At odds with the day...

DH and I keep finding odd moments in our day where the absence of Sugar is a gaping, screaming hole. When we moved in to this house last fall, I noticed the sound of paws on berber, as if they were puppy paws, and it always made me smile. It's so quiet now. DH sat finishing a spoonful of peanut butter, and had just a smidge left on the spoon. He stared at it, and knew that no dog would clean the spoon. It's so still.

She was a good girl with a big personality. I stare at the dog-nose-level smudge on the back door's window, and realize I need to clean it. It occured to me more than once last night that if anything bumps that window now, I would probably die of fright.

I think about her face during the last days, where my dog was no longer herself, where she stopped responding to pets and chatter, and I have no doubt it was the right time. I think it was pain that I saw in her face, DH thinks it was dementia, and at the end of it all, it doesn't matter.

I looked on Craigslist and at the Texas Boxer Rescue pages already. Nothing serious, just browsing. I suck at being dogless. I bought Astro when I was in the depths of despair during my divorce, and that was 20 years ago this month. It was the best money I ever spent. I've owned a dog every day since then. Suddenly, there's no dog in my house.

When DH came back from the vet's, he 'scolded' me. "No strays, no dragging home a puppy!" Which is a big freaking joke, because he brought Sug home instead of my new dishwasher 13 years ago. "Best damned dishwasher you ever had!" Yeah, yeah. So I told him "Look, either a puppy, or you need to let me plan a trip. Your choice."

I started looking at air fares last night. We haven't traveled together since our good neighbors watched the dogs, and Lady Eve's dad has been dead two years. DH fussed "I want this if we are going to go..." He was surprised that I found the vacation of his dreams and a price we can afford, if we start now. He's been tasked to calculate his days off, and to find out how many SkyMiles he has. Hopefully, this Christmas will see suitcases and passports. And we'll get a dog after that.

I've suffered a creative lull lately. Enid found this clip, and I think it presents some interesting concepts. I will probably start working upstairs more often, because I won't notice the dog is missing.

There will be no dog in my house tonight.

She'll be in the back yard, perpetually warming her belly and rolling in the grass.

I am certain that we grieve for our pets because they make us better people. They just want to be by our sides, trusting that we'll pat the space on the couch and invite them for a snuggle. There's nothing like a dog rejoicing "Oh, you came HOME!" that makes us glad of our homes. And only a dog can convince you that your latest culinary disaster is indeed edible. They don't hold grudges. They don't insult. They don't bitch....much. I have learned to read subtext from my dog, learned that happiness is 60 pounds curled in your lap, and learned that compassion is not selfish. Compassion sees pain and befuddlement, and recognizes that joints are screaming.

My dog taught me a lot. I hope I lived up to her expectations.

Little sillies

It's not that Suggy isn't spoiled.  She is.  A few weeks ago, I went to Ikea, and bought her a new pillow.  (Throw pillows at my house get tossed because they aren't fit for people after a month's worth of Suggy naps.)  And she likes her new pillow just fine.  Today, however, I heard a bunch of rustling and crackling.  Today, Miss Dog was interested in the OTHER pillow I must have left out for her.  Of course it was the ziplock bag I had my extra ball of project yarn in.  (She REALLY loves this yarn.  Remember this picture when she wadded up a full sized cape?)

As far as my project is going,  I find brioche stitch a little time consuming.  I like it, but it takes twice as many rows to make anything happen!  

I've made it to the body portion of my shrug.  Yay!!!

DogMommy

I am dog mommy to a senior dog.  A few years ago, she looked like this.  Nowadays, she looks like this.

Last week the pup next door surprised her by sneaking up on her.  Twice.  She's a little old lady, and doesn't hear well.  She's practically toothless too.  He's just curious, but she turned around to find him sniffing her butt.  She was mad as hell.  

This week, I've heard a terrible sound from her.  I dash in to check on her (reminded of Fred Sanford yelling "Elizabeth, I'ma comin!" ) and find her on the couch, stirred from her sleep and giving me a "what in the hell?" look.  I calm myself, but I wonder.  Is she dreaming of tearing Charlie from limb to limb, or is it that other thing?

It terrifies me.  

Tattle tale!

A few minutes ago, DH yelled "Sug's on your knitting!"  I called back "Well, coax her off!"  He said "No, you gotta come see this."

She looks really snuggly, with good reason.  This is actually a pretty big project-at least 12 balls of yarn are already knit up.  I am nearing the end of the body...just 50 more rows, then it's on to the hem, button bands and collar.  This IS a never-ending gobstopper of a project!

Photo essay

"If I walk over here, she'll follow and get me a snack!"

"Are you coming? Quit screwin' with the camera!"

"I want one of those, Mom."

A little worried about the little old lady....

The little old lady has to go to the vet's tomorrow. She's had a lump at her Achilles tendon for years, and it's suddenly gotten larger. They also found a booby lump, so they are going to do a lot of snipping while she's knocked out. I've spent a lot of time with her lately, and just from watching her, I think she won't be with us for too much longer.

TV night!!!!

Wednesday night is TV night! Oh wait, let me revise that...most nights are TV night. Wednesday is "my show." I adore Project Runway. I think it's because I've had so many clothing failures, both knitting and sewing, that I empathize. I sewed my first failure when I was 12. I sewed a sleeve in upside down, and to this day, I remember the fabric, the design, the "Oh, no!" when I realized what I had done. My mom helped me rip it out. I've done many EXCELLENT sweaters for my DH, who swears I have a 6'5", 250lb boyfriend hidden that I knit for, because the fit is way off. Project Runway is a reality show I can sink my teeth into.

I got really excited, and thanked my husband profusely for not pitching a fit. He graciously flipped the remote to Bravo, and served as my show's Howard Cosell. He rolled his eyes, was wildy creeped out by Tim Gunn, hated Heidi's voice, and thought Peanut shouldn't be allowed to breed. And it got better. I had to fill him in on who is what....and he proclaimed it the stupidest show ever.

He snorted that I was not even watching! HA! I had a lap full of knitting and a dog that wanted my attention. I started on the Feather and Fan Comfort shawl in the merino and mohair blend I "fixed" a few weeks back. (I have a giftee in mind.) Good thing it's an easy pattern, because I had to watch the show, knit, and pet this-

D is for

D is for Done. I planned to lay my Red Scarf project out in a D shape, take a photo, and use it as illuminated script. Miss Sugar heard me in the kitchen and trotted out to help me-just in case I needed any help lifting heavy Milk Bones. She gently reminded me that D is for Dog.

My scarf is made from two balls of Cervina Softer, a 50/50 mohair & acrylic mix, in K2 P2 rib that I struggled with. It's about six feet long and six inches wide, unblocked.

Miss Sugar is a 10 year old boxer who likes to be told how pretty she is.