Happy Halloween!

Remember that big snow we had?

It's mostly gone

and Halloween Day was a GREAT day!

Shirt sleeve weather

out on the deck.

(See the reflection in the window?
Blue skies and no snow on the hogback hill.)

I lounged in my preppy suit.

wondering what it'd be like to have a date for a Halloween party

Fergi (a LADYbug for the day) stayed inside

and laughed at that idea.

She gloated that Butchy had invited her

(well, she did admit he invited us)

to join him with Snickers

and some other friends for the evening.

But she started worrying about how she looked

and kept asking if her costume was flattering

or if the wings made her look like a flighty red and black gnat.

We finally had a heart to heart talk outside

and

I suggested she try to lighten up and stop worrying

(Big little brothers are good for these kind of talks.)

She confided that she had another specific concern

She told me it was a little embarrassing.

And sort of hard to talk about

Even with me.

(Now I was getting a little worried

and apparently

I got "a little wrinkle going in the middle of my forehead"

(as per my pals Scruffy and Stan)

But Fergi finally spit it out and admitted

Her LADYbug dress didn't have a hole

where she could pee or poo

if she drank or ate too much at Butchy's house.

And she couldn't get it off by herself.

And she felt too shy to ask for help.

She almost decided to not go.

And she looked at Moma hoping for an answer or suggestion.

In the meantime

(HAHAHA Fergi!)

The beautiful Lacie

(she does NOT have a big butt)

kindly agreed to be my Halloween date

costumed as high school sweethearts.

Awwww.

Me?

Really?

No kidding?

My Halloween just got even better.

In the meantime

inside

Moma had made pumpkin treats for some of our doggie friends

And as it got dark

I took my place at the front door.

Waiting.

(Was I supposed to go get Lacie?

Or was she coming here?

I forgot to ask.)

Anyhow.

I was the official greeter

and decided whether or not the trick-or-treaters should get

one treat or a whole handful

(I was typically generous

Because I got lots of pats and squeals

from goblins and ghosts

and

candy corns and witches)

THEN

My bestest neighbor  Nessie came to the door

(She's the six month old Scottie that lives next door.)

She picked out a cookie

And her moma helped her nibble on it

What she really wanted to do

was lick off the icing.

Uh oh!

Gotta stop writing.

The doorbell just rang!

Is it Lacie?

Butchy in his plane?

More trick or treaters?

Gotta run!

Happy Halloween!!

Everyone!

Snow Day! Snow Play!

Today was the BEST day of my life

but then

all days are the best day of my life

ever since I got my family.

But today was SPECIAL.

For me

For lots of reasons.

I got to sleep late this morning

cuddled with Jake in my Girl's arms.

Know why?

Because today was a SNOW DAY!

NO SCHOOL!

It snowed a LOT last night

and it's s'posed to keep snowing till Thursday night.

And you know what else?

I LOVE SNOW!!!

Jake's not crazy about it.

But I LOVE IT!!!

Today's snow was really really deep.

Jake is no dummy.
He liked to aim straight for the edges.

He wasn't all that crazy about it.
But he's a good sport
and at least stayed outside with me.

But I wanted more!

So I got on my cell right away and called Asta and Lacie and Agatha.

I invited them to come play with me.

or

As Our Girl would say

To Hang Out.

In my mind

It would be all play!

And they did it!

They all came to Colorado.

I'd been so looking forward to the day that they would do that!

Sadly

in their rush to get here

They forgot to bring winter coats.

But they still joined us in the snow.

Asta arrived first.

(I think Lacie was delayed trying to get her pink tutu off.)

She wondered why I was standing under a big branch covered in snow.
Why?
Because it's FUN!

It made me soooo happy to be in the snow with my sissie and my friends.

Jake and I forged a path to make it easier to move.

And we girls romped and hopped through the snow.

I took them down to see the pond

and the ducks and the muskrat that were swimming around.

We had to pause every once in a while to catch our breath

Our legs were getting REALLY heavy.

No wonder.

Look.

We turned into four-legged snowballs.

When we went inside

We all took hot showers to quickly melt those heavy clunkers.

Meanwhile
Lacie was in the kitchen
stirring up some smoothies.

I asked her to make them hot toddies of some sort
and showed her the cabinet where some of the bottles she might use
were shelved.

We had some serious warming up to do.
And it was great to do so with friends
by the fire.

(We all fell asleep and didn't get any pictures.)

We've probably got almost two feet of snow by Wednesday night.

And more is on its way.

A record breaking storm for Colorado's October history.

They're saying we could get another foot by Thursday night!

Woo hoo!

Anyone is welcome to come play!
This snow will stay on the ground for a few days.

Bring warm clothes!

And lots of energy.

It'll be fun!

Memories of Kizzy

I have slipped into our TwoSpecialWires' blog.

