolling around the hills of heaven together!   I know that many of you will roll your eyes at such an idea, so I share with you an article I found when Little was killed, entitled "Do Dogs Go to Heaven?" by Randy Alcorn.  Before you scoff, know that he quotes theological heavy-weights like John Piper and Joni Eareckson Tada, and leaves you with more than a little hope that you might get to see your special animal friend again one day...

*Entry 2, February - The 12 Months of 2014 Blog Challenge - the title is not from a song, but the lyrics quoted are from Matt Redman's Blessed Be Your Name

Three spirit-crushing stains...

...and how to lift them.

So reads the title of a little blurb in May 2010's issue of Real Simple magazine. On page 210 they give tips for the following three "spirit-crushing stains," and--in the spirit of 'this is as good a place as any for me to file something'--I post them here for my (and possibly your) future reference.

Let's hope we actually never need them!

Courtesy of Real Simple magazine, May 2010 edition:

A GUEST SPILLED RED WINE ON YOUR WHITE SOFA

1) Immediately blot and reblot with a cool, damp sponge until no more color comes out. (You can do the rest after the guests leave.)

2) Spray with a mixture of equal parts water and 3% hydrogen peroxide (first test of colorfastness).

3) Let sit for a few minutes, then blot with a solution of one part white vinegar to three parts water. Blot again with a damp cloth. (Linen, silk, velvet, and wool sofas should be professionally cleaned.)

THE CAT PEED ON THE LIVING-ROOM RUG

1) Layer a few cotton cloths over the stain, cover with a plastic bag, and top with a couple of heavy books to soak up the liquid. Repeat until the cloths are no longer wetting through.

2) Apply an enzyme-based cleaner, such as Nature's Miracle ($8.50, drugstore.com), to an area twice as big as the stain.

3) Let sit for five minutes, then blot. Next, spray with equal parts white vinegar and water and let sit for 15 minutes; rinse with water and blot.

THE KIDS LEFT A PERMANENT MARKER SPOT ON A WOOD TABLE

1) Using a soft cloth, rub in a lemon oil-based furniture polish, going with the grain. Repeat.

2) Spot still there? Use a cotton swab to dab rubbing alcohol onto the stain; rub with a cloth.

3) Wait five minutes; blot and repeat. Follow with furniture polish to restore moisture to the wood.

I really love this magazine! To get your own free preview issue, go here.

Tug-o-War

We didn't know how much we each needed a friend...

So close, and yet so far

Okay, so here's the truth: Winston is a sweetie. He is much more calm than we originally thought, now that he's away from the environment of the SPCA. He is already learning to heel when we take him and Pippin for a walk. He sleeps great in his crate, and he holds his urine all night and does a huge morning pee when we first get him up. He goes potty in his potty spot every single time we take him out there. He seems very happy to be here, and very eager to please.

And yet I have to keep one eye on him (literally) at ALL times. Does he chew on inappropriate things in my house? No. Do I fear he might attack one of the children or Pippin, the other dog? No. Does he just flagrantly pee or poop in my house? Growl or snap at us? Bark all day long? Make a mad dash up the stairs? Runaway and make us chase him? No, no, no, no, and no.

So, what's the problem?

Christmas trees. Ever notice that your Christmas tree is a large outdoor tree, brought indoors and set up in your living room? Ever thought about the fact that it looks just like the tree the dog pees on in your backyard?

Ditto houseplants.

Technically, peeing on them is really, really close to right. So close, and yet so far...

For this I gave up holiday baking and addressing Christmas cards before Christmas??! Well, I don't really need the extra calories... my neighbors have made it lots of years now without homemade Christmas treats... and I've not been on time with a Christmas card, ever.

But isn't this just worth it??!

Welcoming Winston

I've been meaning to write a post called "Awaiting Winston" for several days now; he was supposed to come home last Thursday but was unable to. He had kennel cough, which disallowed his intubation, which prevented his neutering surgery, which delayed his homecoming.

We were ready for him, yet he couldn't come. We had prepared a place for him... a crate... bowls... food... a collar... tags with his new name and contact information for our home. It sounds silly to make much of it, as if it is some profound thing, but it has been a profoundly moving experience for me, preparing for this dog. Moreso than when we adopted Pippin into our home - we found Pip and brought him home the same day, getting all the "stuff" we needed for him after the fact - this experience of preparing for this dog ahead of time has reminded me in some small way of my adoption as a child of God.

