Visit from an Old Friend

Scooby's brother has come back for a visit.

He was first Scrappy, then Max, and now he has a forever home where he is called Winston, but I'm afraid he'll always be "Scrappy" to me.

I can't remember exactly when he was adopted, but I recently had a note from Ashley asking if we'd be willing to babysit for him for a weekend. His new mom was uncomfortable leaving him with a dog sitter that he didn't kow because he's still a bit skittish. She thought if someone familiar took care of him she would be much more relaxed about going away.

Of course I said yes. I love the little guy and I thought Scooby would enjoy a reunion with his brother.

We had a bit of musical dogs; Freddie went back to his own foster home and the next morning, Scrappy came back. The two puppies greeted each other like...well, like long lost brothers. The mom had been concerned that he would be intimidated by the other dogs, but the four of them were chasing each other around the house instantly.

She told me he's a very fussy eater and that she had brought (human) baby food meat. She said she often had resorted to hand-feeding him bits of chicken to make sure he ate.

She also said that he's getting better and better, but he still is very skitish when she tries to touch his hindquarters, but that he was more comfortable having her touch the front part of his body.

She left contact information (personal and vet) and said she would pick him up on Monday morning.

It was really fun watching the puppies play again.

They chased each other -- and Lizzie -- through the house and into the yard and back again until they finally collapsed.

When I sat down in the recliner, Scrappy leaped up in my lap and started licking me and rolling over on his back, and finally settling himself on the arm of the chair, with me scratching his hindquarters. I had never noticed any reluctance to be touched there before, or now.

At mealtime, I took out the food that his mom had bought and I fixed up a special bowl for him, with the special puppy kibble she bought and the baby beef and for the other dogs, their usual Costco brand canned food mixed with some kibble.

Then I put the bowls down where they always were when Scrappy lived here--Scooby's bowl by the dishwasher, Lizzie's by the water bottle, Sheila's by the back door, and Scrappy's in the dog cage, where he always felt more protected.

Then the "musical food bowl" game that goes on around here every mealtime started.

Ultimately, Scooby ate Scrappy's special food, Scrappy ate Lizzie's, Lizzie ate Scooby's and Sheila ate her own and waited around for leftovers from the others. There was no problem with getting Scrappy to eat regular dog food.

But I'm not going to tell Scrappy's mom that. It's nice to think that he has somebody who loves him so much that she will hand feed him chicken just to make sure that he eats.

Scrappy will go back home on Monday morning and then later in the week Freddie will be back again as well.

It's musical dog season!

Mr. S Graciously Declines Your Invitation

It's Saturday and that always means a trip to Petco for whichever dogs do not belong to us.

The morning went quietly. Freddie, who, I discovered yesterday, seems to have a fascination for his reflection in the water bowl (see video of the day) seems not to care at all, if the shiny metal bowl is replaced with a plastic one, so I may not have to wade through muck every day after all.

I worked on my review for On the Razzle, which we saw last night. This is the third time I've seen the Tom Stoppard comedy. The first time Paul had the small role of the "randy coachman," a guy who is so sex-obsessed that all he wanted to do was check out women's breasts ("are they round like apples, or pointy like pears?") The object of the coachman's affections is the French Maid, Lisette who was played, in that production, by Marta. They were supposed to engage in a passionate kiss, which was very awkward for both of them, since Marta and Ned were dating at the time. But they both did a fantastic job and that small role still stands out for many people as one of Paul's best, even though he was only on stage for a very brief period of time.

Sadly, the coachman last night didn't have the same sparkle which is a bit awkward, since he's the son of someone I know. He was OK, but not nearly lecherous enough.

But I struggled with how to handle the review, as the puppies slept on my feet.

At about 5 minutes to noon I realized it was time to take the dogs up to Petco and I made a fatal mistake. Freddie was following me, I called him, he came over, I took his collar and I attached a leash.

BUT, Scooby was watching the whole thing, realized that a leash was in his future and he would not come near me for love, money or the treats he loves so much. We tried everything. Walt tried keeping the other dogs away while I tried to lure Scooby with a treat, but the other dogs saw I had a treat in my hand and wouldn't come to Walt, even though he had treats in his hand too. I had three dogs trying to get the treat out of my hand and one dog who was keeping a safe distance.

I lured Scooby to the chair by holding out the treat. I put it just out of reach of his nose and hoped he'd climb up onto my chair, but he was having none of that. He was definitely smarter than I was in this instance! He went outside and found a very old, very stale dog biscuit, carried it inside, turned his back on me and started chewing it. I hate it when dogs are sarcastic.