With their permission, of course.

This is Moma.

(By the way ...  the spelling came from our Girl

when she was much younger.

And it has stuck.

It is how she dictated it to the woman

who personalized an ornament for us

when we traveled to Disney World in Orlando

almost ten years ago.)

I love this blog.

I love blogging.

I'm so glad our dogs are in a position to make their voices heard.

It is wonderful to hear the voices of dogs

(and cats, and all sorts of other four legged creatures)

from all over the world

and to watch and experience our own dogs' voices evolve

as they develop as individuals

and as members of our family.

That goes for the wheelies and wheeless ones, too.

For they also have a voice.

Anything that has a history as long as these fellas do

have a rich story to tell

if we just allow ourselves to listen

carefully

and without judgement or preconception.

Anyhow.

I didn't mean for this to become a discourse on blogging.

What I meant was to introduce a topic

that the live wires don't have enough personal experience to present

themselves.

Jake received a comment on his last blogpost

from his cat buddy Bruce.

Bruce said, regarding Jake's gentleness and lack of live-prey hunting instinct,

"You make me happy too Jake! I love your sweet, soft disposition.

That means you probably like cats too!

Your pal,

Bruce:)"

That comment got me to thinking about our two current wires

and the two that preceded them.

All four have been rather gentle wire fox terriers.

And Kizzy, my first wire, loved her cat brother Murphy.

Memories came flooding back.

And I retrieved and reread the five pages of notes

that I wrote immediately after Kiz's death.
Eighteen years ago.

And afterwards, I felt a strong desire to share her history.

To memorialize it within Jake and Fergi's blog.

They're fine with that.

I know they are.

They know that it was because of Kiz (and Molly after her)

that they are here today.

Kizzy was born on November 7, 1978.

She died a natural death on November 4, 1991.

Three days later

Our Girl was born.

I'm convinced that somehow Kizzy's spirit

is wrapped up in our Girl's soul.

There are so many things that I will always remember about my first wire.

How, as a puppy, she loved to carry her pressies around

in her mouth

for hours.

Then finally she would open them.


How she loved her backyard

and would poke her nose through a small hole in the fence
to catch a whiff of what was on the other side.

How she loved to eat raspberries straight from the bush.

And how she'd carry a toy outside every night before she went to bed.


How she loved her Gramma and Grampa.
And how they loved her.

(There's just something special about grandparents.)

How Kizzy loved to swim in the lake

and ride in the boat

(She had acquired glaucoma in one eye

hence the goggles.

We think she may have gotten it

from attacking water coming out of a hose nozzle.
Please be careful.)


And how she loved to put her head
in the fish bucket
when we'd go our fishing and put our catch in it
while still on the water.


Generally

she loved water.

She liked to lick the bathtub dry
and was known to jump in on more than one occasion.


She loved to make a mess in her water bowl
and had so much fun doing it.
She'd fill her toys up with water
and walk around the house
squirting the water out as she slowly moved

from room to room.


Kizzy always slept with her head on the pillow
and liked to be covered up in the winter.
She was a late sleeper.
(All my wires have been late sleepers.)
And she liked to eat bagels and cream cheese in bed.
I always saved her the last bite.


She almost begged for her daily medicine
(for seizures and glaucoma)
and she loved pancakes
and learned to love carrots.


She would always wait and watch for me

when I went out for a run
peeking through the opening in the sheers
in the front window.

When Kizzy got older
and slower
I decided she might enjoy another animal in the house.
And I got a kitten.
Murphy.
A Himalayan cat.


And they became best friends.
Sometimes eating from the same bowl.

And often sharing a comfy chair.

Murphy would lie in waiting
to pounce on Kizzy
to promote some rough and tumble play.


Kizzy would grab Murph by the belly
as he flopped out on his back
like a rag doll
and Kizzy would drag him along the hardwood floors
like a fluffy dust mop.


They love to play.
They loved each other.

And when Kizzy died

Murphy grieved.

Horribly.

He would go out in the backyard
(through the dog door, which he had never shown an interest in before)
looking for her
then coming in the house and crying and howling
sitting on the same couch and looking out the same window
as Kizzy had done.


Over and over again.


For weeks.


He even stopped using his litter box
and, instead, went outside to potty and poo
in the exact same area that Kizzy had used.


The incredible bond between cat and dog was undebatable.

As was the grief with the loss.


(Not yet ready to get another dog
I sadly gave Murphy to some friends
who had an elderly Golden Retriever.
The feedback was that those two formed a similar bond
that seemingly nursed the golden to improved health
and several more years of life.)


There were many many more notes that I just read through.
I am forever grateful that I took the time
to write everything that I could possibly think of
as a journal of my life with and memories of Kiz.


I encourage everyone to do that.


