Book Review: Katie Up and Down the Hall

Because of an unpleasant experience with a large, overly playful dog in my early years, I developed a hesitant response to dog ownership. Then, to further it along, we adopted a rambunctious goldendoodle named Harley (never grew to like his name, yet never changed it). Harley was so beyond my ability to train and discipline (not unlike some children I know - wink). But, I must say, having had our shichon Toby for almost 3 years now, I can fully understand how a dog can burrow in and capture your heart.

Katie Up and Down the Hall tells the story of Glenn Plaskin's experience with his cocker spaniel. Living alone, he relished the thought of a dog's companionship. He never expected the way his little puppy would widen his world. A chance encounter with a dog-loving couple, Arthur and Pearl, down the hall leads to a happy second home for Katie. She wanders back and forth between the two apartments. Pearl and Arthur fall in love with Katie and Glenn appreciates their gracious dog-sitting offer. Drawn into the apartment by Katie, Glenn begins to look upon this elderly couple as a surrogate set of grandparents. Not long after, John and his toddler Ryan move into an apartment on the hall, and the circle widens. Through it all, the love of a dog cements these individuals together. They endure illness, career shifts, depression, death, and a tragic terrorist attack.

Plaskin's writing is effortless and captivating. I forgot there was an author because I was so absorbed in the story (those are always the best audio experiences because my treadmill miles fly by). What a beloved dog! What a gift of friendship she opened for them! Almost made me want to live in an apartment, so my cute Toby could cement a family of friends for me. It was intriguing to hear an insider's look at the 9/11 aftermath. I don't know why, but I never thought about the upheaval it must have caused for nearby residents. Dog-lovers will love this delightful tale of canine companionship and connection. But my words won't persuade you nearly as much as this seductive trailer for the book:

Don't Let the Turkeys and Rodents Get You Down!

We seem to be attracting pets we didn't invite. Exhibit One:

This turkey has turned up and hangs around the house waiting, no stalking, until John puts down his morning bird seed. He is becoming a nuisance. He wanders into the garage and sits as if he owns the place. What's more, he leaves presents behind - sheesh!

He loves to display his plumage, but he can't disguise it - he's a TURKEY!

Exhibit Two:

Went to sit on the porch furniture while waiting for the dog, our true pet, to do his business. Instead, came upon this dreadful sight:

As if staring down at that wriggling, dying baby mouse wasn't enough, we found a nest of abandoned baby mice in the couch cushions:

Nothing pleasant about this!

Actually, it's not those turkeys and rodents that are getting me down - I have other turkeys giving me grief these days, and other rats in the woodwork. Chin up! I will survive the unwelcome fixtures of the turkeys and rodents in my life.

Christmas Greetings for 2019!

When you have bigs, Christmas morning is laid back. Daylight comes and they're still sleeping.

I couldn't bring myself to write an annual Christmas letter this year. Instead, I simply sent out a small photo of our dog, Toby (captured so well by a photographer at J.C. Penney who claimed it was her first pet photo shoot ever):

I probably wouldn't have even bothered, except that I wanted to remind the few I send and receive cards from, of our address change (no, we didn't move; the city extended the street name down to our country road, requiring the pointless hassle of an address change). The futility of the gesture is monumental. We received 16 Christmas cards this year - a third from extended family. Tempted to feel aphilophrenia (see my Word Catcher review), but will optimistically attribute it to the fact that the Christmas card is going the way of the dodo bird! At least I know I'm not alone in this sadness. A friend posted her card dilemma on Facebook (she sends far more than I do and this year her card was going to cost $3.84 each to send, so she sent it disassembled with the challenge to assemble it - ha!) - she tries to fill one door with cards from family and friends, but this year resorted to adding a Santa decoration to take up space due to the scarcity of cards:

Here are our recent photos of Trevor (freshman) and Sean (7th grade):

The only news I would have added to a Christmas letter (had I sent one) would be that our oldest, Bryce, received his next job assignment and is thrilled to be moving to Houston, Texas (where his girlfriend already lives and works for Exxon). We are grateful for his presence here for Christmas, but will grieve the loss of more frequent visits. Here is a summer shot of Bryce and Elizabeth from their travels together in Europe:

May you and yours enjoy a blessed Christmas and new year!

