A cat, after being scolded, goes about its business. A dog slinks off into a corner and pretends to be doing a serious self-reappraisal. ~ Robert Brault

"Free to good home. Female Golden Retriever, 6 years old, spayed, all shots. Rescued kennel dog. Gentle, but very timid. Needs patient family."

No one cared. Not one called. G-Doggie's still here, hiding in the back corner of the yard behind the berry vines.

But she has grown increasingly unhappy with her spot. We did some yard work last week. We cleaned out the garden, pulling the heirloom tomato plant that never fruited and the grape tomato plant that was dying. I trimmed the blossoms from the basil and pulled weeds. Tom cut off all the runners from the wisteria and removed all the spent berry stalks. That's when he'd gone too far. It made G-Doggie's hideout more visible. Now, when she lays behind the vines that remain, you can see her...and she can see you. Oh, God, nooooooo!!!!

She found another, more private spot, so we had to put up a little wire gate in front of the compost pile. She'd dug a nice little bed for herself in the far corner between the fence and the compost pile. We discovered her new habitat when, after I didn't see her in the yard, I called her and she came running around the fence from the compost pile. She was covered head to toe with black compost and compost was clumped on her wet nose. She'd been digging and I had to clean her off before I could even let her in the house. Last weekend, Tom put up the wire gate from the leftover fencing we bought earlier in the summer.

So, G-Doggie's back behind the berry vines. Oh, she'd much prefer the comfy, very private bed she made in the compost pile. How do I know that? Because she will periodically come out from behind the berries and walk around the yard. As she makes her circle, she walks by the fenced compost pile and stops and looks at the wire gate. Then looks at the back door of the house. Then looks back at the wire gate. Then continues to the back corner behind the berry vines. She's pissed. I know it. Well, she's as pissed off as much as G-Doggie can be pissed off. It's like she has episodes of dog tourettes. You see she's pissed; it's there; then it's gone in a flash, like nothing has happened. But, every time she walks by the wire gate, she does exactly the same thing. She stops and looks at the gate, then looks at the back door, then looks back at the gate, then walks back to her spot behind the berries.

I don't know, maybe she thinks she's dreaming and is hoping she will wake up and the wire gate will have been merely a nightmare. Or, maybe she's just pissed and is scoping out the gate, trying to figure out how she's going to get around or through it.

In any case, we still have G-Doggie. The ad is running again this week, but no calls so far. If no one calls, she's ours for good. We talked about it. It's really the only alternative. I can't and won't take her to a shelter. Even if all she does is lie around and nap 24/7, she will just have to do that here. Besides, G-Doggie is the only animal we have ever owned that has been so completely non-threatening that my mother-in-law actually reached out to pet her head one time. If you knew my mother-in-law, you would know that is HUGE because she does not like animals.

Yep, so far G-Doggie is not going anywhere, except maybe to the kennel when we travel and can't take her.

On another note, we are new parents! No, not another child. That would require a miracle; one which would make us very rich when we sold our miracle story to the National Inquirer. It's not a human baby, but fish baby!

Last summer (2008) we bought six smallish goldfish and six Plecostomus (we call them simply "Suckers") for the pond. We fed them all summer and fall, and when winter set in, stopped. This spring, the goldfish have more than doubled their size and all of them have huge fantails. They are so pretty. I have no idea what the suckers look like. We never see them. I don't even know if they survived.

I've read enough about ponds and goldfish to know that they might even have baby fish, but the likelihood of the baby fish surviving is slim because the bigger fish will eat them. Earlier this summer, when Tom was cleaning the pump, he pulled out a very small, but very dead fish. Darn! No survivors. Until the other day when I was feeding the fish, I caught a glimpse of a small 7th goldfish less than an inch long, with a small fantail. Very cool, huh?

I think I will call him "Bruiser"... that is, until I can't tell him apart from the other fish, and then I will have to call him by the generic "Fishy" that I use to address his Fish-Mom, Fish-Dad and other Fish-Relatives. I'm sure he'll just want to be considered part of the crowd.

What Is Wrong With Me??

I am waiting ~ for the fourth day in a row ~ for some worker to get to my house "first thing in the morning" (it's now 9:15AM) to finish up the new A/C installation so I can get my errands accomplished.

When we arrived home Friday about 4:30PM the inside temperature was 88 degrees. I thought it was because I had set the thermostat to "vacation hold," but then I realized that I had set it to 80 degrees. The fan was going, but the air wasn't cool. I removed the "hold" but still no cool air.

As the evening approached, the air outdoors cooled down and temperatures were supposed to be around 72 degrees, so we opened all the windows, turned on all the fans and hoped for the best. Our bedroom didn't get below 85 degrees all night.

We had already planned to have our cooling and heating system completely replaced when we got back. While we were away, our A/C guy called Tom and asked him if he could started on the installation. Since we weren't home, Tom scheduled them to begin last Saturday.

The installers finished most of it Saturday night about 7:00PM and within an hour and a half, the temperature in the house dipped from 87.2 degrees to a very cool and very welcomed 72 degrees. The installers skipped Sunday to finish up, but came back yesterday and were here until after noon. Another guy was supposed to come by later and clean up (he had the truck). The only errand I was able to fit in was a trip to the post office to mail Mike's card for his upcoming birthday.

This morning I am waiting for the gas guys to come and hook up the gas line. They were supposed to be here "first thing," but apparently my "first thing" and their "first thing" are completely different "first things."