Eighteen years later
I treasure every word and every memory.


Like I said.
I love our little dogs blog.

It makes me laugh.
It makes me think.
It makes me imagine.

It allows creativity.
It exposes emotions.


And it both provokes memories
and memorializes them.

We have so much to be thankful for
in our lives with our four-legged family members.

And it is so very special

to be able to share that with doggies and kitties and other furries

and their people

all around the world.

We all have a common bond.

The love we have among living creatures.


Now.
It's time for an afternoon walk.
And TwoSpecialWires have built-in clocks.


I'll give the blog back to them.


With Love

Progress Report (or Final Examination)

Well.

Jake here.

To report on my current status regarding

Discovering The Hunter Instinct.

You be the judge.

Multiple opportunities have presented themselves recently.

Unashamedly, I'll tell you about all of them.

One.

You know I have lots of chances to observe wildlife

from our deck.

I love to watch.

And I silently do so.

Peering between the rails.

I could stand out there for hours.

Just watching.

Recently

(since the first snow)

a bushy tailed squirrel has decided that our deck is a perfect spot

(so I'm told)

for burying nuts

and seeking seed.

This fella seems to have taken up daily residence

Fully well knowing I know he's there.

And not really worrying about that at all.

Why should he?

What do I do?

Every day.

I quietly watch.

It's really quite relaxing.

Enjoying the wildlife out the window.

And very comfortable.

With a soft leather sofa for resting my heavy and weary head.

(It's hard work watching squirrels, you know.)

The door to the deck is almost always open.

I could go right outside and join that bushy tailed rodent.

But why should I?

Life is good.

Right from this vantage.

Besides.

There is a second option.

Recently during one of my turns on the computer

I found a video of Squirrel Action.

(Thanks Mango)

Now that got my attention.

And I got a bit more animated.

(Not a lot, but I did watch that movie a few times in a row.)

Finally some real action started happening.

Another squirrely-type found his way on the deck out the window.

This one called for an immediate response.

No head resting and quiet observation for this fella.

No.

This one demanded an up-close examination.

And lots more action.

Then

This squirrely made his way into the house.

Which called for an immediate, swift and exacting pursuit.

So.

You decide for yourselves.

Is the instinct there?

Am I a hunter?

My people've come to the conclusion

that I'm a sweet softy, at heart.

Those live creatures (except for the birds in the bushes)

are all my potential friends.

I like 'em all.

I love for them to come around.

It really doesn't strike me

that I should bark, chase or hunt them.

Unless they squeak or crackle

feel soft and fuzzy in my mouth

and live in my toy basket

hide in all corners of the house

or sleep in my bed.

So.

Maybe this really isn't a Progress Report.

After all.

Maybe it's the Final Examination.

And maybe since the course "Discovering Hunter Instincts"

didn't specify exactly what the intended prey was

I passed with flying colors.

That makes me happy.

New Wheels

Winston here.
AKA  FosterBoy or Wheeless Wheelie or W²
(I prefer Winston, thank you.)

I'm settling in nicely.
My arrival has promoted a resurgence of proper British customs within this home.
And everyone is enjoying that.
It is delightful.
I must say.
(More on all of that in a future writing.)

But now, I'd like to share
The concern and sensitivity my new family has had
regarding my paws
(which are rough and sore in this dry climate)
and my (undetermined and hence unknown) loss of proper wheels.

There had been some discussion about trying to provide me
with a set of vintage push-along wheels
similar to my original set.

But, alas, they seem to no where be found.
At least on this side of the pee.

But one day my family returned home
after a second-hand shopping trip
(a regular occurrence - it seems there can never be enough wool in this house)
Full of enthusiasm and excitement.

After a few measurements
(I never expected a tape measure to be applied to my self
outside of a proper gentlemen's fitting room)
We left together for some destination unbeknownst to me.

As it was rather cold - the first snowfall having arrived -
I was warmly bundled and wrapped.
And held carefully in the front seat of the car.
(Odd that there was no steering wheel on this side.)

It was cozy and we all enjoyed the ride.

There.

And back.

Once we had returned home

I learned the reason for the trip.

My people had found me some new wheels.

Which proved to be a curiosity to both Jake and Fergi

They fit me well.
Not exactly like what I had once called my own.

Instead a bit of a modern innovation

With some degree of sophistication

and

most importantly

unadulterated function.

the Big Blue Wagon.

So

When the next snow fell

I could be outside and enjoy it.

Warm and dry.

With mobility.

On smooth clear surfaces.

And while wheels are generally not allowed on countertops

or other sorts of furniture

Exceptions are sometimes made.

They do occasionally give me a bit of additional height

to enjoy my world

with my people and my live wires.

The message I received?

I am loved.

And I'm respected.

And we all continue to enjoy one another.