Dog Park Divas: Shaved Pomeranian

One hell of a funny gal, The Queen of WTF? does this and I have to give her mad props for providing the inspiration.  She may have created a monster here! 



I made that!  Yes, yes I did.  Fun and cathartic at  the same time.  Try it!

P.S. Update! Yes, Bella is my Pomeranian. Yes, she stars here in her cartoon form. No, I did not shave her! See?

Calamity Jane And What Heaven Looks Like

When one of them touched her emaciated scarred body, she raised up her head and with great dignity tried to lick his hand. He still speaks of the light in her eyes, and how profoundly alive she seemed even though her skeletal body showed signs of horrific abuse and the painful insult of having been hit not once but twice by cars on a busy highway. The men, who knew each other from work, agreed to take her to the vet at Animal Services to be treated. And both men conspired to get her a new home. They knew their mark.


It was me. They knew that I am the biggest sucker for animals in the known world so they snapped a heartbreakingly beautiful picture of this noble Labrador Retriever/North Carolina Coon hound mix and immediately sent it to me. She had been dubbed “Lucky” by the pound since she had barely a scratch from being hit by cars, plural. She had been somebody’s dog, since she had already been spayed, and was thought to be between 3 and 6 years old. Wherever she was for those first years, she was a ghost dog now with animal bites old and new barely healing. I could count her bones. I could feel her pain. There are dog fighting rings here and I wondered about her terrible injuries. Could she have been a “bait dog” for this barbaric blood sport? I contemplated the notion that she may have run into traffic on purpose.

There was another name for her.

Calamity Jane came home to a house with two kids, two other older Labrador Retrievers and probably about six cats. She knew she was home, or maybe this was heaven, and carefully went from room to room selecting one item of clothing, preferring T-shirts, socks and underwear, from each of our dirty clothes bins and created an aromatic nest in the absolute center of the house so she could see all the comings and goings.

An acre of land, all she could eat, and unending snuggles, cuddles, ear stroking, and back “skritches “ was what she was going to get. Her ears were butter soft and warm and her fur was short, black and glossy as a seal’s. Taking a photo? Janie was right there ready to “photo bomb” it in her own special way. The postal service named her “Fangs at the Door” because she took it seriously this thing about protecting the territory from invaders. She always got the last tidbit of anything I was eating, and would delicately take it from my fingers with a soft and gentle mouth.

She was not perfect by any stretch. She liked to eat paper, chase raccoons, play the “catch me if you can” game, rush up to and slime guests, and could produce farts like a human being. Once late at night in the dark I heard such an emission and literally thought there was a flatulent intruder in the house. It was just Janie.

After full day and a hearty meal, she would sleep. Often, her legs twitched and she howled pitifully in her sleep, her dream life still captive to the nightmare life she lived before. She would settle when she heard her family’s voices saying,

“It’s ok Janie, you’re ok now. Sleep peacefully dear doggie, we’ll be here when you awake.”












(The following is a letter I sent to our neighbors to apologize for Janie’s rather assertive behavior. She could be intimidating and we got a little visit from the authorities.)

August 29, 2008


Howdy Neighbor!


My name is Calamity Jane, Janie for short, and I wanted to apologize for running willy-nilly into your yard. I have a really stupid way of playing “catch me” with my owners. I used to do it all the time but as I have gotten older, I do it less and less. They keep me on my leash in the front yard just so when I get a wild hair and bolt they can run after me and stomp it to stop me before I run too far. And sometimes I do “escape” when my owners are trying to get into the house with me after a ride in the car because I get so excited. My stupid side sometimes overrides my otherwise pretty good training. Especially when I hear your canine buddies barking in the house or when your cute kids are right there to be completely sniffed and slimed.


I can cop to being an idiot. I admit it.


I heard from my peeps that I annoyed you, probably pooped in your yard or even scared you all when I went on a tear just recently. Holy moly! So much so you felt like someone in authority should deliver the 411. I apologize and just so you know I submitted to my annual rabies shot and a thorough nail clipping as a result. Not fun but I needed and deserved it.


