Lauren

Today is my wife, Lauren’s birthday. On this, her special day, I am at a client’s site in North Carolina while she stays home. She was home alone for most of the day until the kids got home from school. She tells me that she did have lunch with her friend Sandra, so at least she had some fun.

Due to a perfect storm of events, I was unable to buy her a special gift for her birthday. Yes – I suck. Since I’m not there, I can’t even take her out to dinner.  I decided to do something a little different for my lovely wife’s birthday. I decided to write this for the world to see.

My wife spends the majority of her time caring for our two daughters. She gave up a succesful career to take care of them full time, a sacrifice they are not likely to understand for many years to come. My children are both wonderful people, a fact that has a lot to do with Lauren being there for them every day.

In addition to our two girls, we also have two drooling furry beasts living in the house, neither of which I would like to add, is me.

Beast number one, Annie, was retreived from Ohio by Lauren almost a year ago. Lauren drove the 10+ hours each way to give this special girl a home. Annie has changed our lives for the better, though you’d never get me to admit it in person. Annie is pure love in a black and white fur coat, and she has infected us all with her joyful, naughty ways. Annie has even made me a better writer. I didn’t want another dog. I wasn’t ready. Lauren knew that I was, so she brought Annie into our home. She was right.

Guinness – beast number two – is the great protector. Lauren found him through a local rescue organization. He needed saving, and Lauren saved him, simple as that. Guinness is now learning his way around a house with children that he can play with. He’s learning to enjoy having his belly scritched, and he’s learning that the woods outside the fence are rife with zombies. At least we think they’re zombies. These zombies are rightfully scared away by his thunderous – and frequent – barking, so we haven’t ever seen them. They must be there though. What else could it be?

Lauren makes every day better for everyone around her. She has made my entire life better. If not for Lauren I’d probably still be living in a crummy little apartment eating Dominoes pizza every night… and morning.

If not for Lauren, Annie and Guinness would be living very different lives. I’m pretty sure they like their lives. Lauren gives them tasty marrow bones almost every night. What could be better than that?

If not for Lauren, my kids wouldn’t be who they are, and my kids are wonderful, funny, smart, beautiful and witty – just like their Mommy.

The purpose of this entry is simply to let the world know that I love my wife. She should know that our kids love her too. The dogs adore her – and not just because she feeds them. Cozy even said it herself once.

The problem is that I can’t be home to hug and kiss my wife on her birthday. I bet though, if after reading this you went and hugged and kissed someone special to you, the collective energy of all that luvin’ would somehow make its way to Lauren. Doesn’t matter if it’s a person, a stuffed animal or a furry beast of your own. If she smiles reading this, then I will have helped make her birthday a better day. She deserves so much more, but today, words are all I have to give.

I love you Lauren.

GAD

Annie in the Mud

After reading so many glowing reviews of the Gentle Leader, we bought one and took Annie out in the yard to give it a try. More accurately, Lauren took Annie while I took the camera. Somehow I knew this would be an event worth recording.

The Gentle Leader is much like a halter for a horse in that it wraps around the dog’s snout and head. Though some people mistake it for a muzzle because of the way it looks, the dog’s mouth is free to open with a Gentle Leader. The leader works because the leash is attached under the dogs nose. Where the nose goes, so goes the dog. At least that’s how it works on paper.

As with most things involving Annie, this was not to go as planned. Lauren got the Gentle Leader on her, and Annie promptly set to scraping it off with her paw. We figured it was too tight, so we re-read the instructions while Annie furiously pawed at her face in a vain attempt to remove the foul restraint. Though we felt that it was properly applied, we loosened the harness a bit just in case. She still didn’t like it, but at least she stopped pawing.

Lauren clipped the leash on and started to walk. Walking with Annie was not a pleasant experience – hence our experiment with the Gentle Leader. Annie’s lack of manners was our fault of course. We had not yet spent enough time with her, so she hadn’t learned the rules. Lauren had walked with her every day, but Lauren isn’t quite as strict as me. That’s not to say that she didn’t do well, but rather that Annie didn’t yet respect her as the one true alpha female.

As Lauren and Annie started to walk, the excitement began. Annie took a couple of steps, then jumped into the air spiraling like a dolphin at Sea World. When she landed she shook her head trying get the infernal straps off of her head. She reared up on her hind legs, bucking like a stallion.

“I don’t think she likes it”, I said, chuckling.

“Ya’ think?” was Lauren’s only reply.

The Gentle Leader is marketed as the five minute attitude adjuster. After five minutes Lauren got her to stop bucking and writhing, but I wasn’t entirely convinced of Annie’s newfound manners. We decided to give her a break and took the harness off. Annie’s plan had come to fruition. Sensing the long awaited freedom from her binds, Annie erupted into a full-blown heebie-jeebie running fit. Apparently she wasn’t tired after all.