I tried going into the bathroom, with the idea that I would trap him in there since he usually follows me there, but once he saw the door, he ran the other way. Everywhere I went, he escaped me.

I finally decided I wouldn't try clipping the leash to his collar, I'd just loop it over his head, but he apparently read my mind and after I'd made that decision, he wouldn't come within arm's reach of me (I must perfect my lassoing technique!)

Finally I decided that I would just let him stay home and take Freddie to Petco without him. There is never any interest in Scooby anyway, and it wouldn't kill him to miss a week.

When all the dogs realized I was Going Outside, there was this mash-up at the front door, as everyone wanted to get out. Sheila is generally good about not going outside unless I give her permission, but that doesn't mean she isn't interested, and she's so big that she blocks everyone. Scooby was in the group and Walt was able to grab him and put a leash on him, but when I opened the door, Lizzie, who is NOT good about staying inside, ran out.

Now Lizzie will come whenever I call her, unless she's free outside. But I'm on to her. Instead of calling her to come to me, I call her to get into the car. She will gladly get into the car, and so she did. Hopped right in the car. I usually then grab her in the car and take her into the house, but I decided the heck with it, and let her ride with us to Petco. The last sight I had, as we drove off, was Sheila in the window wondering what happened and why she was all alone.

We couldn't leave Lizzie in the car because it was too hot, and I had no leash because they were all inside, so Walt just pulled up in front of Petco, held Lizzie by her collar and I took the other two out to the pens.

At 3, there was a call from Ashley to come and pick them up. Not surprisingly, neither had been adopted (tho who wouldn't want such cute puppies, I don't know). Scooby hasn't come near me since we came home. He doesn't want to risk my grabbing him again.

And Freddie is back again for another day or two. Given this sexually precocious 4 month old's favorite activity and the amount of excrement he has deposited on the floor, I'm thinking I should have changed his name to Humpy Dumpy.

Close, but No Cigars

We said our goodbyes to Gizmo today before taking the two puppies up to Petco. Ashley said she had a "very good" application for Giz, in a home with two other dogs and she thought it would work out well.

At 3:30, we went back to Petco to pick up Scooby (I was not optimistic about his finding a home today) and discovered that Gizmo had not, in fact, been adopted. The family fell in love with some other puppy and so instead of coming home with only one dog, we brought them both back home again.

Gizmo is ripe for finding a home. Her fur has grown out finally and she's become a real cutie. She loves everybody, is a great cuddler.

We're going to need someone a bit more patient for Scooby, who is still skittish, and slow to warm up. He's OK of you let him come to you, but if you try to approach him, he runs away. He will finally let Walt pet him, if he's in my lap, but if Walt tries to force friendship, he ducks and runs. Heck, even I don't try to lean down and pet him. He's just too scared for that.

So it's one more week without homes for my babies. Maybe we'll have better luck this coming week. In the meantime, the little four-footed family seems happy to be back together again.

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Doing this 65x365 project has memories swirling around in my mind like never before. I decided when I started it that I was NOT going to include people who appear in this journal regularly. So you won't see the Cousins day folk, or Char, or Peggy, or Steve or my family...at least not now. I'm up to posting day #22 (which is definitely an interesting entry!), but I've actually written over 60 entries, just waiting to be posted.

Some people doing this project have grouped their entries into grammar school friends, high school friends, work friends, etc., or other arbitrary group labels. I'm trying to do exactly the opposite. I am trying to mix it up a lot so that you may find someone I knew in grammar school sandwiched in between someone I know today and someone I never really knew, but encountered.

The one thing that surprised me is how many well known people I've met in my life. It's really kind of humbling, in fact. This list isn't just of people I know well (I certainly hope not when I added #22!), but of people I have encountered in one way or another, whether intimately or casually, or just barely. The criterion I set was that it had to be someone with whom I had at least a face-to-face encounter and who left an impression on me. I think you'll see that #22 definitely fits that description.

But when you start mentally checking off people who know and other people you know because of those people, it takes your mind in strange directions and can have surprisingly pleasant results.

I had added a performer I met once to the list and then started thinking about performers in whose presence I have been. That led me back to a taping of The Don Sherwood television show back in the 1950s, sometime (but I never officially "met" Sherwood, so he doesn't go on the list).

That led to checking to see if there was anything on the internet about Don Sherwood and that led to this treasure trove. Those of you who did not live in San Francisco missed out on a lot. Don Sherwood billed himself as "the world's greatest disc jockey." He would not only become the biggest radio star in the San Francisco Bay Area for many years, but would also be the highest paid radio personality in America. His popularity was so great (he had a 25 percent share in his time slot--one in four people were tuned to Sherwood!) that when he left the station, they paid him NOT to work for any other radio station.

