Dear...

Dear,

Spring,
Where are you? Why have you forsaken us?

Breaking Bad,
I miss you. You were my best friend for a while and I will fondly remember our time spent together.

Hillary,
You can't please some of the people all of the time and I respect the fact that you are trying. Making  history isn't easy. The question remains; is it enough?

Food,
Our love/hate continues. Will I ever have the advantage here? I doubt it but recently I have learned a thing or two so look out.

Business,
Why are you so fickle? I guess that's why I am addicted to your ebbs and flows. I'd like a clearer picture on the future. Could you throw me a bone here?

Blogger,
I have been neglecting you a bit. Someday's life gets in the way so it's not always what we agreed to. I will try to be better about us.

Boston,
I am proud of you. You did real good yesterday. Even in the cold, raw and unrelenting rain. You persevered and showed your mental strength. We truly are Boston Strong.

Key West,
You are so beautiful. Thanks for last week.

Buddy,
I love everything about you. You are the world's best dog. Your loyalty, love and presence are some of the most precious things about home. Thanks for being at my feet every day (even when you don't want to) I'm sure you can sense that sometimes I need it more than you do.


With Much Love,

Candy
xoxo

Can't Keep A Good Man Down

Ever since my beloved Amos went to heaven last November, I have noticed a change in Buddy. I expected him to be affected, but the diffence in Buddy was one that I had not anticipated. I worried that Buddy would be depressed like he had when his beloved sister Jingles died. I worried that he would be lonely being the only dog in the household and even entertained bringing a puppy into the family. Interestingly enough, none of those worries were even close to what has happened with Buddy. 

Buddy's life was one of a pack. He spent his early days with his sister Jingle then two years later, Amos, aka. Boss Man was added to the pack. Their days comprised of loving each other and bonding, but It was clear early on that Amos was the Captian and that he ran a tight ship. Buddy had Jingles, who he loved her like a sister, and it was almost as if the two of them aligned to commiserate about Boss Man and his regime. Then Jingles was called to heaven way too early and Buddy was devastated. He layed around lethargicly and uncharacteristicly left food in his supper dish. Boss Man showed no evidence of emotion but stayed close to Buddy, and then there were 2...

It was life as usual for the boys and they had what seemed like a happy existence. There was definitely  a balance between them. When the altercations became physical, which they did occasionally, Buddy was always the victor due to his obvious size advantage. Still Boss Man never let him forget he was boss. There were rare occasions that they slept in the same doggie bed, which almost always prompted a photo to document as proof. They loved each other, it was obvious, just in their own way. Amos was advanced in age-we never knew exactly because My Guy rescued him-we estimated his age to be around 17 years old. We knew his day would eventually come. Come it did, and we worried how Buddy would react. 

The first few days without Amos, he seemed fine, still we waited. Nothing. There was no evidence of depression and dare I say it, Buddy had a new bounce in his step! Yes, Buddy is now The Man and he is loving it! Evidenced during treat giving, Buddy no longer has to quickly scarf it down so that Amos won't come over, snap, growl and confiscate it for his own. Nights are easier because Buddy can now sit on the end of the sofa comfortably without vicious growling and sharp teeth showing. Meal time has now become a joy without the threat of violence. Buddy has come into his own and now that the kids are gone, the empty nest is all about him and he is loving it. 

They say souls come into our world for a reason, and Buddy and Amos were destined to share their lives. Now Buddy is last man standing, left to be his own man alone and seemingly happy to be doing it on his own terms. 

My Heart...

To a better place, you have gone. I tell myself quietly.

Your life was full and important to us all and you let us in and never let go.
You were saved for a reason, you just didn't know it at the time.
We didn't know it either, how you would save us too.

How the quiet times on the sofa together, side by side,were important food for both our souls. How you loved me, protected me and let me know that just being close made you happy. That being part of the family was your destiny and you cherished that.

Yes, you were the Man of the house. Loyal and most loving, my heart is broken today,but I take comfort knowing that she will be there waiting for you.
Rest easy, my love..

See Buddy

SEE BUDDY. 

