We Had a Big Year

I'm so behind this year that I sent out my Christmas cards late, and without my usual semi-snarky (but fun! come on!) Christmas letter. It's a shame, really, because this year I actually had some significant goings-on to report (in the human department, that is...there always seems to be something four-leggedly significant happening in my home).

I had all sorts of grand plans for the format and the content, but I dare not give away my ideas...there's always next year, when I will hopefully have my life a little more organized. Truly, the way things have been lately (which is to say, swirling around my head in a tornado of activity and circumstantial frenzy), I am most impressed we even got a card put together.

Merry Christmas, everybody. We hope and pray that 2010 will be as unbelievably blessed and joyous for you as 2009 has been for us.

A Q&A with Bronx

Bronx waited until the last couple of days with us to put on his NaughtyPants. Seriously, he is such a good and sweet little dog...but when he decides to do something against the law, he goes into stealth mode and does it quickly and quietly. Now, I am a vigilant puppy raiser, but this one flew under my radar, and he did it repeatedly.

A Bronx Q&A from the last few days:

Jenny: "What is my shoe doing off the shoe rack? And where is the other one?"
Bronx: "Check the living room, where you were just two minutes ago. It tastes like Disneyland."

Jenny: "Is that an ink pen sticking out of both sides of your mouth?"
Bronx: "Mmhmmf."

Jenny: "Where did my hair tie go? I could have sworn I had it this morning...."
Bronx: "You'll see it again. Probably just after dinner."

Jenny: "What's that giant black lump in the middle of my bed?"
Bronx: "Oh, hi. Enjoy your three-minute bathroom break? The yellow dog just jumped off and ran away, muttering something about the cops, but I'm lovin' this TempurPedic mattress. Wanna join me?"

Jenny: "What are you eating? Open up."
Bronx: "I believe it's excrement. You're gonna wanna wash those fingers."

Rock You Like a Furricane

The Bronx is back. We've been puppysitting him for a week, and when he and Truman are in the same room, it's CrackTown, U.S.A. They simply do not stop without enforced time-outs.

Bronx is a sweet little guy, six months old now and still intact. He's pretty mellow on his own, but he and Truman have been taking turns doing inappropriate things to each other in the name of dominance. It's been hard for me to accomplish anyth-- excuse me for a moment, won't you?

"OFF!"

Ahem! Okay then. So, "Humpus and Grumpus," as I've taken to calling them, are home with me today while Wolf is out doing some steam locomotive stuff and big band music stuff. It's been a long day of absolute nonproductivity for me. I figured I could separate the boys successfully by taking Bronx out on a few errands (it's nice to have a portable dog in the house again), and maybe stopping for coffee somewhere.

But I can't find my keys.

And I'm almost certain they're in Wolf's car.

So I'm pretty sure I'm stuck here in the eye of the furricane until...tomorrow, basically, unless I feel like going out for coffee at 2 A.M., when I expect him home.

A Couple of Twits

And by the way...I'm tweeting now. Follow me @LabradorRodeo, if you're not tired of hearing from me already!

On Very Important Dates

I'm one week away from my six-month wedding anniversary. Among the many things I am foolish enough to have believed I would be able to do by now:

1.) Get the thank you notes out. Emily Post says I have a year to do this, and now I understand why. Still...I'd like to get them written and mailed before I have to start thinking about sending out Christmas cards.

2.) Be entirely unpacked. Grandma used to say that after a move, you should unpack the kitchen and bedroom/bathroom stuff immediately. Whatever's left packed in boxes six months later should be left in the sealed boxes and given away, because clearly, you didn't miss it. Alas, I do not subscribe to this philosophy. I do indeed miss my Jedi action figures and my craft supplies and my Post-It flags and the box of 3x5 cards on which I have written many of my favorite recipes. But life gets in the way of efficiency sometimes. For the record, I am also hoping to have the bulk of this done before...mmmmmmChristmas...?

(Please let me dream, people.)

3.) Get back to regular blogging. Holy cow, I have been busier than the proverbial one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest (another gem from Grandma). Truman has been here through all of it, and I've missed many an opportunity to regale you with his nutty adventures. I know I've promised updates and not delivered -- including wedding photos (another thing I can't seem to get done by the six-month marker, unbelievably)!

