Friday, December 12, 2014

Hugo the Boss

Hugo Boss
I know I'm supposed to be writing about my little ladies.  But before there was them, there was him.  Our beloved pup, Hugo Boss the Boston Terrier.  Later in life he suffered from severe arthritis and in the end the pain was more than either of us could bear.  We said goodbye tonight, and its one of the harder days I've had.  This is what I told him…

Dear Hugo,

You were the best dog.  Period.  Thank you for sharing your too short life with us and teaching me how to love and really care for someone other than myself all those years ago.    I’m sorry for all the ways I screwed you up, I take full responsibility…but that’s what happens to the first kid.  You learn your lesson and do better.  Liesee and Poppy thank you for being my guinea pig.

On that Christmas Day when I unwrapped you and smelt your little puppy breath, I burst into tears.  To be clear, there is some debate about these waterworks. I always tell people I cried because I thought your father was going to propose (and that is true), but the whole truth is you were the most adorable, wonderful little puppy I had ever laid my eyes on.

You stole my heart within the first moment, and you stayed there and you always will. In fact, you stole the hearts of a whole group of 20 something’s that needed a dog to make their crappy apartments feel more like home.  You belonged to all of us.  You snuggled with us through heartbreak and happiness.  You were a sort of mascot and you were always our biggest fan, happy to see us and generous with your sloppy kisses.   Sorry we shuffled you around so much.  I don’t think I ever thanked you for being so adaptable. You were always good that way; quick to find the sunny spots or warm registers in each new place.

You did a lot of things that drove us nuts.  You snored louder than an obese man with sleep apnea.  But, I’ll miss that too.  It had kind of become the soundtrack of my sleep. 

Not sure what I’m going to do without your muscular little body tucked between my legs on cold winter nights.  You no doubt helped us save money on heating bills because you were our built in space heater.   You surprised quite a few dog sitters with that move too.  I always “forgot” to warn them about your tendency to really go for it.  You never discriminated, two warm legs was all you needed.

Sometimes you stepped on my face in the middle of the night, and this made me mad.  Sorry I got upset; I realize you were just trying to get comfortable.  I’m sure it was hard to share a bed with two humans.

You had a weird thing about doorbells.  I’m hoping Heaven is doorbell free, and you won’t have to worry about that anymore. 

You also had powerful pee. Remember that one time you peed on our air conditioning unit and we had to get a whole new one?  Well, I just wanted to tell you its ok.  We forgave you and actually used it as a selling point when we sold our house. ”Brand New AC Unit!”  But, seriously thanks for not ever doing that again.

You had your flaws but, man you were great at a lot of things.  You were the best snuggler.  And, you always knew when we needed you.  I wouldn’t have gotten through my pregnancies and miscarriage without your warm little body snuggled up to my side; your warmth always easing my pain. 

I don’t know that you actually understood us, but you had a way of listening where you tilted your head just so; that was pretty neat.  When we needed to see our best selves we just looked through your eyes. You were fearless, and tough, and had a bigger heart than a dog ten times your size. Your warm deep eyes saw and knew the best and worst of us…thank you for loving us anyway.

Your greatest roll was also probably your biggest demotion; top dog to big brother. Thanks for not running away when we brought Annaliese home from the hospital.  I know that was a big change, and you did way better than we expected.  As she turned from baby to toddler you were a good sport.  Thanks for letting her dress you up like a girl, poke your eyes and treat you like her baby doll.  When Poppy was born, you handled being humbled a second time with the same level of grace.  You were the best big brother, and the girls would like to personally thank you for helping them eat their peas. 

I hope you know that you are so very loved and so very very missed.  When you get to Heaven I hope you run wild and free.  No pain, no anxiety, just rivers of dog biscuits and mountains of warm fleece blankets.

Hugo Boss, I have no more words, just love.   Sleep well my dear friend, until we meet again.