BUDDY IS A GENTLE, LOVING WHITE BOXER WHO IS HAPPY AND PEACEFUL ALL OF THE TIME.

SEE AMOS.

AMOS IS BUDDY'S BROTHER AND ALPHA MALE IN THE PACK. ALTHOUGH AMOS IS ABOUT THE QUARTER OF THE SIZE OF BUDDY, HE IS MOST DEFINITELY THE BOSSY BOSS.

AND THIS BOTHERS BUDDY..LIKE A LOT. SO MUCH SO, THAT BUDDY THINKS AMOS IS A BIG, FAT, PAIN IN THE ASS. 

SEE BUDDY SLEEPING.

AT NIGHT, BUDDY WOULD DREAM OF WAYS TO GET EVEN WITH AMOS. HE SECRETLY WAS HOPING FOR ALIENS TO COME AND ABDUCT AMOS. 

SEE AMOS WAKING UP.

AMOS ISN'T EXACTLY SURE WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM LAST NIGHT, BUT HE HAD CRAZY NIGHTMARES ABOUT BEING MEAN TO BUDDY. ITS LIKE HE SUDDENLY KNOWS HE BETTER BE NICE TO BUDDY OR ELSE...LIKE SERIOUSLY.

BUDDY, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAS NO IDEA WHY AMOS IS ACTING SO SUBMISSIVE...MUST BE BUDDY'S SWEET AND CHARMING PERSONALITY. 

YES,THAT MUST BE IT!  GOOD BOY BUDDY! 

Pug Pretty

It's times like these that make me miss my baby girl Jingles: Happy Haloween Jingles.

My baby girl Frankenjingle

These are her furry counterparts:

Pugkin Latte

Wrecking Ball Pug

Chia Pug

Baked Pugtato

AstroPug

Marilyn Pugroe

Puggie The Riveter

The Little Pugmaid

Lord of the Pugs

Deep Sea Diver Pug

Puganna

Bjork Swan Dress Pug

Yoda Pug

Tin Pug

Spock Pug

Darth Pug

Case O' Pug

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mattbellassai/costumes-that-prove-pugs-always-win-at-halloween

Talking Sh*t

Editorial Discalimer

I want to begin today's blog post with the disclaimer. Today's post is literally

about fecal matter. If you are of the faint of heart please leave now and except my sincerest apologies. Please come back tomorrow when I'm talking about something frivolous like celebrities, nose jobs or boobs. Thank you.

Can we talk? Or the question is can we talk sh*t? 

I got to tell someone because I'm about to blow. I've got to confess that my dog has a shi*ty problem Or a shi*ting problem. Whatever you want to call it driving my family and I bonkers.

My dog is old. Probably about 13 to 14 years, we are not quite sure because he was a pound dog. About six months ago he started pooping on the kitchen floor, upstairs in the hallway and several other places in my house at night. We would let him out 1030 or 11 o'clock at night to make sure he was doing what he needed to do before bed. Sure enough, the next morning there was a package lovingly left somewhere in the house. It's gotten to the point that there are gates cordoning off almost all of the house that the dog is allowed to be in.

Now I know you're saying to yourself, "Haven't you taken him to the vet?" Of course we took him to the vet. We have changed his diet at least six or  seven times in the last six months, yet every night the dog manages to find his spot. The vet has diagnosed him with "hyper diarrhea". I like call it night shi*ting. You've heard of night eating? I think he has night shit*ing. For the last month he has been on probiotics and an anti-diarrheal medication. He takes half an antidiarrheal pill and a pill probiotic with his dinner.

I guess I can be frank here. Since medication, I can report that his fecal specimens have been firmer and better shaped, therefore much easier to clean the package off of the kitchen floor. Thank God for the bulk pack of Clorox antibacterial sanitary wipes at Costco. I might have a nervous breakdown without such a tool to clean up this daily occurrence. And I'm going through them about as quick as anything the dog eats and then goes through him. 

And its not getting any better. We are about to see the vet again for possibly the 5th time since this started and I'm beside myself with the prospect of getting up in the morning to face what awaits me. And here's the thing, this is not about me, it's about him and his health. The vet says his weight is fine and he does not seem to be suffering any ill effects from the chronic pooping. That is good, but WE are suffering from the amount of work and unsanitary aspect of this entire shi*ty situation.