But as with most creative geniuses, he had his share of problems, in spades. He was a heavy drinker and he died too early of lung cancer, hooked up to an oxygen tank, and still chain smoking.

I was a young impressionable grammar school kid when I first became a fan of Don Sherwood and I attended Catholic School, so I was really into the power of prayer and offering things up for the betterment of the world.

My mother and I attended the aforementioned taping of the short-lived television show that Sherwood did and he was obviously drunk. And getting drunker as the show progressed. He had a bottle hidden under his desk.

I decided I was going to "save Don Sherwood."

I went away to Lake Tahoe for a couple of weeks with a couple for whom I did babysitting. The thing I longed for each day was the arrival of the mail, but when the mail came, no matter how much I was longing to read the letter(s), I put off reading them until night and offered up my pain and suffering of having to wait a few hours to read my mail in honor of Sherwood quitting drinking. Instead of reading the mail, I would pray for Sherwood.

Amazingly, within a couple of weeks after I returned from Tahoe, Sherwood decided to stop drinking. I don't know how I knew that. I don't know if he mentioned it on his show, or if he went into rehab or what, but all I know is that I was convinced my prayers had "saved" him.

(Of course it didn't last and he was drinking again very soon...but it would be nice to think that all of my sacrifice amounted to something after all!)

Gimme Some 'Poop Freeze,' Please

Because I know you all want to be up to date on the latest in high tech stuff for your pet, I share with you this web site, which offers everything from "poop freeze," a substance which will turn those loose stools solid for easy pick up, to a bird diaper to save your furniture when your feathered friend decides to fly about the house, to a bubble machine which sends out chicken-scented bubbles for your pooch to chase. Sixteen expensive products in all.

People do go crazy over stuff for their pets. Makes me feel better for adding canned food to their kibble because I think it will taste better.

But "poop freeze" doesn't sound like such a bad product either, at the moment.

Since we are committed to replacing the living room carpet with Pergo this year (we missed my target "spring" date and are now aiming for "fall" -- any time after the hot weather finally leaves and before Christmas), I have been less than diligent in keeping the puppies from peeing and/or pooping in the living room and...well...let's just say we aren't entertaining anybody until the new floor is in!

Gizmo has been here just about two months now. Scrappy and Scooby came here just about three months ago, and have come and gone, but at least one has been here since that time. I'm reaching the point of hoping that someone soon will fall in love with them and that they will find their forever homes.

It's not that I don't like them. I love the little guys. But I find that with all of these long-term placements, there comes a day when I start wondering if anybody has made any request about them. Especially when I'm picking poop out of the living room carpet or spraying urine cover-up formula into the shag.

I could keep them out of the living room entirely, but Sheila and Lizzie like attacking anybody who walks by from the living room window and I actually enjoy watching the nightly top speed races from the living room to the back fence of the yard and back again. They do play well together, and with Lizzie. Tug of war is a popular game, but I haven't been able to get a picture of Lizzie and Scooby playing tug of war with Gizmo as the thing they are tugging.

Scooby is the sweetest little dog, but it's going to take someone very patient to bond with him. For as long as he's been here, he still won't let me pet him on my own terms. He sleeps in my lap, he jumps up on me when I'm working at my desk or sitting at the kitchen table, but to lean down and pet him...that's a Scooby no-no. He is still very wary about taking a treat from my hand. And today I washed my hair and had my head wrapped with a towel and he stood there barking and barking at me.

Neither he nor his brother like men. All has been very calm around here because Walt has spent so much time in Santa Barbara over the past three months, but now that he's home again, we're back with the barking whenever he appears (Scrappy was more diligent about it than Scooby is, thank goodness). When we got home this evening, Scooby ran outside and just barely poked his head through the door and wouldn't come in until Walt had gone upstairs.

They always have to be in body contact with me, Scooby in particular. He will stretch his body out in all directions to make sure that wherever my feet are, he is touching them. Not bad in cool weather, but when it's pushing triple digits...!

As I said, I do love these little guys, but it's getting to be time for them to find their forever homes. In the meantime, I may stock up on Poop Freeze, just in case!

Family Reunion

Look who has returned.

This is Scooby-Doo, Scrappy's brother. Apparently his placement didn't work out and he's back again.