Another Boy in the Family

For years, and I mean YEARS, my youngest has been begging for another dog. When he was two we purchased a Goldendoodle named Harley. We didn't change the name since he'd been called that for the first 9 months of his life. His name should have been Handful, because he was that. We had hoped for a Goldendoodle ever since we saw one at my oldest son's soccer game and the owners explained that the dog didn't shed (an important factor, given my husband's allergies to pet dander). Alas, the dog did shed ... and bolt out the door and into the street the minute my young boys opened the door ... and roll in dead animals ... and climb up on the counter to eat chicken bones ... and .... Eventually, we rehomed the dog and hopefully he found an owner who knew how to deal with animals enough to meet the challenges he presented. I, having never owned a dog, was certainly unprepared to be the alpha over Harley.

Thus, the years of nagging and pleading. We argued that we needed to find a dog that fit our needs ... especially potty-trained and non-shedding. The boys argued that our expectations were too high. I have been scouring the Internet, looking for the perfect fit for our family. I finally found a Hoobly ad for some adorable Shichons (second generation Shih-tzu/Bichon Frise mix). Sean was immediately drawn to the photos of the dogs. He begged and begged. We discussed and discussed. I emailed the breeders to ask if any were still available ... there were three out of six left. We went around and around about it and I eventually had to write back to say that my husband wanted to hold out for a dog that was already potty-trained. The breeder wrote back. He wished us luck and pointed out that often getting a dog who is already house-broken, but not very old means the owners are rehoming the dog for some reason they might not be expressing (perhaps the case with Harley). After thinking about his words and more discussion, we decided that we would at least see the dogs.

We came ... we saw ... we fell in love ... we bought. He's like a little fluff-ball. Here is my happy boy with his long-awaited dog:

The boys immediately agreed on a name ... Toby. We are, indeed, struggling with the housetraining (mostly our fault, because we fail to see the signs he gives prior to his accidents ... we'll get the hang of it and hopefully, he'll get the hang of only relieving himself outdoors). Although he didn't meet all the requirements, he is actually feeling like a perfect fit. He is very calm and quiet. In many ways, he is a good dog. And he certainly couldn't be more adorable ... could he?

Book Review: Naptime with Theo & Beau

Although this is billed as a pre-reader children's book, the photography in it is so stunning, even adults will ooh and aah over it. Author, Jessica Shyba, began taking photos of her young son and their puppy and posting them to her popular blog, Momma's Gone City. The photos quickly went viral and soon she had quite a large following of people eagerly awaiting another photo of Theo and Beau asleep together. The story is simple and the photos are, as The Daily Mail bills them, "unbearably adorable." For any parent with dog-lovers in the home, this is a must-read/must-view book. Warning: it will melt your heart.

Book Review: Rain Reign

The cover enticed me to pick up this book. Isn't it great? I love the rich blues, the rain, and the shadowy figures of the girl and dog. The title was perplexing and the author is identified as a "Newbery Honor Author" (author of the Babysitters Club series, although I've never read any of those). I'm glad all these aspects of the cover sucked me in because it was a delightful book.

Rose Howard is an obsessive fifth grade girl (she has Asperger's Syndrome). She is obsessed with homonyms, prime numbers, and following the rules. Her father is doing his best to raise her on his own, but often grows weary of Rose's insistence on rule-following and homonym-identifying. To show his love for her, one night he returns home with a dog he found stranded behind a building in the rain. Rose calls him "Rain" because of how he was found and because the word has two homonyms (rein and reign).