Tom and I have made some decisions over the last couple of weeks.

Today I will tackle the Goldie aka Poop Dogg aka G-Doggie issue. We have been talking about her a lot. We've gone back and forth, yes and no, go or stay, guilt ridden then definitive and back through all the thoughts, decisions and emotions again many times over.

After we lost our cat, Freebie, over a year ago, we started looking for a dog. We knew we wanted either a Shi Tzu or a Golden Retriever, two very different types of dogs. During the 1980's we had Gizmo, our happy-go-lucky, funny, beloved Shi Tzu for about 4 years and we loved him. We were devastated when he was injured beyond repair and had to have him put him to sleep. We bought another Shi Tzu shortly after we lost Gizmo, but before we could get attached to him, he somehow got out of the back yard and just disappeared one day. We didn't try again after that.

Fast forward to Goldie. We had been looking at different dogs and thought a Golden Retriever would be a good choice. They are supposed to be friendly, playful, loyal, wonderful companion dogs. Goldie's owner had contacted our veterinarian's office to tell them she was giving away her Golden Retriever breeder female. It just so happened that Tom stopped by their office a couple of days later and asked about Golden Retriever breeders. The rest is history.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you know that Goldie did not come without problems, but certainly not problems we could have anticipated. We took her to the vet within two days of taking her home and she tested positive for heart worm and was subsequently treated. Although a very gentle dog, she continues to be extremely timid and fearful regardless of how much interaction and praise she receives from us or others, so much so that true socialization has been impossible. This last trip to Savannah only served to emphasize her lack of progress over the last 16 months. It was sad and frustrating.

Tom and I discussed traveling with Goldie in the future and agreed that it was actually better and Goldie was happier staying at the kennel while we traveled. I think we realized, too, that she is just happier in a kennel...period. She had spent 6 years in a kennel and that's where she feels safe and comfortable.

We could build a kennel for her and keep her there like her previous owner did and she would be, if not happy, very comfortable and feel secure. I don't feel comfortable doing that. And, we wanted a companion dog and poor Goldie is certainly not that.

To be honest, I cannot see myself continuing to attempt to socialize and interact with Goldie without seeing some sort of progress and Tom feels the same way. I don't want to have to leash her to a chair to make her stay in the same room with me, instead of running to hide in the living room between the couch and coffee table, a small space which, for her, replicates the small space of a kennel. I hate it that she still continues to slink in fear when Tom or I call her. I hate that she still almost always walks with her tail between her legs. I hate that she still darts out of a room in sheer terror if I drop something on floor ~ a shoe, a spoon...anything. I hate that she is still afraid of everything, including the kittens at Chris' house. I hate that she has no instinctual interest in anything ~ other animals, other people ~ and really has not developed any sort of personality.

Over this last vacation, I realized that either Goldie will NEVER be a companion dog or I am completely unable or unwilling or both to put in the work required to help her become one. So, the bottom line? Today, sadly and with guilt, I am putting an ad in the paper to give her away to a family that IS willing and able to give that to her. She just deserves more than I can give her.

Taking Pleasure in the Little Things in Life...

Tom's sister is away for the week. She left town last Saturday. And, since she is sort of "the designated person" to see to the needs of her (their) parents, it shifts to us when she is gone.

We received an email from Christina last Friday, letting us know how long she would be gone and that (1) Tom's dad was craving Mexican food (Taco Bell), but didn't want to call and ask Tom to take him to TB or pick up the food and take it over to their place; and (2) Tom's dad has been itching to go to Tunica to gamble his $20, but won't call to ask Tom to take him.

Saturday morning when we got back from the Farmer's Market, Tom called his parents to propose a choice for Sunday dinner: Tom would go get them the Taco Bell food of their choice and deliver it to their place or Tom would pick them up (they no longer drive) and they could come to our house for dinner. Ultimately they chose dinner at our house even though we weren't having Mexican food.

We have been working hard at training Poop Dogg to inhabit the room where we are, rather than hiding/sleeping in the living room behind the coffee table. So every time we go into a different room, we call her. She doesn't like it one bit, so every time we turn our backs, she dives back into the living behind the coffee table. Then we have to call her back out and tell her "stay!" and hope it sticks. It's a never ending battle.

Sunday while we were preparing and serving dinner, we called her into the dining room. She doesn't sit next to your chair. She doesn't demand attention. She doesn't beg. At first, she will sit quietly, but with her eyes constantly darting towards the doorway to the living room, plotting her eventual departure. But, finally, after a couple of thwarted attempts at escape, she will just lay down and fall asleep, the activity for which she possesses the utmost talent. Sunday afternoon she did just that, laying down next to my mother-in-law's chair with her head resting on the bottom rung of the chair and quickly falling asleep.

We do our best to engage her, but she's resistant and seems to resent our efforts to interact with us. She just sleeps. And she's perfectly comfortable sleeping her entire life away. Of course, that is what bugs me. I wanted a companion dog. I wanted a friendly dog. I wanted a dog that's happy to see me when I get home. Nope. That's not her. So I bug her, sometimes mercilessly, moving from chair to chair or room to room, calling her, waking her up, making her move.

As she laid there on the dining room floor, sound asleep, I just couldn't help myself. When I stood up from the table, she opened her eyes because she heard me move from my chair to get my camera...

I just know she's thinking, WHUUUUUTTT???

Don't think I'm just being mean. I'm really doing her a favor. It's the only exercise she gets. And I get a good giggle out of it every time.