Posts filed under ‘Family’
The Piddling Puggle
The Piddling Puggle
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been having a new challenge with that cute little ‘ol puggle of mine. Yes, the one and only Walker Texas Ranger AKA Chuck Norris.
About two months ago he began having seizures; watching my dog have a seizure and not being able to do anything to help him is one of the most awful experiences I’ve ever had. I didn’t know what was happening. He became stiff, paws out straight, tongue hanging, drooling buckets. He shook and his eyes bulged. He looked so scared and helpless. I was scared and helpless and a mess. So off to the vet we went …
An exam, blood test, prescription for phenobarbitol twice a day and about $200 later we were off to a brighter, seizure-free future. Giving Walker a pill twice a day is easy; stick it inside a Snausage and he gobbles it up. Much easier than giving a pill to the cats, who tend to be more wary. So, phenobarbitol – great. Only about $11 a month. No problemo. I can handle that. One of the side effects of the medication however is increased thirst and with that … increased urination. But my boy could go for 12 hours without having to be walked. He’d be fine. Or maybe not.
Of all the spots he could pick in the entire house … he picked to pee up against the stove. The stove! Why the stove?!? And when I say he pees, I mean he PPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS! The worst part is that the pee travels and spreads onto the floor and soaks into the base of the kitchen cabinet beside the stove. This. Is. Not. Good.
So, I began walking him four to five times a day. Like clockwork he wakes me up at 6:45 a.m. We walk. I shower, get ready for work. We walk. I come home from work, and we walk. We walk again around 8pm. We play. We walk again around 11:00 p.m., and then we sleep. Until the piddling puggle’s internal clock or in this case his bladder wakes him up and he cries to wake me up so we can walk and start over again.
All that walking, and still, at times, he pees. Same spot. I rig wee wee pads on top of garbage bags, but it still doesn’t seem to be enough coverage for the puddles of pee this puggle leaves. While desperately seeking solutions through Google searches and posing the question to friends on Facebook (a great resource!), a poem came to mind that my now 93-year-old Uncle Steve recites to entertain family and friends. Amidst all the frustration the rhyme about a little piddling pup named Rex made me smile:
A farmer’s dog came into town,
His Christian name was Rex,
A noble pedigree had he,
Unusual was his text.
And as he trotted down the street
`Twas beautiful to see,
His work on every corner-
His work on every treeHe watered every gateway too,
And never missed a post.
For piddling was his specialty,
And piddling was his boast
The City Curs looked on, amazed
With deep and jealous rage,
To see a simple country dog
The piddler of the age.Then all the dogs from everywhere
Were summoned with a yell,
To sniff the country stranger o’er
And judge him by the smell.
Some thought that he a king might be,
Beneath his tail a rose,
So every dog drew near to him
And sniffed him up their nose.They smelled him over one by one,
They smelled him two by two,
And noble Rex, in high disdain,
Stood still till they were through.
Then just to show the whole Shebang,
He didn’t give a damn,
He trotted in a grocery store,
And piddled on a ham.He piddled in a mackeral keg-
He piddled on the floor,
And when the grocer kicked him out
He piddled through the door.
Behind him all the city dogs,
Lined up with instinct true,
To start a piddling carnival,
And see the stranger through.They showed him every piddling post,
They had in all the town,
And started in with many a wink,
To piddle the stranger down.
They sent for champion piddlers
Who were always on the go,
Who sometimes did a piddling stunt
Or gave a piddle show.They sprung these on him suddenly
When midway through the town,
Rex only smiled and polished off
The ablest white or brown.
For Rex was with them every trick,
With vigor and with vim.
A thousand piddles more or less
Were all the same to him.So he was wetting merrily,
With hind leg kicking high,
When most were hoisting legs in bluff,
And piddling mighty dry.
On and on, Rex sought new grounds,
By piles and scraps and rust.
Till every city dog went dry,
And piddled only dustBut on and on went noble Rex,
As wet as any rill,
And all the champion city pups
were piddled to a standstill.