The Lord has set His love upon me, based on no actual merits of my own. He knows my sinful nature, my tendency toward selfishness and wrongdoing and sin, and yet He has chosen me for His family... welcomed me to join His Kingdom work despite His full knowledge of how much I'll fail... of what a pain I'll continue to be, despite my best efforts...

Very few ever love with even a shadow of that grace, that mercy, that forbearance and acceptance and tenacity. It is agape love... God-love...

Don't get me wrong. I do not mean to suggest that I have this sort of love for my new dog. But preparing for his arrival into my home has reminded me, ever so slightly, of how God chooses to call me His own, despite His certain knowledge of my impending and continual failure. This dog is not at all like any dog we've ever owned before. Interestingly, it is the first dog we've ever considered adopting which iivo has appreciated from the get-go... and the first one I've ever not liked from the start. This must be a "man's dog," of sorts.

But I'm very aware of his faults and flaws. He sheds terribly. He's big and a little wild. He has a destructively waggy tail. He has oozing wounds on his ears. He is a jumper. He is not housebroken. All in all, he has little to commend him to the potential adopter. And yet we have chosen him. We have received him, set our love on him, agreed to "instruct him and teach him in the way he should go," and committed to call him our own even when he fails to do so.

And so, I present to you Winston, the newest canine member of our family. (He's pretty dopey in this video, taken just hours after his surgery.)

The Elephant Song

My daughter, who really does love elephants, sent me this song. I think it is very cute, and that small children would find it hilarious. Enjoy...

Dog Love

Steve Allen purportedly once said, "Old men miss many dogs." It is true of middle-aged women, as well... I still miss our sweet Little, even as I'm enjoying getting to know our new friend, Pippin. This weekend we will take him camping with us for the first time. Little used to love it. We'll see about this little guy that barks at all noises coming from outside when we leave the bedroom windows open at night. If Pip is one of these "bark all night at the campsite" dogs, I'll go nuts.

My father sent me this sweet song a few weeks ago, and it still makes me smile. It highlights the remarkable fact that canine love often seems enduring and unconditional, reminding us of that heavenly love which truly is enduring and unconditional. As George Eliot once said, "We long for an affection altogether ignorant of our faults. Heaven has accorded this to us in the uncritical canine attachment."



I'm not sure my dog really "loves" me at all, but merely appreciates my care for him and views me as the pack leader, in true canine fashion. But he does turn a truly blind eye to all my faults and flaws, which is more than most people in my life. (I have a lot of faults and flaws. It is hard to be blind to them, and even harder to bear with them with grace.) Andy Rooney once observed that, "The average dog is nicer than the average person." He was probably right. One of my goals in life is to love those the Lord puts into my path with the same sort of uncritical spirit that my dog extends to me. (I am very critical, both of myself and of those around me.)

I don't "love like my dog" well yet, but I am confident that, "He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it," and so I continue to hold out hope. Laugh if you will. I truly do hope to one day love as uncritically as my dog does...

Dog Lessons

Today I received an email from a friend entitled "Dog Lessons." Most of you have probably already seen it. Since I thought it was cute, and since I'm not much of the "forward on an email" type, I decided to do the Blog equivalent and post it here. Those of you who have loved and owned dogs will appreciate this tribute to them...

If a dog were the teacher you would learn stuff like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

When it's in your best interest, practice obedience.

Let others know when they've invaded your territory.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back in the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout. Run right back and make friends.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.

Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

The picture at the top of this post is the picture of Pippin that they took while he was at the pound. Although he looks like he's missing his right eyeball, he is not. We are still struck daily by how different he is from Little, whom we still miss very much, by the way.

Even as I type this, Pip is sitting on the floor next to me just quietly staring up at me. I never know if he's happy or not. Little was very "jolly" and waggy and pant-y and excited most of the time. Pip is mellow and calm. He likes to be where we are in the house. He often wags his little stump of a cropped tail. He brings a ball and drops it at my feet to play fetch. He runs to the door and wants to go along if anyone is leaving to go somewhere. But he's just generally less expressive than Little was, so he doesn't seem as thrilled about life as Little did.

I hope he likes it here.