Scrappy has had a difficult time here, because he seems to really be afraid of Walt. He's fine when Walt is gone, but when Walt comes home, he gets all weird again. He's gotten better, but whenever he sees Walt he barks and barks and barks. Apparently something happened to these two guys at the hand of a bearded man with glases because Scooby's (failed) new home had a man with a beard who wore glasses and Scooby couldn't warm up to him either (though Scooby seems OK with Walt, now that he is settling in here again).

In any event, he was returned and Scrappy seems very happy to see him. Interestingly, when the two of them were here, Scooby was the leader and Scrappy was the timid one. I notice that their roles, at least this first day, seem to be reversed. Scrappy is much more at home here and Scooby is sometimes slinking around, trying to get his bearings. He does, however, seem happy to be back with his brother again.

But Gizmo is the prize winner. With that high-pitched, sharp bark, she is definitely the most annoying, not matter how cute she is.

(I don't think Sheila is speaking to me!)

Ashley asked if Scooby could stay here "for a day and then we'll re-assess. Well, heck...we're going to be gone most of next week and Ashley is going to be living here, so the work of having an extra dog will be her problem, not mine!

Today was "beauty shop" day for the puppies. Before I took Gizmo and Scrappy up to Petco, I gave them both baths (see video). Gizmo gets baths fairly regularly because of her skin condition, but I had been reluctant to give one to Scrappy, since I didn't want to freak him out, but he actually handled it quite well.

Then, when we picked them up at 4 p.m., Ashley asked me about bringing Scooby home with us. I feel like I'm walking through a herd of sheep whenever I walk across the room. But they are all really sweet and I love having them here. Temporarily.

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Tomorrow's entry will be late because we're having our second Pinata Women sleepover. It will be sad to have it without Michele, but we're determined to stay in closer contact with each other, perhaps because of Michele. But anyway, I won't be posting until Monday afternoon.

Faw Down, Go Boom

My mother tells me that whenever I fell down as a little kid I would say that "I faw down, go boom." I did it big time yesterday.

You know how when you have a bad fall, everything seems to go into slow motion? I remember climbing up on the sink one time to fix the curtain at the top of our window. My foot slipped and I fell to the kitchen floor floor, but I remember as I was falling, assessing how my body was positioned, if I was likely to hit the kitchen counter, and what would happen if I hit the floor wrong. All in a matter of a split second.

That was kind of how it was yesterday. I had taken Munchkin out to the back yard to play with the other puppies (because he generally won't leave my side) and I sat down at the table on the concrete patio to read the paper.

I got up from the table and everything went wrong. Sometimes when I turn wrong my bad knee sends shooting pains and kind of gives out a little. When that happens. I automatically shift the weight to the other leg, but somehow that leg was tangled up in the leg of the chair and I started falling, in slow motion, wondering what would happen when I cracked my head on the concrete.

Walt, bless him, was there and caught my head before it bonked the concrete, but my body hit so hard that I peed all over the patio.

(Why do they tell you to wear clean underwear when you go out. If you get into an accident, your bladder releases whatever is in it. If you die, both your bladder and bowels give up their contents, so nobody knows if you had clean underwear when you left the house or not!)

I was immediately surrounded by five very worried dogs, which was lovely, but just what I didn't need as I tried to drag my pain-wracked body to an upright position. It was instantly apparent that I had wrenched something in my side. From just below my breasts to just below the waist, the muscles sent excruciating pain shoothing everywhere along my left side.

I hobbled into the house and changed my clothes (not easy when you are in pain!) and proceeded to figure out what I could do and couldn't do in my new pain-wracked state. I discovered I couldn't bend over to pick up anything. I was fixing chicken for dinner and had to wait until Walt came downstairs to get the bag of frozen chicken breasts out of the freezer for me. I could also put the pan into the oven, but it was much more comfortable to have him take them out for me.

I could pick Munchkin up, since he always raises up on his hind legs and paws at my leg, but I couldn't put him down unless I found a pile of pillows and then dropped him from a foot above the pile.

I sat in the recliner for awhile with ice on the affected area, but it was frustrating that after going through all the gyrations to get into a reasonably comfortable position, I would have to get right up again to get something I forgot or something else.

It was a no-computer night because I couldn't sit comfortably to type, so I sat and watched Idol and Dancing with the Stars and The Daily Show and finally decided it was time for sleep. But where?

The night before, in a desperate attempt for a good night's sleep, I took ALL the dogs up to the guest bedroom to sleep. Despite the stabbing pains that I get when I try to sleep in a bed, I thought maybe having room for everyone would make it worthwhile. It actually worked because I had all the puppies on one side of me, and the big dogs curled up along my backside, like the back of a couch. I considered doing that again, but I wasn't sure I could walk upstairs.