Rain becomes Rose's beloved companion. Then, one day, a fierce storm blows into town. The creek by their house floods, leaving them stranded, and Rain disappears when Rose's dad lets her out.

Rain Reign is a heart-breaking, tender tale about a very unique girl and her love for a dog. You will come to love Rose and to feel for her in her difficulties with people and with situations that stretch her out of her comfort zone. If you enjoyed Kate DiCamillo's Because of Winn-Dixie, chances are you will equally enjoy Ann M. Martin's book, Rain Reign. If you are familiar with kids who deal with Asperger's, this is sure to strike you as spot on. It is a tale well worth absorbing.

The Blessing of Relative Calm

Tomorrow will mark two weeks of relative calm. Two weeks! I assured my husband that I would write a post called "Hallelujah Chorus" when the day finally arrived. It came and went. I think I was too suspicious that things might fall through and we'd find ourselves back at square one. Two weeks later, we are fairly certain there is no going back. We are now a pet-free home.

I have watched numerous status updates detailing the agony of losing a beloved pet. Perhaps there is something wrong with me, but I could never really call Harley Dogg a beloved pet. Frankly, he annoyed the bejeebies out of me! So, even though part of me wonders if it will seem callous to internally sing the hallelujah chorus, a bigger part of me is looking around our house and heaving a contented sigh. There are still traces of the dog's existence - the hairs appear even after I have vacuumed and dusted and swept - but their proliferation has ceased. Eventually, say six months from now, the final traces will be gone.

It is the calm that I find most comforting. When we walk in the door, immediate chaos doesn't erupt. In the morning and at night, I don't have to interrupt sleep to attend to the dog's whines for a trip outside, where he would sniff the ground and then infuriate me by heading back inside without even so much as dropping an ounce of what I thought he had to go out there for! No more poop patrol (although we may still find traces of that for a while to come). No more drags around the nearby golfing community with every passerby commiserating on my lack of control. No more trying to block out the sound of his barks on the porch while my husband ate a late dinner and I put the boys to bed. I can now leave food sitting on the counter while I walk to the next room.

I was worried that Sean would miss Harley. Every day that boy loved on that dog. I will never erase the image of Sean curled up against Harley's chest, with Sleepy Bear tucked under one arm and the other arm bent for fingers in the mouth.

It was a young girl who responded to our posters (finally tossing any desire to reclaim even a penny of the money we put out for his purchase). The first day she came she wanted the dog for her parents. We were not surprised when they declared him too big for their tastes. Then, she called again to say that a nurse who works at the hospital with her mother would like to try the dog to see if he gets along with her two other dogs (my brain can't even go there - three dogs????).

I asked Sean if he wanted to say good-bye to the dog, since the dog might not return. He said no. And he hasn't missed the dog one bit.

In fact, I think the only one who misses the dog is my husband. He remarks over and over again, "Well, at least you don't have the dog to deal with any more! Don't you miss him?" Every time, I remind him that I don't.

Of course, there is still boundless chaos here in our home. Especially this week when the boys were home for Spring Break and we were tied down because of bad colds. They argued. They fought. They tore the house apart. But, I didn't have to take them outside in the strange arctic cold (Spring Break? yeah right!). They didn't shed hair all over the laminate flooring. They didn't dig up mole hills.

As for Sean, the other morning when I was still lying in bed, he joined me there and tucked his little head right against my stomach. Moments later, Sleepy Bear was in place and the fingers went to his mouth (oy - we're going to have to battle that habit soon, but it is so sweet that I will hate to see it go). I'm perfectly happy with this arrangement. Those cuddles are mine once again!

I'll take the relative calm. In fact, I'm thanking God daily for the relative calm. May it last a good long time (Trevor's already begging for a snake - yikes).

35/36 Pets Go!

Praise God! Last night, hubby took ALL the rest of the mice back to the pet store. I think my nose thanks him most of all. One thing about mice is that they generate quite a stench. Thankfully, he had moved them down to the basement, but still ...