I guess what it all comes down to is love. 

Love is a funny thing, because it makes you do things you would normally never do. Cleaning up dog poop daily is not the way I foresaw my dog living out his golden years, but if this is what I've got then this is what I've got. Like it or not, I love that dog more than I love his problem. So I trudge on, like a trooper hoarding Clorox wipes and supermarket bags to dispose of the problem and hope for the best. Tough sh*it, right?

Maybe it's psychological? But I draw the line at a doggie shrink because if this continues, I'm the only one who's going to need a shrink. 

Dog Gone Brilliant!

So I've got this new dry cleaning service that picks up the dry cleaning one day and delivers it to my door a few days later and I'm very happy with their service, so far. But that's not what this post is about. This post is about my dogs.

I leave a purple bag on a hook, filled with the dry cleaning, twice a week for pick up and lately I notice that my dogs will go berserk, barking furiously when the big purple van pulls into the driveway. The barking is not unusual. My dogs bark at everything that passes by; runners on the street, people on bikes, UPS and Fed Ex trucks, but not like they do when the purple van shows up. I can always tell when the Zoots guy is here because they go crazy; like they are up scratching and clawing at the window crazy.

Today I needed to ask my dry cleaning driver a question, so when I heard the dogs causing a rukus, I knew he had arrived. I carefully stepped outside and shut the door behind me, but it just barely drowned out the mayhem that the dogs were creating on the other side. I proceeded to talk to my pleasant driver and take care of business. When we were done, I apolgized to the driver for the dogs and I said, "I'm so sorry. I'm not quite sure what it is about you or your van, but my dogs seem to have a problem with you."

The driver smiled and said, "Oh I'm sorry. Well, would you please give the dog these?" In his hand he held two Milk Bone dog treats. " I always leave them on the front porch stoop, by the bag and I don't want to forget today." he said.

It was like a light went on in my head. I sort of chuckled and asked him to wait a second and I walked over to the door and let the clamoring, barking dogs outside. The same two dogs that were ferouciously clawing to get out  immediately turned into calm, sweet,  tails wagging dogs who went over to the driver and gave him a hearty welcome. I immediately understood. They were friends, and their Pavlovian response to the purple van was not at all what I had thought it was. My dogs wanted their twice weekly treat from their new friend the dry cleaning guy.

I was happy to know that my dogs aren't at all ferocious. In fact, it just solidified the "man's best friend" thing in my mind. Because before today I'm not sure that the driver understood that when he visited my home to pick up/dropoff , he was being anxiously awaited by his two new best friends.

A Dog's Life

So I'm back from the big city. I spent a whooping 24 hours there, but it was well worth it. While enjoying the fabulous company of my BFF, we took a leisurely stroll through her neighborhood on what was a splendidly perfect NYC summer evening. Besides all the sights to see in New York, (and believe me there are many) I was taken by how many dogs of all shapes and sizes there were around the streets.

It seemed at every turn, there was a really cute, little face, panting and prodding for my attention. And I'm a sucker for a cute face. And while I walked by the majority with a smile, I must have stopped and patted at least 5 or 6.

New York is very dog accommodating. I even saw several leashed dogs enjoying a spot at an outdoor cafe of a restaurant. No one cared. It was all quite normal, even. It would seem to me that dogs live a good life in the city. Here in the burbs, it's very rare you see a dog in a restaurant, and even then, the dog is in a bag and tucked somewhat lovingly away. But not in New York. Dogs rule the streets.

We saw this guy a few times, with two different people, which means the dog probably has his own staff. On my last trip to the city, I saw a special dog park, complete with doggie sprinklers and cork floors, all for that special little pampered New York City pooch. And if that's not enough, there are doggie day care places and doggie spa's on almost every block in New York. It's big business in a city that is small on space. Henri Bendel, the chic, extremely upscale New York department store has one of the nicest doggie boutique's I have ever seen. The fashions, the accessories, the dishes and bedding is enough to make a young child jealous and your pooch the envy of every other dog in town.