She ran in the yard, bounced off of the fence and the trees, then headed straight for the mud. We had been having a drainage problem on one side of the yard, so we had worked with Annie on the dry side to avoid it. The muddy section was only about 10 feet by four feet, and was in the rarely used corner of the yard behind the patio. Our fenced yard was almost an acre in size, so the muddy area wasn’t even visible from where we had been working. Annie knew well where it was though.

“Annie No!” I yelled. She could not have cared less. She ran to the mud, then stood there as her feet slowly sank in. I imagine that she enjoyed the way the cool mud squished between her toes. She just stood there and stared at me. She knew she was being bad – she just didn’t care. After soaking for a few seconds, she started to pull her feet out of the mud one by one and then put them down. A rude slurping sound accompanied each foot and she lifted it out. I think she liked that too. Slurp… Squish….

“Annie! Get out of the mud!” Slurp… My commands fell on uncaring ears. As if knowing what I was thinking, she slowly – deliberately – laid herself down in the mud. All the while she stared at me with obvious defiance. Squish…

“Annie! No!” Still she stared. She knew I wouldn’t come into the mud to get her. Her belly now in the wet sloppy mud, she went for the checkered flag and put her head down with a final defiant squish.

One word echoed in my head. It started as a whisper, but had steadily increased in intensity. It wasn’t a nice word when misused, but it applied, and its double meaning appealed to my literary sensibilities. My eyes narrowed as Annie watched. Her head slid forward as she anticipated my next word. Overcome with frustration and resolved to let her know it, I let loose the word. In a low voice that only Annie could hear I growled, “Bitch!”

That’s what Annie had wanted all along. She had succesfully pushed by buttons and she knew it. Once the line had been crossed, she got up from the mud with a slurp, then ran at me at flank speed. Anger turned to fear as I considered the possibility of 100 pounds of muddy Landseer Newfoundland taking me down. On the video that I was shooting, there was a noticeable lack of my previous resolve as I exclaimed “Oh crap!”

She veered off at the last second and ran to the opposite end of the yard. Lauren, her part in the training debacle since complete, stood on the deck and laughed.

The score as it now stands is Annie: 1, Gentle Leader: 0. A rematch has not yet been scheduled.

Tasty Butter

Annie likes butter. No that’s not accurate; Annie loves butter. We’re not sure why. All we know is that she once she had a taste of it she’s done everything in her power to get more.

We have had whole sticks of butter disappear from the kitchen counter while Lauren prepared dinner. It doesn’t matter where on the counter the butter was placed. She can get it from the farthest reaches of any flat surface.

We have had entire sticks of butter deftly snatched from the refrigerator door while someone was busy reaching for something else. I would usually enter the scene with the kids chasing Annie while she trotted around the house with her tail in the air and a stick of butter hanging from her mouth. As I’d watch in the typical bewilderment of a confused father, snippets of the song Yakety Sax would echo in my head.

Annie will often sit next to someone at the dinner table, leaning against them while begging for affection. Being a clever girl, she picks the person who’s either near the butter, or who is eating something with butter on it. She will often sit next to one of the kids while they enjoy their summer corn on the cob. They’ll give her some pets, eat some corn, then when they’re not looking, Annie will lean in, reach out with her long tongue and take a leasurly lick of the salty melted stuff.

Annie, being part ferret, can lean her head over backwards and to the side to get the precious butter. She will sit next to someone who is not eating a buttered treat, then contort herself over to the person next to them when no one is looking. It’s like having a black and white octopus at the dinner table. Those of you with resident octopuses will know what I mean.

Sometimes our Annie has no patience for subterfuge. On these days she will use the shock of a frontal attack to her advantage. Lauren will be sitting opposite me at the end of the table. The butter will be near the edge, being the last item to be placed since it’s (barely) safer on the counter. After we all sit down and start eating, Annie will just walk up and lick the butter right there in front of God and everyone. Since we’re usually waiting for some sort of sly maneuver, she sometimes gets a couple of licks in before Lauren yells “Hey!” and snatches the butter away. Annie then slinks off to plan her next move while the rest of us laugh.

Part of the problem is that while the person who’s butter gets licked is usually quite offended, the rest of us laugh like idiots. I guess we’re all just enablers in this house. I find it interesting that these shenanigans rarely happen on my side of the table though. Annie knows who the Alpha is in this house – at least when I’m looking. Of course we’re all eating freshly licked sticks of butter so I guess the joke is on me.

GAD