The boys said a brief good-bye as the mice swarmed through the box hubby had put them in:


Of course, the swarm shows up better in a brief video:



It was fortuitous for the pet store, as well, since they were down to only 5 mice. Now, if only they had been paying us for our breeding services instead of merely taking the nuisances off our hands.

Wish This Game Had Come Along Sooner

It seemed like such a good idea to get our boys a dog. Boys and dogs just seem to go together. Plus, they have been begging for a dog all their lives. It was far easier when we lived in IL, because we lived in rental properties and thus, could honestly say that it just wasn't an option. When we moved to IN, we did promise the boys a dog. After all, we'd have plenty of space for boys and dogs to roam.

When our youngest was born, life quickly became chaotic and overwhelming. I wonder why it is that the third child always throws things into such a tumult. I suppose it is because, as parents, we were outnumbered. I think my husband fully believes that it is merely OUR children who are more intense, more destructive ... well, just MORE than other children. At that point, it was clear that a dog was out of the question.

Why we didn't stick with that assessment? I don't know. We began to promise them that once the baby was out of diapers, we'd make good on our promise. If only we could turn back the hands of time. True, the dog was already potty trained and crate trained (a blessing). True, he's a beautiful dog. It is also true that I had been wanting a Goldendoodle ever since I saw a stunning specimen at one of my ES's soccer games 4 or 5 years ago. Supposedly, the poodle part of them meant that they didn't shed.

LIES! All lies! This dog sheds like crazy. If I were a more diligent housekeeper, it wouldn't be as noticeable. However, I'm not and we see lots of hairs ... on furniture, on clothing, and in clumps on the floor.

More than anything, it is the dog's need for outside time that causes us the most distress. Since we live on a country road where cars whiz by at 50 mph sometimes, at first we only let the dog out on the leash attached to a chain in the front yard. However, once snow was part of the equation, we began letting him out first thing in the morning and last thing at night without the leash. At first, he stayed nearby, but it didn't take long before he was wandering all over and not coming back when called. Once, he returned chewing some kind of dead animal - possibly a bat. Thus, we went back to requiring a leash at all times outside.

Yesterday, I attached the chain to a post on our front porch, thinking this way we wouldn't even have to go out the door to let him out. Last night, I attached him to his leash and let him head out to do his final business of the day. I quickly seized a moment to brush my teeth. When I returned, I discovered that THE DARNED DOG had dug a huge hole in the mulch (landscaping) right next to the porch. He was no doubt trying to get to a ground squirrel or something.

His snout was covered in dirt and mulch. His feet were atrocious. The front porch was speckled with the dirt he kicked up behind him. I was irritated beyond words! (It didn't help that earlier in the day, the little boys had taken apart my papasan chair and the dog had chewed the wood almost to shreds!)

And to think that a few weeks ago, I asked MS to snap a photo of me and the dog because I thought someone might answer our ad in the paper and decide they wanted to buy the dog from us. HA! Then, as the photo began to rotate on our screen saver, I realized that 1) it is an awful photo, and 2) it fully supports that theory that dogs and owners tend to look alike. Yikes! At least my eyes don't get that vacant glow!

Actually, a few weeks back, it became clear that we could have spared ourselves all of this trouble if only my two littlest boys would have discovered their latest game just a few months sooner. Lately, they have taken to pretending that two of their toy containers are pets. MS wove his rubber snake through the holes in the box and began dragging him everywhere, calling him "Boxie." YS, who has to parrot everything MS does, quickly begged me to weave a snake through a box for him.


They walk their boxes. They pretend to feed the boxes. I'm a big fan of the "Boxie" game. Boxie doesn't smell, shed hair, get dirty, eat Christmas ornaments, puke them up again, cost an arm and a leg, or require any outside duties (or PRMs!).