Yes, it must be a dog's life for a New York City dog. They are respected on the streets and enjoy the sites of the city. Who's to say that a dog needs lots of acres to be happy. It seemed to me that these pooches had the best of both worlds. Let's not forget Central Park, for when the country is calling.

And there's always the Hampton's....

Dogger Depression

SEE BUDDY

Remember him? This is my beloved 8 year old Boxer Buddy. And do you remember that I just lost my baby girl dog, Jingle,who was 9 years old, no more than two weeks ago? We all took it hard, as she was a member of our family and it still stings. But Buddy? He is taking it the hardest.

I think Buddy is depressed. Is that possible?

Buddy and Jingle were like peas and carrots. They grew up together and shared everything. They even slept in the same crate together every night; with the door open, so I know it was their choice.

It wasn't a romantic love they shared, it was more like a brother-sister love and Buddy has been lost without her. It's so heartbreaking to see him lay around and sort of sulk. He still has Amos, the boss, and the Alpha of the group so he's not completely alone, but I never realized how tough the loss of one of the pack was going to be on Buddy. And Jingles, his favorite one.

What do I do? Do they have doggie shrinks? Does he need doggie Prozac or anti depressants or will this ride it's course out while he adjusts?I mean, we all have to adjust. The thing that worries me is that Amos is the old dog. We aren't quite sure how old Amos is, because he was a rescue dog, but I know his age is somewhere in the teens. He's in great shape, but I'm worried that when it's Amos' time how Buddy will handle it? As it is right now, he's requiring a lot more attention and we are more than happy to give it to him.

Today I'm in no position to get another dog. I've had three dogs for close to a decade and I've loved every minute of it. Would I do it again? Hell NO. Yet, the boys seem so lonely without her.

I just want to see the little spring creep back into Buddy's step. I somehow think Jingles would have wanted it that way.

Jingle Bells

The bells may be ringing, but they don't soothe my broken heart.

My memories of you are red and raw, like my tired eyes today. I chose to let you go, but that choice cut right through me and left me broken. I know you will suffer no more, so I must take comfort in the pieces of our life.

You came to me when I needed you, wanted you and you never wavered. Always at my feet, or anywhere you could hear me, smell me; just to know I was there made you happy. It was your comfort and mine and love was our bond.

You were feisty, like me, and you took no bull from the others. You were a woman among men and you could handle yourself. I loved that about you. You licked and snorted and barked to let us know that you loved us no matter what. You protected us and today, I still feel your presence in the tears of your family. The pack mourns too.

You were here yesterday, but today you are gone and I still can't believe it. It's the strangest feeling. In a house full of people, there is an overwhelming emptiness.

My heart is broken.
Our hearts are all broken.

I hope you are at peace wherever you are and I hope you know that I loved you like my own, because you were my own. My girl. My baby girl, what will I do without you?

The bells are ringing because today you got your wings, but they don't soothe my broken heart.

Like A Thief In The Night....

I am certainly no stranger to robbery.

Just 8 months after my EX-ASS and I split up many years ago, my home was burglarized. Thieves took every bit of my jewelry and my daughter's jewelry and nothing else. It was so violating and scary, even if it was an inside job, that we were all shaken by it. But that's a blog for another day. Today I mention it because we got hit again, on Sunday night.

It was minor, and thank God for that, but violating nonetheless. Frick's car and My Guy's car, both parked in our driveway, were cleaned out. They only got about 3 bucks in quarters from My Guy, but poor Frick had her iPod Touch stolen, along with her iPod connector for her car. My Guy discovered it on Monday morning when he got into his car to got to Home Depot.

While walking to his car he happened to glance inside Frick's car, parked just beside his. He noticed that the inside of Frick's vehicle looked completely ransacked. He figured it was her looking for something in a teenage fury and had not cleaned up after. That was until he got into his car and realized the same thing had happened to his car, but to a lesser degree.

I felt so bad for Frick. I mean, she was only 10 when our house was robbed, and she was more frightened then about the violation of her security than the loss of her jewelry. This time, she was just pissed off that someone stole something of hers that she cherished. I think she was more upset about the loss of the iPod car connector than anything else, but she had a real uneasy feeling about the thought of people rummaging through her stuff in her car.