Then Rex did free-hand piddling,
With fancy flirts and flits,
Like “double dip” and “gimlet twist”,
And all those latest hits.And all the time this country dog,
Did never wink or grin,
But piddled blithely out of town,
As he had piddled in.The city dogs, a conversation held,
To ask, “What did defeat us?”
But no one ever put them wise
That Rex had diabetes!
Of course, being a hypochondriac and an overreacting fur people Mama, I am ignoring the last line referring to diabetes. That’s all I need! We’re off to the vet tomorrow for another $100+ visit to see what we can do to help the pup AND me! If that doesn’t work out maybe I can turn him into a champion piddler and teach him the “double dip” and “gimlet twist”. Then someday the adventures of my piddling puggle will become famous and end up paying for all of these challenging adventures. Hey, a girl can dream.
Life is never dull with Walker Texas Ranger!
Related articles
- To “Piddle” or Not to Piddle??? (babyjill7.wordpress.com)
- Tale of A Furry Savior (cupcakesandcatfood.com)
- When a Pug and a Beagle Fall in Love, It’s a Puggle – WSJ.com (policyabcs.wordpress.com)
- Cuteness ATTACK. Mostly pugs. & Puppies. (sugarpeep.wordpress.com)
This is the day …
At the risk of sounding like a holy roller, with all my recent talk of spirituality and religion, I have to say … “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” And what a day it is! Later on this evening I will attend an event to honor my lovely Aunt and Uncle for their volunteer efforts and commitment to community and a good friend has just gotten the wonderful news that she is cancer free.
My aunt and uncle have volunteered time helping the Salvation Army for as long as I can remember. When my sweet Mama was alive, she and my aunt, her sister whom we lovingly call “Auntie”, gave their time helping at the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen, cooking and serving. During the holidays my Mama would help with interviewing families to see what their needs were and what the
children would like most for Christmas. Auntie and her handsome hubby, Uncle Steve, would and still do spend long days and nights through the holiday season counting the money donated through the kettle program.
Auntie is 83 and Uncle Steve is 93. I repeat – 83 and 93! And they are still helping; still giving of themselves for the sake of others. I can only hope to live a life of charity like they have. They make the world a better place.
My good friend Sue got the word today that she is cancer free! Having gotten the opposite of words more times than any one person should have to hear them, it was a hip-hip-hooray-cocktails-and-cake-are-in-order moment when she shared the news. You can read more about it, in her own words, on her fabulous blog.
So the first thing that came to mind when I realized what a wonderful day it was were the words that my Mama and Auntie used to sing, “this is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” Every day really is a gift, but I am especially grateful for days like these; days filled with positive news that should be shared and shouted out for the world (or at least just the readers of this blog) to hear.
Although today is a joy-filled one for me, there are many people out there who are suffering and struggling; perhaps through the harsh news of a cancer diagnosis, or the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job with worries of providing for their family. The good news is that we can help others. By each of us doing our small part we can make a big difference. Maybe you have time, maybe you have financial resources, whatever it is that you have to give, pick a cause and go for it. You’ll be filled with joy when you do!
A Pathway to Peace
Lately I find that I constantly have the Prayer of St. Francis running through my head, and perhaps, my soul. It’s a prayer that
reminds me of my parents, and I have been thinking of them a lot lately. The prayer in song was a part of my mother’s funeral mass; I remember it well, because it was the moment when I “lost it”. I can’t recall if it was sung at my father’s mass, that seems like so long ago, and such a blur.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love with all my soul.For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen
I believe that my parents, truly tried to live life like this prayer. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that we had a statue of St. Francis in the back yard, and my parents always enjoyed visiting Graymoor, the home of the Franciscan Sisters and Friars of the Atonement. I remember my sweet Mama always giving me advice and consoling me with phrases like: “’tis better to give than to receive”, “just imagine what must be so wrong in that person’s life to make them act that way. you should feel bad for them”, “if someone asks you to borrow a quarter and you have one to give, you should, and ask them not to pay you back, but to pass it on to the next person who needs it”.
I’m sure that at the time that these words of wisdom were shared with me, my reaction probably included eye rolling and a sigh of “ohhhh mom”. But how blessed am I to have been taught such lessons? Lessons that would come to comfort me at times when I need it most, and to have been raised by parents who truly wanted peace, for everyone.