Here's a brief video of the boys and their carefree pets (I pray for the day when these are their only pets!). At the end, I ask them if their pets are messy and YS tries to tell me that his poops. I cut the video short, but he did explain by dumping over the box so the toys all tumbled out. Somehow, I think I could deal with that kind of poopin' all day long!

You Thought Your Kids Were Demanding?

This was another post I had intended to add prior to Christmas. Back then we were on Mama Mouse's third litter and Daughter Mouse's second litter - a combined total of 17 pinkies (although in the videos they already have their white hair). I was just flabbergasted to watch the mama mouse feeding all 17 one night. Later, I captured a second video of both mothers working together to feed the vast litters.





At the moment, we have another combined litter - this time 22 total. If hubby doesn't take Papa Mouse back to the pet store soon, we may end up with wall to wall mice in that meager aquarium.

Plus ... the dog HAS TO GO! I placed an ad in the paper today. We are praying we will find a family to love him and at least get a small portion of our expenses back. Poor Harley! I think the only one who will miss him is YS (and he's already missing Sleepy Bear, who has been lost ... inside the house somewhere ... for a record FOUR days!).

Why I'm Glad I'm Not a Mouse Mama

Yesterday, around 5 or 5:30 in the evening, our Mrs. Mouse went into labor again. It is a fascinating process watching her pull the babies out and then meticulously clean them and eat the afterbirth (this already makes me repulsed).



Then, last night, as I was trying to concentrate on writing my daily 2000 words for my novel, I was continually interrupted by the squeaks and squeals of the Mama Mouse. No she wasn't birthing any more (she had another 10 - thankfully, we had taken 5 of the previous babies back to the pet shop, to become snake food, on Saturday night). She was adamantly trying to fend off Mr. Mouse, who wouldn't let up on her and pursued her relentlessly for about an hour and a half. Methinks we will be watching this process again and again. That is, until we get rid of Mr. Mouse (my suggestion after the first brood, but I think hubby wants to let him stay until after the new year).

From Zero to a Baker's Dozen Pets in One Month

Prior to MS's birthday, at the end of September, we had no pets to speak of (long sigh, remembering how peaceful that was - ah, who am I foolin'? it wasn't even peaceful without pets). MS has been begging and begging for some pet. I thought they were going for a rabbit, but they came home with two mice. They asked for two females but received a couple. It wasn't long before the Mrs. Mouse was very plump.


Then along came these:

Now they are almost fully weaned and we are hoping to take the ten babies back to the pet store before Mrs. Mouse bursts forth with another litter (she is due any day, I'd say).



Then, of course, there's Harley. We have already been threatening to get rid of him because the two little boys tease and provoke him mercilessly. MS loves to lift Harley's front paws and make him dance. Only problem ... he thinks the dog won't mind dancing like that for minutes instead of seconds. YS drapes his entire body over the dog, whenever he finds him lying on the floor or couch. I think he believes he could ride him like a horse, if only Mom wouldn't flip out about it so much.

The boys are very much in love with this dog. Mom and Dad ... not so much.


We should have gotten a few ZhuZhu pets. It would have required less money, less work, and less patience.

Still, I can't complain about even the most minimal steps in responsibility which my boys are taking. YS loves to fill the dog's food bowl (he scoops a cup from the bag and dumps it in the food bowl - no more food in the water bowl, thank goodness). This afternoon, when I was putting YS down for a nap, MS took it upon himself to attach the dog's leash and take him out to go potty. He even wiped the dog's paws off with the towel when they came back in. ES often offers to spray the dog with a deodorizing spray and brush out his coat in the mornings.

And speaking of deodorizing ... YS decided to try my deodorant this morning. He came to me and said, "Mommy, I need to brush my teeth cuz' I ATE that stuff that goes under your arms." Yippee-skippee! Life with a two year old. I called Poison control and they said the worst that could happen is vomiting. We managed to get through it without that.

Lord, watch over the brood of 17 that are in my care. And, please, give me an extra dose of patience. Remember, Lord, I'm an OLD mommy, in my mid-forties!