And let that be a lesson to all of us. Take nothing for granted. Frick also left the keys to the car inside it that night. The thieves could have taken her car, so it could have been much worse, but it got me to thinking. My mom (who is also one of my neighbors) was telling me that her handy man took her to the front door to show her something disturbing last week. He was working on the outside trim all week and when he went back to check his work around the door, he noticed that the freshly painted area between the door knob and the door latch had been scraped up. It definitely appeared that someone was trying to get in, then he showed her a drop of blood that was dried on the threshold of the door. Sure enough, this could be a tel tale sign of an attempted B&E.

Then last Tuesday, just as I am leaving to go to work, Buddy, my big white boxer, started barking ferociously and caught my attention. As I glanced out I saw a very tall and large man in a suit with a brief case and a woman in a long skirt approaching my door. They weren't at all afraid of ferocious Buddy, which unnerved me right away. Instinctively, I opened the door and went outside with more than an attitude and I might have even been rude.

"How can I help you?" I snapped as I went to grab my dog before he reached them and possibly hurt one of them, leaving me liable for their injuries.

"We are here to talk to you about the Lord," they pleasantly replied.

"Ya. No. My dog doesn't like solicitors and I'm not interested so please leave," I said. It gave me a freaky feeling all day. Stupid, I know, but even though they seemed harmless, the little visit left me feeling uneasy.

And now this.

Let's just hope my thief quota has been filled for good.

No Sh*t?

So I'm having a conversation yesterday with a woman about dogs. The conversation inevitably lead to dog droppings in the yard, which in my house, are lovingly referred to as "land mines". She told me about a service that will actually come to your house to pick up your dog poop.

What? Really?

I have 3 dogs and I don't know about this? A company from Quincy, MA called, DoodyCalls has been "keeping Massachusetts clean since 2003".

No sh*t.

DoodyCalls offers it's pooper scooper services to most of Massachusetts and they take pride in scooping that poop. These guys are serious. A quick check on their website assures clients that they will receive the most thorough poop removal services with a 100% Satisfaction Guarantee.

I wonder if they will they pay for my new Manolo Blahnik stilettos if I step in dog poop after they leave?

This is great, I think! DoodyCalls provides affordable services from friendly, uniformed "technician's" who drive branded DoodyCalls trucks. All scooping tools are disinfected between pooper scoopings so animal parasites and disease will not spread and DoodyCall will customize your waste removal services for weekly calls or monthly maintenance plans.

Wow, I never knew poop was big business. I think for a minute about the possibility of this for my yard and then I remember. While a "professional" pooper scooper service, for the owner of 3 dogs and a nice yard, is tempting, I already have 2 DoodyCalls technicians that live in this house. Yeah, and those technitians will be out of school sooner rather than later.

Maybe I will do some research of what the going rate is to scoop some poop and how much to pay per "land mine". Then the kitchen table negotiations can begin. This deal could provide fruitful for all parties involved. I'm beginning to like this idea more and more.

The tough part is going to be convincing them to do it. If money does not motivate them, I don't know what will.

They may think the whole idea just stinks.

Sucker For A Cute Face

This one was just too cute not to share.

Tremendous Tuesday

A guy is driving around the back woods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house.

'Talking Dog for Sale'

He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard. The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador retriever sitting there.

"You talk?" he asks.

"Yep," the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says, "So what's your story?"

The Lab looks up and says, "Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young...I wanted to help the government so I told the CIA. In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping."

"I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals."

"I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired." The guy was amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

"Ten dollars," the guy says.

"Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?

"Because he's a liar. He never did any of that shit."

See Buddy: The Treat Mafia

See Buddy.

Buddy has fallen in with the wrong crowd and now is a member of a vicious street gang called, "The Treat Mafia".

See The Boss.

The Boss, and his colleagues believe they are in the business of "Treat Management".

See The Dame.

The Dame is, by far, the most ruthless member of The Treat Mafia. Her bite is much worse than her bark if she is denied her share of a treat. And without regard for consequences.