I know I’ve written before about a desire to connect with and find my faith, my own spiritual path. While my parents were devout Catholics, I have struggled to connect with the Church as of late. I think one thing that I have discovered is, that in my soul, I am drawn to live a life committed to finding and sharing a pathway to peace; much like the ways of St. Francis and my beautiful, loving parents.
Related articles
- A Prayer of Service and Reminder to Praise Him (danielnm.wordpress.com)
- Tomb of St. Francis back in the pink (cbc.ca)
- It just takes a measure of faith (barefootpreachr.org)
If I Had to Give an Acceptance Speech I’d Be Screwed
I was doing so well keeping up with this challenge on consecutive days, but this weekend was a busy one. I was lucky enough to help with the Forever Jordan Foundation’s (FJF) Take A Bite Out of Rockland event on Saturday. It was the fundraiser’s debut and boy was it a success! Congratulations!
Because of the event I also got to spend some special quality time with my sister Joann. We stayed up until after midnight on Friday night baking dozens of mini black & white cookies to contribute to the FJF fundraiser. We always seem to laugh until we cry when we spend time together. Add that to the delirium of sugar overload from taste testing the confections and the late hour and you definitely have a recipe for a good time.
Today’s list is challenging because I have waaaaaayyyyy more than five people in my life who mean a lot. Plus I am catholic and the guilt of leaving people out gives me agida (see, I’m Italian too, so that’s a double whammy of guilt!). Watching all the award shows this season I really feel for the winners as they give their acceptance speeches trying to squeeze in everyone that they need to thank and then that dreaded wrap-it-up music starts to play. If I had to give an acceptance speech I’d totally be screwed.
So bear with me here as I tackle this particular list in my own way in a wrap-it-up music-free zone.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever).
My siblings. My three brothers and three sisters who are the roots of my family. They are the connection to family traditions, anecdotes and treasures. No matter how far apart we may be from one another, we are always connected.- My nieces & nephews. They are the link to the future. The ones who will continue to carry on the traditions that were taught to my siblings by our parents. They are smiles, and giggles, and hope.
- Auntie & Uncle Steve. One of the most beautiful love stories I’ve ever known. Married for 60 years. A shared faith that can move mountains. They have been a second set of parents to me.
- My friends. Wacky, silly, serious, talented, creative, caring, loving, forgiving. They accept me for who I am. Help me along the path of becoming who I am meant to be.
- My Mama & Daddy. Without them I wouldn’t be here. Although they have passed away and are not here physically, they are still a part of my daily life. Their love comforts me and inspires me. I can still hear my beautiful Mama singing to me “pick yourself up, brush yourself off and start all over again” and my sweet, stubborn Daddy saying “shit or get off the pot!”. I strive to be a person they can be proud to watch over from heaven.
Related Articles
- Relative Peace (psychologytoday.com)
- Similar Genes, Different Personalities (parenting.blogs.nytimes.com)
- Whatever Happened to Guilt? (psychologytoday.com)
- Some MORE of My Favorite Things (And Peeps) (cupcakesandcatfood.com)
- What Crosses My ADD Mind (cupcakesandcatfood.com)
- How to Accept an Oscar (patspapers.com)
Simple Sunday
Keeping things simple for this Sunday post by sharing some fun photos of my nieces Amelia and Cleo. I have seven nephews and six nieces as well as three grand-nieces and one grand-nephew. I’m not playing favorites here. I love them all equally. My Mama would say she loved us all the same but would love the one the most who needed her the most.
What is unique about Amelia and Cleo is that I have experienced them as an adult. Many of the others were born when I was as young as six-years-old so they were almost like brothers and sisters or cousins. Amelia and Cleo also live fairly close to me, which has allowed me to watch them change and grow since they were born.
So here are the lovely, wacky, stubborn, silly, creative and curios Amelia and Cleo …
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Between the Years
Yesterday, as I read through my daily blog subscriptions, a particular post caught my eye. The post called The Dash on Tales of a (Recovering) Disordered Eater referenced and shared a beautiful poem called “The Dash” by Linda Ellis. I’d never heard of it before, and I think I was meant to read it just when I did.
