A Special Day

Without my knowing it, my life changed dramatically 11 years ago today. I didn't know it at the time but that was the day my Ozzie was born.

June 22 was also my grandparents' wedding anniversary. (If they were alive today, they'd mark their 70th anniversary.) June 22 is also the date that Tigger appeared in the yard.

After putting our first Yorkie down, I was adamant against getting another dog. I had never had to make that kind of decision, much less be present for it, and I knew I never wanted to do it again. One way to make sure. Just don't get another dog.

But mom talked me into "looking" at puppies the week after Scruffy's death in September 1997. And that led to Ozzie. When I saw him, he was cute. When I spoke to him, he kissed my face -- and melted my heart. When I saw his birthdate, it was karmic intervention. He immediately became a member of the family.

As I type this, there's a furry little being at my hip. He's content right now, having had a little bit of a breakfast sandwich as a special treat. (He got to go on the trip to get it, and of course, the girls at Burger King fawned over him.) Later on, he'll get a super noisy vinyl toy, beat the crap out of it, and probably break the squeaker. It seems a pretty small price to pay for nearly 11 years of laughs, companionship, and a whole lot of love.

I know I can't keep him forever, but I plan to savor every minute of it that I can. Happy birthday, little guy. Thanks for everything you've given me.

And How Was Your Day?

I was rudely awakened shortly after 3 a.m. by thunder that shook the house, and subsequently, by a terrified Yorkie desperate for comforting. (Ozzie hates storms.) By the time the thunder, lightning, and pouring rain had died down and I was lulled back to sleep with a Yorkie in the crook of my arm, the alarm was going off … I made it through my morning routine, and a few other tasks since mom isn't feeling well, rather sluggishly.
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The bus was late and for a minute or two I thought perhaps with my sluggish pace I'd missed it. But there it came, finally. The Nano eased me into a catnap, and awoke just two stops ahead of mine. Once at the office, my friend KayO started me out with a laugh. Building on the six-word memoir from earlier this week, she shared this to summarize her morning: Barefoot, I stepped in cat puke. OK, my day didn't start that badly.
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We had a rare power outage at the office today. (In more than seven years, I can think of only 3-4 such events, and only one that lasted long enough to send people home.)

What was freaky was that I was in the restroom when the lights went out. I had just entered a stall and was about to "undress" when it went black. One of my young colleagues was a few stalls away. Since she was already engaged shall we say, I said I would venture out and see if I could flip the lights back on. I had assumed that the plunge into darkness was because of a faulty light switch that has been acting up in the ladies' room on our floor for a while now. I made it to the door only to find that it was NOT the switch at all. I remembered that in one of my desk drawers, I had tossed one of those tiny pressure lights that used to be on my keyring. I went and got it and returned to the restroom. Many folks were grateful for that tiny light. You really couldn't see anything otherwise!

As I a window, I can stay in my office with no problem. The phones worked, but the computers were dead. I undocked my laptop and tried to tap our wireless connection in the building and had it -- for about a second. Then it went down, too. Most people were congregating in the middle areas where some back-up lights had come on. Even so, it was still pretty dark. After about an hour, the lights came back. The computers did not. Made it very hard to get anything done. Also, made it plain just how super-dependent we are on technology. Within another hour, the computers were running once again.

The timing was good because I got a call from a colleague in New York within two minutes of the system's resurrection. I would not have been able to help her without my computer! The phone rang while I was on that call, flashing a number I didn't recognize, but an area code I did: mine.
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When I hung up with New York, I had a message. My mother called to tell me we have no phone at home. She was on the phone with our neighbor and it just went dead. (She used their phone to call me.) It does this from time to time. (The problem was supposedly resolved a year ago, after intermittent outages and in spite of the efforts of a parade of technicians in previous years.)

It may account for why she hadn't heard anything yet from either Lawrence the Handyman or Carl the HVAC guy about the running-on-borrowed-time water heater. (Someone suggested we ask our heating/cooling guy about water heaters, so that call was on mom's to-do list for today.)
I'm starting to hear the theme song from Gilligan's Island in my head about having no phones, no lights, etc. It will be interesting to see if anything else can befall us before I get home.

I'm not sure I want to find out.

T to the Power of 2

I talk a lot about Ozzie, my almost 11-year-old Yorkie. He is definitely Top Dog. In fact, he's the only dog. This D*mn House, however, is also inhabited by two other boys, both cats. The incomparable Tigger and Toby.

Tigger is the eldest. I call him the "grand old gentleman." He's been hanging around for almost 16 years. There's a tree that separates the lot we divide with the neighboring property. Tigger was the proverbial kitten stuckin the tree in June 1992.