See their hangout.

The Treat Mafia patrol their hangout without mercy. Anyone who enters, gets the squeeze for a treat, and when they want it they want it now!

Or else.

And The Dame isn't one to be denied... If you know what's good for you.

The last guy who denied them a treat was never seen or heard from again.

Message on the street was, "he was with Luca Brazi, sleeping with the fishes."

Doggie Audition

It's no secret that I love my dogs. Together they have formed a pack, the three of them (not those three above) and each one has his/her own distinct personality. They make me crazy most days, but no matter what happens, I can count on their loyalty. Life without them would be boring, for sure. I remember the day that I got my pug, Jingle. I bought her at a local Debbie's Petland. They probably got her from some horrid puppy mill, but the kids suckered me into it one afternoon, when our older pug became ill. They convinced me that he would do much better if he had a playmate, someone to keep him buzy and cuddle up with. "Another pug would give him a few more years and he'd have a playmate," they said. Call me a sucker, because the next thing I knew, we were all in the car on our way to the mall.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Once we got to the pet store/puppy mill, we scoped the cages for pugs. They had three fawn colored puppy pugs and we had been looking through the window at this tiny little boy pug. We watched him roll around and play and decided that we'd like to have him taken out to play with. We waited until it was our turn and told the clerk we wanted to see the boy pug. As he went to get the puppy, something made me say, "Wait! I want to see that one." I pointed to another pug three cages down. Don't ask me why, and the story has now become legend, but as I scanned the cages I saw this other little sad-faced pug and the words came out of my mouth before I knew they were coming.

Jingle is now Queen of the pack here, as she tolerates the boys antics regularly. A girl after my own heart, she will let them annoy her until she has had just enough, then look out! And they do. She's not the alpha, but she does not need to be if they push her buttons. And they both know it. I sometimes wonder what it was about her that made me change my mind so quickly, and made her fate change so drastically. I often think that to be a dog in a crate, waiting to be adopted must be a precarious state to be in. Wouldn't it be grand if a dog had some control over how he/she "auditions" for the role of a lifetime, family dog.


Jingle just may have telepathically sent me a message like this. You never know...

Snoop Jingle Jing

I had to call the vet yesterday about an ailment my pug Jingles has and was told the doctor would call me back. When he did call back, he kept referring to my dog with my full last name, like "This is Dr. Jones calling about Jingles Smith." He'd continue on and then throw it out there again, "Jingles Smith can be seen at our Wayland office....we can fill any prescription for Jingles Smith"

It cracked me up. I realize that they do that in order to link owner to dog, but it got me to thinking what life would be like if dogs ruled the world. Or if Jingles ruled my world.

• Food would be served all day long. Like a cruise ship, buffets of food would be strategically placed throughout the house like various decks on a ship, and the humans would be the servers. Of course.


• Dogs could defecate and relieve themselves wherever and whenever they wanted. Just not where they sleep, if they could help it, and the humans would clean it up without saying a word.





• Dogs would sit at the dinner table, AND the sofa AND the bed AND sleep under the covers...and humans could too, if they didn't get in the dogs way. Humans are great for keeping dogs warm.
  
• Dogs would be driven around until they had enough. Cars would be for a dog's "head hanging out the window" enjoyment and not much else. Also, to be driven to awesome dog parks where they could sniff every tree, bush, blade of grass and other dog's orifice to their hearts content.


• Dogs would talk and humans would not. "Shut that G*d dammed human up!
  
  
  



• Paris Hilton's face would be on a LOST poster.
  
• Cats would not exist. What a waste of life.


• Electric fences would be for the humans and dogs would have secret x-ray vision to be able to see exactly where the electric fence is. "Haahaaa, sucker! You ain't getting me again!"


• There would be no racisim. Dogs come from too many different breeds and colors for any supremacy to exist.


• Humans would have no authority. In my house they don't anyway, but in general...
  
  
  



• In the dog world there would be a caste system. Doggie Rednecks would exist. Meet doggie Daryl and his brother Daryl and his other brother Daryl.

• Pugs would rule the world.......or a galaxy far, far away. "Buddy, I am your father..."