This is just a note to say that YellowDog and I are still alive and kicking, and continuing to settle into this new life with the Wonderful Man Who Loves Us Both More Than We Could Ever Have Hoped. If there are any of you still hanging in there, clinging to the idea that I might someday return...many thanks! We'll be back, I promise. And next spring or summer, the puppy raising madness will begin all over again.

And on a happy note, today is Lomax's fifth birthday. And in honor of The Moof, who is living the guide dog life somewhere in Tennessee, I smile and give thanks for the many blessings God provides in the lives of everyone involved with Guide Dogs of America and other service dog organizations all over the world.

Shuffles the Clown vs. the Humpopotamus

Wolf and I are puppysitting little Bronx this weekend; he will be eleven weeks old on Saturday.

It's been a while since I've had a furball this young in my care, Wolf has never had the joyous experience of puppy-induced sleep deprivation, and Truman hasn't had a canine playmate in a while, so we thought it would be a nice way to spend the holiday weekend.

Bronx is a mellow little guy. A champ at sitting, patient with food and water, cuddly and affectionate, excellent recall skills. A good boy, an "easy" puppy.

It will come as no surprise to long-time readers that MY dog-in-residence -- Truman, otherwise known as Dingus McFreaktown -- is the one causing all the chaos. They've done nothing but play and wrestle and squeak and chew and slobber and run in circles and follow each other around since Bronx got here last night. I've had to put the little man in the kennel a few times, just to give him a break from the Yellow Instigator.

Funniest thing? In just twelve hours' time -- including several hours of sleeping last night -- Bronx has done *eleven* Labrador shuffles. Full butt-tuck-and-run, crazy-circle, energy burst shuffles. Indoors. Amazing.

And Truman is very excited to finally be the alpha dog over someone else. Unfortunately, this means that when I haven't been busy getting up to take the little dog outside to pee, I've been busy getting up to pull the big dog off the little one.

I...won't post a photo of that. But we're going to take pictures of them sometime this weekend, and hopefully post those soon. Assuming we can get them to stop moving long enough to focus the camera.

RIP Tigger

Princess Tiger Lily "Tigger" Ackerman Fengler
May 20, 1989 - June 4, 2009



Tonight we celebrate the life of Tigger, who -- having reached the impressive feline age of 20 -- passed away peacefully at home, in her favorite basket, with her adoptive mom (me) and her biggest fan (Truman) by her side.

She lived a full and adventurous life, and was dearly loved by many.

Tigger's many achievements included avid bird hunting, balcony napping, Labrador taunting, ceaseless purring, sofa jumping, ice cream begging, carpet piddling, high-decibel mrrrrRAYRRRing (as any of you who have spoken with me on the phone will attest), and the occasional surprise special guest appearance in my morning shower.

She and Truman shared more in common than either would probably like to admit. Both were accomplished "vocalists," both were the proud recipients of battle-scar notches in their ears, and both had tails that were bent at the tip (Tigger's was due to her having survived being hit by a car when she was a kitten). Though Truman never could get her to play with him on his own terms -- not even when he dropped a toy or a bone in front of her face and waited with ears-up, tail-wagging expectation -- Tigger did secretly enjoy playing her own special games, the most popular being "I will cross the room and go out of my way to walk three inches in front of your face as I know you are under 'down-stay' orders, ha HA."

Tigger is survived by her humans in Arizona and California, her dog, and anyone else she may have considered staff at one time or another.

No doubt she is now making her first deposit at the Big Litter Box in the Sky. Or, more likely, just *outside* the Big Litter Box, on God's freshly steam-cleaned living room carpet.

We'll miss you, Tig.

Here Comes the Dog

I'll post more soon, but for now, a teaser:

The Roo is Two!

My tiny Truman is two today! Seems like puppy pick-up day was just yesterday...



And now he's a full-grown grumpus and permanent member of my family. Happy Birthday, Truman! We also wish a very happy birthday to fellow forever-dog Tori, and to Tai, Tia and Thatcher -- our littermates still in formal training. We all know that January babies are the cutest. :)