Just so you know, I am a rescue dog, a mix of Labrador Retriever and North Carolina Coon Hound. Most folks think I look like a Rottweiler, which can be alarming. But I don’t have that really bad stuff about me. I love my cat buddies and I regularly play with many other breeds of dog at the Barber Park Dog Park with no bad incidents.


I know, I know, I bark hard and look crazy when your dogs (Max, Topper and Diesel?) are in the yard but that is mostly because I want to play! Not happy with the fence that separates us… Maybe they can visit in my backyard sometime so we can have our own “dog park on the block.” There is fenced space to race around in plus yummy squirrel chasing galore.


Anyway, I have been feeling so bad about it that I wanted to do something to atone for my goof up, so I hope you enjoy the book (perhaps a good read for the boys out loud!), the chew bones and the sweets for the kiddies. Again, I apologize, and want you to know I will be on leash at all times in the front yard no matter what. And because my peeps are only human, if I accidentally lose my marbles, pull away and take a run, please know I would never hurt you, your kids, or your pets. Sniffing and sliming happens, and I might poop on your lawn. But no bad stuff other than that and my owners would be glad to pick up my waste if you like.


So ok. Thanks for listening. I am Calamity Jane and I endorse this message.

(And just a few more photos of sweet Jane...)

You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.       ~Robert Louis Stevenson

To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace. ~Milan Kundera
 
 
Rest in Peace darling dog.

Dam Beavers, Clogged Stream of Consciousness

It just isn't natural for some of us to concentrate for too long on any one thing. The torrents of thoughts that blaze through my attention window are not currently yielding up any one thing to deconstruct, to delve into. Something that will hold my attention. So here is an un-throttled blurt of everything for the next five minutes. No promises it’ll be anything.

Brace yourself -

Dogs really resisted being washed this morning but Janie settled down once she felt the cool water streaming down her glossy black back. She stood with dignity as I sudsed up her tail and butt but I could tell she was slightly humiliated...
docto
So glad the doc found my heart to be beating strong and well...

Glasses clinking in the kitchen, daughter talking baby talk to wet pom dog who is wheezing just to scare us into never bathing her again ...

Sip of wine, notice I am having a power surge/hot flash...hot for November day, 77 degrees but a freakishly gorgeous day...

Kids whipping the dogs into a frenzy and I am uncharacteristically calm about it...not the usual stfu...

Daughter going to park…"no boys!"

About time for meds, rigid neck shaky arm...

Tick tick tick pom nails need trimming...

The light outside is blazing through the moss making it look golden...

Stop looking at me with mind control eyes Bella...

Haven't seen the report card yet from Tori...one excuse after another...she was absent the day they came out – swine flu but it's been a few days...

Strange last night when the sleepover just imploded ...meeting Tori outside of the apt complex at 11 pm in order to follow her home on her bike was other worldly...I thought it would be booze, boys, porno on the computer behavior that would break up the sleepover...her friend's two report card F’s did it...the Mom sent Tori home after freaking her out with her yelling...

Wish this mess would jog loose something to write about...

Bella wants on lap while wet...pats and punches with her little gold-tipped paws...I relent and she's on my lap sundress making comfy hammock...

Ultrasound in the morning looking for stones or something present in my liver area...feel it but doesn't hurt - yet...

Like my fretting is going to stop it but why are all these girl children and babies being thrown to the wind? ...watching news is a bad habit that I should turn off...my heart just aches with every report...

Laughed with E (I hate myself for this) when that poor sausage maker guy ripped out all of his plumbing totally copping to maybe creating the stink in that Cleveland neighborhood...when all along it was the smell of the disposable women a serial killer stuffed into every orifice of his evil house. poor sausage guy...there was a nouveau Sweeney Todd style opportunity there of you ask me....think E may have thought me truly mad when I couldn't stop laughing at that...

Tired again, sleepy but the sheer impact of the sun streaming in won't let me sleep, feels like radiation. maybe it is....

