alarms, dogs, kids, plus your typical panic
I can’t…what…why…what’s that noise? It’s…so…so early.
[claw my way close enough to consciousness to hear 1, 2, 3, 4 by The White Stripes]
omg, it’s the alarm. Why why why why why…do I have time for a shower before camp drop off? Maybe a quick one. I’ll just hop in real…
[screams from kitchen]
What’s that? [check bedroom, no Gracie] Okay, then, gotta be the dog. Intervene? Leave the kids to handle it?
Intervene, it is. [scurry out of the room]
“What happened? What happened? You’ve got to stop screaming.”
[first child gasping with fury while second child presses Gracie to the floor]
She ate my breakfast!
“Well, that would make me mad, too. Let’s just put her outside and start again, shall we?” [drag dog to back door and throw her outside]
Okay then. Everyone in one piece? Phoebe still hiding under the table? Breathing again?
Do I have still have time for a quick shower?
I can admit it – I’m ridiculous when it comes to these dogs. I mean, Gracie eats anything that’s not nailed down and Phoebe can be as jealous as a toddler. In the end, though, it doesn’t matter what havoc these guys wreck. I’m like a cult member who’s drunk the Kool Aid. Dogs Rule.
And yet, when I look around this house and see the damage they’ve done…well, there are days it’s a miracle I haven’t thrown them out the front door and said good riddance.
Some moments are etched indelibly on my memory. The day I looked at BrightSide and knew, way down in my bones, that I loved him. The morning I fell into T-man’s liquid brown eyes and discovered an entirely different kind of love. The evening I held Bear for the first time and realized I was equal parts enthralled and terrified by this tiny being.
And then there are times when your dog leaps out the car window like superman.
You're like a little wild thing
that was never sent to school.
Sit, I say, and you jump up.
Come, I say, and you go galloping down the sand
to the nearest dead fish
with which you perfume your sweet neck.
It is summer.
How many summers does a little dog have?
Run, run, Percy.
This is our school.
Dog Songs by Mary Oliver, ©2013
Oh, Gracie…our sweet, adorable, scampish, bullheaded, never-met-a-thing-she-didn’t-want-to-eat Gracie.
If you’re a long time reader, you know what’s coming. If you’re new to RFTM, welcome aboard the Gracie crazy train. We keep a running tally of her dietary hijinks around here. No embellishment necessary.
Our pretty, peculiar, puzzling, and perpetually attention seeking Phoebe…
If ever there were an example of a dog who doesn’t fit the mold, our Phoebe is it.
Okay, so who else has been totally bummed out by the last two days at RFTM? Trust me, my name’s at the top of that list. Thank you for sticking with me – for reading, for adding your thoughts, for the words of encouragement – it’s helped. Not made-it-all-magically-delicious helped, but helped nonetheless.
So can we please, for the love of all things holy, shift gears into something less doom and gloom? (“Sure! Why not!” says the quietly chirpy voice in my head.)