Thankfully Yours.
Kate

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

My Tiny Ferret: Gatherer of Stuff*

I'm not sure why Tiny acts like a ferret and squirrels away all sorts of trinkets and trash, but its giving me heart palpitations.  I'm starting to worry she may have inherited her fathers need to save things "just in case."  He still talks about the coffee mugs I donated to charity two years ago.  I am a pitch-er, and live in a house of savers.  Clutter makes my skin crawl and so I get rid of things.

I've been caught multiple times by Tiny.  "Mommy!!  Why is my beautiful coloring page in the recycle bin?!"  She can't expect me to save every single piece of "art" she brings home from school, can she?  We hang the seasonal ones on the kitchen doors rotating as new projects come in, and the really sentimental ones I may hang onto a bit longer, but to her they are ALL special.  Everytime she catches me I pretend they accidentally fell in the bin, or when I'm really desperate I throw hubs under the bus.  (Note to self…start using the big recycle bin in the garage.)  Now before you judge, I'm not a total monster...I take pictures of the really cute ones thinking someday I'll Pinterest what to do with them.  Even I can't seem to part with anything made with a hand or footprint….I just can't bring myself to pitch baby toes…yet.

But its not just the art turned trash…she wants to save ACTUAL trash too.  Two nights ago as I was kissing Tiny goodnight I felt something in her little hand scratch my neck.  Upon further inspection she was carefully cuddling a tiny plastic hang tag that had been ripped from our latest Target couture.
Me: Uh, why are you holding that piece of garbage?
Tiny: It's not garbage mommmmy!!  It's special.
Me: Well, whatever it is, you can't sleep with it.  Can mommy have it so I can put it on your bookshelf?
Tiny:  No.
Me: Please.
Tiny: No.  I need to sleep with it.
Me: uhhhhhh…ok but just don't stick it in your mouth.  You could choke on that thing…and if you choke on that thing in the middle of the night I will be so mad at you.
Tiny: Ok, I won't. I'm just going to snuggle with it.

An hour later, I hear whimpering coming from her room…oh god is she choking?!?  I scale the stairs two by two prepared to do the heimlich.  But she's not choking, she's upset because she "lost" her little piece of plastic garbage.  Queue those crazy eyes again…this is weird, right?!?  I want to scream, but instead calmly vow to find it in the morning.  I did just that as I was making her bed, while Tiny was at school…and promptly threw it in the trash.  Later, "Mommy did you find my plastic?"  "No, honey it must have magically disappeared."  (Here's where you can nominate me for mom of the year.)

She also has a knack for gathering a collection of things. Maybe she's preparing for the future behemoth handbag she'll lug around someday full of everything from spare clothes to wipes to naked barbies (and yes that is the current contents of my purse), but tiny loves to put teeny tiny bits of stuff into any little container she can find.  There are tiny purses and gift bags and knick knack boxes all over my house that have been stuffed to the gils with little dolls, legos, crayons, puzzle pieces, wait! is that my diamond ring?, hair bows, scrabble tiles, cheerios and coins….and, it makes me feel crazy.

I'm not very type A but when it comes to toy organization I am a little kookoo.  I can't stand to have toys all mixed together, and right now Tiny's favorite game is toy soup.  Worst of all she "gifts" me these little treasure boxes of crap and I feign total joy. I know I'm supposed to be in the moment and I am, I really am, but I don't like toy soup.  I don't want my "food" to touch.

So what's a clutter-phob to do?  I'll tell you what…nothing.  I just bury my feelings under piles of baby-toe artwork and take it.  Someday she'll have something a whole lot worse in her bed and the contents of her purse will be as mysterious to me as a toddler's need to squirrel.   Instead, I'll politely say thank you for the box of treasures and kiss tiny pieces of plastic good night.

*if you haven't seen Ferrets: The Pursuit of Excellence this title is in reference to, stop everything you are doing and watch it now.

How long do you save this piece of fine art?

Tiny's latest snuggle buddy.



Exhibit A: Toy Soup

Exhibit B: Tiny's Special Suitcase

"Are these for my boobies?" - Tiny in reference to the coconuts.

The Ferret

Ferret in Training