My mom, recuperating from a car accident, kept hearing a kitten cry. I was running back and forth from a work assignment to check on her and, during one of my stops, heard the cries. I thought it was a bird at first. But, it was Tigger. Once out of the tree, he walked across the porch and through the door like he owned the place. I tried to get him a home, then tried to get a shelter group to do it. They almost succeeded. Almost. So, after an unsuccessful adoption attempt, I just took him home.

In July 2006, just a few weeks ahead of the monster storm that took most of the shingles off the roof and left us without power for a week, the cries of a kitten were heard once again. Oddly enough, they came from almost the same spot where Tigger had been found 14 years earlier. But Toby was not in the tree. He was about 10 feet from it though. I'm convinced that our lot is a staging area for stray cats.

Tigger has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen on an animal except for maybe a Siamese or a Husky. They are this unbelievable deep green. Just gorgeous.

And Toby is just "pretty." There's no other way to put it, even though he's a boy. We've always found him a little on the effeminate side which is why Mom commonly refers to him as Toby Marie. He is bunny soft and he keeps changing colors, varying between a slate gray and a light gray. His eyes, which were once a bright gold, have now changed to green.

At the moment, he appears to be all boy though, waking me with his yowling every day between 3 and 5 a.m. (He’s desperate for a girlfriend. I would gladly provide him with one – or with a trip to the vet – just to shut him up.)

Toby and Ozzie get along fairly well but Tigger hates them both. That’s why he is the Lord of the Lower Level. If he ever got within a breath of either of them, it would be a forensic file waiting to happen.

Tigger does like people, just not other animals. In fact, he likes both Lawrence the handyman and Carl the HVAC guy. These days, he spends most of his time sleeping or otherwise basking in the sun of his window perch. Occasionally though he will surprise me by attacking one of his toys and running through the basement with the vigor of a kitten.

I hope that vigor sticks around for a long time to come.

YorkieTalk Cooks

No. It's not a book on cooking dogs, cooking with dogs, or even exclusively on cooking for dogs.

The official Yorkie Talk cookbook is a compilation of more than 500 recipes for pet lovers and the pets -- primarily Yorkies -- that they love. (Hence the sub-title you see in the picture.) Inside this book, you'll find hundreds of recipes ranging from tangy appetizers to mouth-watering desserts. The books are $18+ $3 shipping and handling. All proceeds go to YorkieTalk.com. You can click here to buy one or just let me know and I'll make the arrangments for you.

There are some recipes, too, for those among us who -- either for health reasons or for fear of poisoning by substandard Chinese food products -- choose to homecook for our pets.

I discovered Yorkie Talk almost a year and a half ago when my own beloved Yorkie was seriously ill. I went looking for information -- where else? -- online. I found a minimal amount of information about the illness. But I did find a lively, fun, and mostly generous and kind group of gals -- and even a few guys -- who are in some cases even nuttier about their dogs than me! You don't even have to have a Yorkie to love this site.

The cook book was an interesting project. I helped edit recipes. I didn't contribute any. (What? The whole two or three things I can make?!) Even though I'm not a cook, there are some of these that I am just going to HAVE to try. It's a really good compilation for the experienced, novice, or relatively curious cook. It makes an excellent gift, too. And if you're looking for something different to cook for a coming summer gathering, this might be just the thing to get!

You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To

I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't have a pet. When I was a baby, there were cats and birds. I got my first dog at 7 and my own cat at 8. And since then there have been more dogs, more cats, birds, mice, even a bunny. A menagerie to say the least. So, I have a very hard time relating to people who don't like animals and/or who knock those of who are a bit on the fanatical side. Frankly, I feel sorry for them as I think they're missing out on something truly wonderful.

I understand why some people who like animals don't have animals. They don't feel they have the time or energy to take care of them. I'll admit, animals are a lot of work. I don't even have the lion's share for mine because I'm not home with them all day -- Mom is. I do my share though.

Some nights, I wish they would clean up after, feed, and otherwise care for themselves. But they also have an ROI that can't be beat. This photo is a perfect example of what I mean. It's what I often see in the door of This D*mn House when I get off the bus at night. Ozzie gets SO excited. He just hunkers down and shakes, waiting for me to reach and then open the door, before he explodes into a flurry of barking and erratic movement. He is a welcome wagon extraordinaire!

A greeting like that is the perfect kind after a tough day at the office! (Assuming, of course, you can't get Antonio Banderas with a margarita.) Ozzie's one guy in my life who will never ever care what I look like, how old I get, or how much money I don't have. Which, after picking up the car, ain't much ...