I’ve been a bit dreary this week. The blah-ness started to kick in on Monday, and at first I didn’t realize why. I thought maybe it had to do with the weather or needing to get myself to the gym more regularly, or perhaps the New Year’s detox I’ve put myself on. And then I realized that this was the week that was leading into the third anniversary of my mother’s passing.
It’s amazing how my subconscious is always aware of the dates that hold
significance for me on the calendar of life. It feels like just yesterday that I wrote the post Sixth Month Sadness about mourning for my sweet Mama just six months after losing her, and here it is, three years later exactly today, January 21, 2011.
The beauty of the post on Tales of a (Recovering) Disordered Eater reminded me that while these significant dates may be hard to get through, it is the dash between the years of our lives that matters most. What we do between the beginning and end of our time here on earth is what will be remembered, and my Mama certainly lived a full, meaningful life leaving us with many fond memories.
Below are the inspirational words of “The Dash” by Linda Ellis. You can also watch “The Dash” movie here, which is the words set to beautiful images and music.
The Dash by Linda Ellis
There was a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came her date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash stands for all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars the house the cash
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
We’d be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
Cos that dash stands for all the time
That you spent alive on earth
And only those who loved you
Know what that little line is worth
It matters not how much you own
The cars the house the cash
What matters is how you live and love
And how you spend your dash
What matters is how you live and love
And how you spend your dash.
Today, I am especially going to reflect on and celebrate how my Mama spent her dash, and think about how I can do a better job of making the most of mine.
How will you spend your dash?
In loving memory of Anna “Nina” Amelia Verderosa Curtis
March 12, 1932 – January 21, 2008
The Warmth of Winter
It’s the second significant snowfall of the winter for us here in the NY metropolitan area. Grocery stores were mobbed last night in anticipation of the impending frosty precipitation (I know this because I was one of the members of said mob). Today, schools were closed and community activities cancelled. The prediction was six to nine inches. I haven’t gone out with my handy-dandy snow ruler to measure yet, but it’s nothing compared to the 18 inches that we got last week with violent winds causing up to four feet snow drifts. Still enough to cause a frenzy though.
While I’m not a huge fan of the freezing temps of the season, I must admit winter has grown on me. Something I never thought I would say, but there ya go – I said it. Not sure what has happened to me in my old age! Perhaps it’s the nostalgia that comes with the season and its simple comforts.
The snow makes me think of days off from school when I was young and my Mama getting me bundled up to go out and play in the white blossoms. She would put plastic baggies over my socks before she helped me shove my feet into not-so-easy slip-on boots. She’d give me a hug and a kiss, and I was off to go sleigh riding on the massive hill at the nearby neighborhood school.
It was thrilling, and it also scared the bejesus out of me the first time down the steep, slippery slope! When the fun was done and we were too cold to play any longer and too tired to keep climbing up that hill, I’d head home right back into my Mama’s arms. Just as she’d gotten me into my cold weather armor, she got me out. My feet were always dry, thanks to the baggies! She’d place my wet outer gear on the old radiators to dry, something I still do to this day, and then she’d take my cold hands and put them under her arms and squeeze them tight to warm them up.
From the time I was born, my Mama’s touch seemed to be the only thing that could warm me up just right. The story, as Mama would tell me, was that I had a bad case of jaundice when I was born and my body temperature was very low. They had me under heat lamps, but that didn’t seem to work. There was a nurse who believed in more of the old-fashioned ways and suggested Mama hold me against the bare skin of her chest. And, it did the trick.
After a good day of sledding, hot cocoa was a must! And Mama always had it ready to go. Mmmmm sweet warmth topped with marshmallows. I still love it! I don’t do much sledding anymore, but I always keep some on hand for chilly nights. There was an article in the local newspaper just the other day about hot chocolate recipes, which I am dying to try. We’re talkin’ real chocolate, with milk and dressing it up with yumminess like Nutella and ginger. That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!