I tried the couch in the living room, but it was instantly clear that there was no way I could get to a reclining position, so I went back to the family room again and settled in on the recliner under puppies. I did wake up around 2 and had about an hour and a half awake, but eventually fell back asleep again.

Things were ever so slightly better in the morning. But the most difficult part was trying to deal with the puppies. It's hard to get comfortable with your lap being used as a playing field. I can't get food out of the dog food bin but I can lift the container and put it on the kitchen counter and get it that way.

I finally decided that I just wanted to reduce the number of pain-producing things in the house, so sadly wrote to Ashley and asked if she could find new homes for the puppies. Someone came to pick up the older puppies and it did not go well. They were both spooked and Scrappy bit one of the women trying to catch him. He also left poop all over the family room...literally scared the shit out of him. I finally called him to jump into my lap in the recliner, which he did, shrinking away from the people trying to catch him. I felt awful when I put a leash on him and helped drag him into the carrying crate. I do not feel good about sending them away, but when I tried to clean up those poop piles, I knew I had made the right decision.

There is still no new home for Munchkin and we'll see if I'm better enough tomorrow to keep him, but at the moment Ashley is still on the hunt for a new foster home for him.

DOOs and DONTs

Meet the "Doo" family. That's Scooby Doo on the left and Scrappy Doo on the right (No, I didn't name them!) They are 4+ month old Jack Russell terriers whose foster family is going out of town for a few days, so they moved here. They are, if possible, more skittish than Russell.

They dropped the puppies off in a huge carry crate (which they are peeking out of) and the melee was on. The other three dogs barked and barked and the new guys cowered. I didn't open the cage door until they'd been here for a little bit. When the dogs started calming down, I opened the door and let Scooby and Scrappy decide when to come out.

They pretty much spent the evening cowering whenever either Walt or I came near them, but they did eventually start playing with the other dogs. Russell was in 7th heaven, having someone that was about his age and size to roll around with. Everywhere there was a ball of puppies whirling around in a circle, a blur of brown and white.

They were clearly interested in human beings, but it was a real approach-avoidance situation. Walt tried picking up Russell (who, with the arrival of the new puppies, was much more open to being picked up by Walt, after all this time) and the puppies were very interested in Russell, but absolutely did not want to be touched by either Walt or me.

While Walt called to them and tried to let them know he really was a good guy, I decided to just leave them alone. I sat in the middle of the room watching them, but not trying to touch them, not calling to them, waiting for them to decide on their own that I wasn't the big bad wolf.

They were definitely intrigued. They would stand on the blue recliner and half cross the table between the two chairs, they would sniff my hand, if I put it on the table (without looking at them), but they were just too scared to actually get closer to me.

Walt finally went upstairs, Russell settled into my lap and "The Doos" curled up on the blue recliner.

When it came time to go to sleep, Russell and I left the puppies on the chair, hoping they would sleep all night, and we went into the living room. We had all settled down in our little "pack" -- Me on the couch with Russell on top of me, Shelia lying on the floor next to me, and Lizzie on the chair next to the couch.

Suddenly I thought I heard a sound from the family room. Then I heard something fall. I decided to ignore it. Pretty soon, I saw the two puppies creep very cautiously into the living room. Nobody moved. They tentatively began sniffing everywhere. I hoped they would climb into the recliner in the living room and go back to sleep, but they didn't. Soon they were starting to feel more comfortable so they started picking up things, which made noise, and Russell started barking.

This wasn't going to work. I got up and, followed by all the rest of my pack, went into the family room Scooby and Scrappy were so scared they ran into their cage, which was perfect. I locked them in and they were quiet the rest of the night.

In the morning, we all went outside. They were SOOOOOO happy to be outside and kept running over to jump up on me and then run away before I could touch them (which I wasn't really trying to do).

Breakfast was a real challenge (it is with three, with five, two of whom are afraid of their shadows, it was significantly more challenging!)

Slowly, over the morning, they got braver about me.

In the afternoon, they slept on my feet while I worked on the computer.

They still aren't real sure about coming up to me, but whenever I get into my recliner, sooner or later, someone will join Russell in my lap. They let me pet them. They will take treats out of my hand (sometimes).

I don't expect to work miracles before we leave for Los Angeles on Friday, but Ashley will be here while we're gone and she's the expert in winning doggie trust, so I'm sure they will do just fine until their "real" foster family comes home.

They sure are cute!