Toxic Foods for Dogs

My children were concerned - as I went to give the scrambled egg scraps to Pippin this morning - that I was poisoning the dog. Although we always gave our egg scraps to Little, suddenly they have become convinced that eggs are toxic to dogs and shouldn't be given to them. A little Internet research later, I have discovered that only raw eggs are dangerous to dogs.

(Go figure... I assume that raw is the only way they would get them "in the wild," if there ever was such a thing for most domestic breeds of dogs. But I digress...)

SO, just to set the record straight (assuming the dozen or so websites I checked are correct), cooked eggs are a safe and tasty treat for your canine friend. Just don't give them to him raw.

By the way, I did learn some new things that my dog shouldn't eat. I had already known that he shouldn't eat chocolate or have bones from chicken (unless they've been boiled into a hearty stock for 24 hours and can be easily crushed - see here for directions), but I hadn't realized that the following are also bad for dogs to eat: macademia nuts, fat or bones from beef, grapes or raisins, processed baby food, onions or garlic, alcoholic beverages, avacados, tomatoes, and mushrooms.

Milk and dairy products, it says, will cause diarrhea in the 50% of dogs who are lactose-intolerant. (Oh, please! So no more cheese?)

Anyway, the list above is far from exhaustive, and you may click on any of those links to see more thorough lists. One thing's for sure: it is enough to convince you that you should probably stick to dog food and dog treats, for the most part, and skip giving him the leftover eggs even if they're not toxic when cooked.

That and the fact that he might throw them up anyway. (Just ask PT, who cleaned up Pippin's pile of puke even as I typed this.)

Welcome Home, Pippin

I have so many thoughts... so many unpublished, unfinished "drafts" from the last couple of weeks... there has been much musing, spiritual and otherwise... there have been many tears...

But, I can't tarry, waiting for all of them to get processed and finished and posted. The kids are asking for a photo post to share our news... we have a new canine member of our family.


We took to heart the admonition of former President Ronald Reagan: "The best way to get over a dog's death is to get another soon."

So, here is introducing our new little friend, Pippin. He is a cocker spaniel rescue from the local pound, and he is so sweet and gentle and soft and dear. We are very much enjoying getting to know him, and very much enjoying having a dog in our home again. We still miss Little so very much, but we are happy to have another soft fuzzy friend to love on...

Remembering Little

Part of the way I've been handling the grief of the sudden, tragic death of our sweet Little is to work on a "memory book" about her. It has been therapeutic for me, and a huge blessing to the kids, now that it is here. You can view a copy of it online here.

A highlight of the book, in my opinion, is an article I found entitled "Do Dogs Go to Heaven?" by Randy Alcorn. Before you scoff, know that he quotes theological heavy-weights like John Piper and Joni Eareckson Tada, and leaves you with more than a little hope that you might get to see your special animal friend again one day...

Goodbye, Little

I am writing with the sad news that our beloved pet dog, Little, was struck by a car and killed this evening. I would like to ask you to pray for our children, who are deeply sad and grieving... but especially for OG.

Little had run away across the road in front of our house, and OG went after her to try to retrieve her. Little decided to play a game of "I can make you chase me" (this was one of her favorites) and darted across the large highway beside our house into the median. OG, fearful and worried that Little might get hit by a car, called her to come back. Although Little was not an obedient dog, and would literally NEVER come when called, she turned and headed back toward OG. She ran right in front of a car, who apparently swerved to try to avoid her, but could not. Although Little was not run over, she was struck by the car and passed under it - and OG did witness the whole thing. She heard the yelp and both heard and witnessed the impact.

We were having Bible study/music practice at our home at the time. OG ran into the house by way of the front door, screaming.

OG is our quietest, most introspective child, so we want to pray for her a healthy processing of this whole experience, without any undue guilt or self-blame. Please also pray this same thing for the woman who struck Little. She stopped (as did the car behind her who witnessed the whole thing), and she was pretty distraught. Several people waited and cried and talked with us ("us" being our family and the many members of the worship team who were at our house when it happened) while we waited for the Animal Control emergency vet to arrive and confirm that Little was dead.

We were able to talk together and process things, and we were able to bury Little - with her favorite chew toy under her head like she liked to sleep - but the children are still quite sad and are having a hard time getting to sleep.

They are asking hard "why" questions and are not sure how to engage them.

Please just pray for our family as we move through this night and these next days of grief. We're so thankful no people were hurt, of course, and yet we're missing our sweet little friend of a dog.