Sometimes, as an extra special treat on a winter’s night, Mama would make pancakes for dinner. Breakfast for dinner? I thought the woman was genius! Delicious, fluffy pancakes with butter and syrup and a side of plump sausages. As fate would have it, I read a blog post just yesterday by the Austin Gastronomist for Cinnamon Apple Pancake Cake, another recipe I am going to have to try this winter along with those hot chocolates!
So, this year I’m going to try to slow down and enjoy the beauty of the season that I used want to rush through as fast as I could. Despite the frenzy that will come with each snowfall, the shoveling, and the frigid temps, there is so much warmth that is to be had from the small comforts of winter.
My Heart
I received a catalogue in the mail from Garden Botanika this week. GB used to be one of my favorite mall stores until it closed up shop and went to online/catalogue business only. Anyway … they make a wonderful fragrance called Heart; it’s a beautiful, fresh, clean scent. I used to get compliments all the time when I wore it. But I realized when I received the catalogue that I haven’t worn it for a few years.
Every Christmas my mother would stock me up with Heart. Heart perfume. Heart body wash. Heart body scrub. Heart lotion. Even though I came to expect it, it was still a pleasant surprise when I unwrapped the beautifully scented goodies on Christmas morning. Perhaps the best thing was the look on her face as I opened them. Giving me a gift she knew made me happy was her happiness.
My sweet Mama passed away almost three years ago. The last Christmas she was with us was the last supply of Heart I received.
How fitting that the woman who was my heart, consistently gave me the gift of Heart.
This holiday season I hope to give love like my mother did, unconditionally and selflessly to as many people as I can. The best part of getting Heart from my mother all those years was not the physical gift, but the life lesson she ultimately taught me: Heart is the best gift you can give to others and to yourself.
May everyone’s heart be filled with love, peace and happiness this holiday season and the whole year through.
Family Treasures …
… no matter how wacky, dysfunctional, unconventional a family may be, there are treasures to be found. Some buried deeper than others, but they’re there. Objects, perhaps. Moments of unforgettable pee-in-your-pants laughter. Tough times that made you stronger. The simplicity of a familiar sound or smell.
I am thankful to have many treasures, some that transport me to the past, some that smack me in the face reminding me to be in the present and those that make me strive for a greater future.
One of my most valuable family treasures is Auntie & Uncle Steve. Auntie (Angelica Lorraine), my Mama’s only sibling, and her husband Uncle Steve have been married for 59 years. She is 82 and he is 92. They built a house together, literally, with their own hands from the bottom up. They volunteer together. They share a lovely faith in God together. They still hold hands. She’s nervous and hot-tempered. He’s calm and mild-mannered. She yells and he can’t hear very well. They live, they love, they laugh. Together, they are one of those rare treasures that encompasses the beauty of the past, present and future. They remind you of where you’ve come from, to be thankful for where you are and to strive for a better tomorrow.
One of the most beautiful bonds they share is the gift of song. Their voices are those of angels on earth. They’ve sung in choral groups together and religiously sing in the church choir every Sunday. They sang at my brother’s wedding, they sing at family gatherings, and no matter the occasion they always sing the same song just before they leave. It’s a tradition that is part of us because of them. The song is a version of “This Was A Real Nice Clambake” from the musical “Carousel”, only they sing “This Was A Real Nice Party”. But you can hear it for yourself! I had to share one of my most valuable family treasures, because it’s just too selfish not to share the wealth.
Thinking Thankfully
Thankful to be stubborn like my Daddy and silly like my Mama
For warm fuzzy socks and cozy pajamas
For new friends and old friends with whom I am blessed
For the family home I am making into my own little nest
For the scent of pumpkin spice and crisp autumn days
And all that I’m learning from the social media craze
For delicious cupcakes and cuddly kitty cats
For concerts, good wine, shoes, purses and hats
For hugs and kisses and creative thinking
For rising to the top and also for sinking
For the journeys I’ve had and the ones still to come
For my crazy, caring family and where I am from
For the good and the bad, the tears and the laughter
And the thrill of the quest for my happily ever after
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