Blogging on BlogSpot and Open Salon now...that fork in the road has perhaps stomp hobbled me...

Shaking the trees an nothing's falling out...

Can't go to church no way. Too angry. Too much potential for lightning…kids should go if they want...

Why the fuck do all these women in other countries allow their ass wipe brain impaired men to dominate and abuse them? Women literally make the human race, literally from conception to death. These men are just homicidal mutilating and heartless sperm donors...I hate those retards. Screw condoms, I say give women in these countries, and here, baseball bats and AK's to keep the monkey men away so things can get peaceful...it's our fault we don't stage a gender coup....

Think I'll start creating a contract for kids...they must flush !


Wet dog creating a really disconcerting humidity on my lap but she's happy, dreaming of sleeping while wet on my lap...

M is sick...D's cough sounds like a bull walrus...

Crew money...candy sale....debt...debt...more debt…pills….Christmas...soccer...Thanksgiving...Dad...falling down.

Tupperware.

Ding! 5 minutes. G'damn.

Kitties & Doggies & A Crazy Quilt Heart

Lately, everywhere, a boat load of attention is lavished upon cute doggies and kitties and their seemingly endless repertoire of adorable expressions, captionable poses, and anthropomorphic utterances like “Can I has a cheezburger?”   One can actually begin to see these domestic divas, these fussed-over fluff muffins wrap their bewhiskered lips around human catchphrases and that’s where the goofy insanity begins.  And the manipulative get busy. 

So few people actually read anything anymore, we who write are not too proud to trick our audiences into rediscovering the almost archaic practice. Fairly transparently pimping adorable canine companions and feline familiars by clever cyber-diarists lures potential readers in to SIT, STAY and READ. Mommy bloggers and Foodies seem to keep pace larding their letters with butt-clenchingly edible baby pictures and glistening drooling photos of standing rib roasts. But chum your writings with big-eyed sweet-breathed puppies and fuzz-bomb snuffling kittens and you have -  zip! bang! - Instant Following.

Far be it for me to judge. In fact I am jumping in.

My kids are not cute babies anymore.  Oh no.  Far from that.  And my standing rib roasts look like Civil War forts; assaulted, burnt down, and pissed on by Sherman's army.  So...

I’ve got it figured out. Everybody is a sucker for a fuzzy nugget of four-legged unconditional uncomplicated love.  They are cheap fur therapy since human beings dare to foolishly love one another.  As such, we right brain-left brain wonders of creation inevitably launch that leaky love skiff together onto a treacherous gulf of lava infested with mines and giant sentient prickly spiny sea urchins. We do it over and over, blank-eyed giggling amnesiacs, only to be atomized yet again with a loud “crump!” and a steaming sprinkle; parts of us raining down in a ever spreading radius and landing with dull thumps.



Just what circle did Dante invent for that heart-warming interlude?  Back to puppies and kittens, quick!



We could learn a lot from my dog Calamity Jane who, after working up a frantic full-speed run in pursuit of the almighty tennis ball, will lock up and execute a kind of Labrador-drift slide maneuver connecting head first into the wall.  She's done this twice. She stopped doing it because it hurt.

I am not complaining because the arc of love can be blissful. Just so burdened with overwrought transience for human beings. Luckily the sea urchin spines do a whale of a job when stitching oneself together after an episode. That is if you can run down all those parts that rained down and sufficiently complete the quilting bee that will ensue.



Kittens, puppies.



For me, it’s a crazy quilt heart.  I am happy, delirious even, just to be greeted at the door by a kinetic wiggling pointy-toothed smiley fur person who couldn’t care less if I have idiosyncrasies. Even better for gullible soft-touches like me, a HERD of fur persons of varying origins and pedigrees meeting me at the door. Six tails wagging, twenty-four paws patting me down for hidden treats, six silky foreheads to pet. To them, we taste, sound, smell and feel like god.  Bliss enough for this set of opposable thumbs.



As long as there is something to eat!