The Crab Chronicles

Dog Stories from My Life

Dogs have always been a part of my life, and I was sort of raised by dogs, if you want to know the truth. Before I was born, my parents got a puppy from the animal shelter and raised him, and he was my first pet, there for me until I was 7 years old. His name was Kaiser.

Dad always named our dogs after great military figures or famous people. All the dogs we had that came form the pound were given grand names: Kaiser Wilhelm, George S. Patton, Napoleon Bonaparte, Frederick the Great. In later years when Mom started buying Bassett Hounds they got less grand names like "Baby" and "Molly."

My grandfather [Mom's father] always named his pigs after English royalty; he was Scotch-Irish so that isn't surprising.

I digressed.

Kaiser was Mr. Personality, and he was part of the deal my parents made before marriage. Mom gave Dad an ultimatum, saying he should either propose and get lost. She wanted kids and dogs and he needed to understand, there would be no negotiation.

Their first "baby," Kaiser was so special that my mom wrote a story about him, years ago. This story appears in my memoir, Talking Back: Stories of the Big Hair and Pantyhose Years.

"He would let the children walk on him, pull his tail, chew him, bite him, hit him, take food out of his mouth - he put up with all of it, up to a point. When the children got to the stage where they could walk unaided, he would spank them with his paw when they got abusive. He never really hurt them, or bit or growled. But every now and again, I would hear one of the children yelling "Kaiser HIT ME!"

One day when Bruce was toddling, but less than a year old, Tony heard Kaiser in the next room making a noise like he was going to throw up. Tony ran in there, and Bruce had his entire arm down Kaiser's throat. Kaiser wasn't protesting, he just lay there quietly gagging. Kaiser was trying to eat a bite of dog food, and Bruce wanted it."

Whenever one of my parents put my brother or me in the baby carriage and walked outside with us, Kaiser would watch over us, and he was strict.

"One day when Bruce was an infant, Tony had him parked in the baby carriage outside. Our neighbor Jack Sneed had a big boxer, named Boots. Tony had gone into the middle of the yard for some reason, and left Bruce in his carriage over by the carport for a moment. Tony wasn't really concerned about Boots - he was a friendly dog, and Bruce was safe. Boots trotted over for a peek at the baby carriage.   Kaiser was nowhere in sight.

Kaiser saw Boots, and decided Boots was getting too close to his baby. Kaiser suddenly appeared, rounding the corner in a dead run, and blindsided Boots, knocking him straight up into the air. Boots got up, stared at Kaiser in amazement, then ran back to his house as fast as he could go. Kaiser went over to Tony and looked up at him as if to say, "I got that SOB, didn't I?" He then swaggered over to the baby carriage and sat by it protectively."

When Kaiser died after being hit by a car, we were all sad. It was the first time experiencing death, for me and my brother. We had a cat named BC who we adored, but we needed a dog, so Mom got another one from the pound, a mutt we named George S. Patton. George lived outside, in a very nice custom-made doghouse my grandfather built for him, and he was very nice but not really a cuddly dog. We always brought  him inside on cold nights but he wasn't happy about it, preferring to chase the birds and squirrels in our backyard.

[right, George with Mom, my brother and me on our boat, The Miss Dee]

George loved going to the lake with us. We had a tiny cabin on Douglas Lake in East Tennessee and we went up there every weekend in the summer. He rode in the boat, chased birds, and was good about sticking close to the house. There were no leash laws up there.

We would depart our suburban split-level house on Friday afternoons, the boat behind the old Chevy Impala, and me and Brother in the back seat with the dogs, Mom on the front seat with our cat BC in a large picnic basket. We always stopped at a little country store and bought snacks, and George always got an Almond Joy candy bar. [Vets didn't tell anyone not to give a dog chocolate, back then.]

We still had George when Fred came into our lives.

I was 12 years old and listened to a radio show every night. One night the DJ was giving away puppies! I asked Mom if we could have a puppy and she said "Ask your father." Dad was downstairs asleep on the couch. I asked him and he grunted, not opening his eyes. I told Mom he had said yes. Then I entered the contest. I won! Late that Friday night a man appeared at our front door. Mom and Brother were behind me when I opened the door and the man thrust his hand towards me, and in it was a tiny puppy that looked like a rat. We named him Fred. Mom said later the DJ's dog must have gotten pregnant and he didn't want the puppies so they were giveaways. 

[left, my brother in college, with Fred]

Fred was a great dog. He was big and furry and obviously had a lot of German Shepherd. He was very good tempered. One day at the lake, Dad was in our little jonboat and took a sharp turn to avoid a log, and fell out. Fred sat there regally for about 15 minutes until the boat ran out of gas going in circles.

Fred adored pizza, and when my parents lived on Melton Hill lake in the 1980's they were so far away from town that Dad had to go and pick up pizza. Fred was always given the crusts. It got to where Dad would walk in the door carrying the pizza box and Fred would walk over to the table, sit beside it, and drool a big puddle long before he got his first piece of pizza.

Once on Valentine's Day my father brought my mom a box of candy, a Whitman Sampler. The lid was not easy to remove. They left the box on the coffee table, and when they came back the entire box was gone. They found the box in the guest bathroom with all the chocolates - - and their wrappers -- missing. Fred ate the entire box except for two pieces! Mom called the vet, worried, but after a day or so of indigestion he was fine. He probably weighed 80 lbs. then.

We had a lot of Bassetts over the years too, but they deserve their own blog.

I miss our last one, Lola, who passed away a couple of months ago. Life is so much richer with dogs. They are the personification of Love.

#dogstories, #funnystoriesaboutdogs, #talkingbackstories, #thedogwhoeatscandy, #thedogbabysitter

One Day Soon

My mom passed away almost exactly five months ago, on June 28, 2020. I miss her every day, but as I bustled around the kitchen this morning making pecan pie and trying to get everything straight and the table set, I was fine. My son and his friend came over and helped me with cleanup. We have friends coming by to eat with us later today.

I took a quick break to watch a few minutes of the dog show.

As I was watching the dog show it occurred to me that Mom loved to watch those type shows and took great delight in knowing the names of most dog breeds and learning about them. She loved dogs. When she talked to my father about getting married she said "I plan to have at least two or three children and we will have a dog, or I won't marry you." Kids and dogs were part of the deal. Dad was smart enough to agree to all of it.

Mom treated her dogs like family, and she made no bones about how important dogs were to her life. I thought about that as I watched the dog show, then --

I just burst into tears.

That's the way I grieve, slowly this time. With my father, in 1996, I cried a lot but mostly right afterwards. Then I just felt sad for months, wishing I could pick up the phone and call him. The passing of my mom, who I had in my life for 58 years, has been a different kind of grief. The grief is bigger, and it hurts much more, so I have to process it more slowly. About once a day I want to tell her something, and I remember she is gone and I just stop what I'm doing and cry for a few minutes. I have boxes of kleenex stashed all over the house.

I know many of us are mourning loved ones lost to Covid-19. There will be empty places at the table for years to come, as we grapple with the terrible losses of 2020. Loved ones gone, jobs gone, many in the country hungry. It's a long national nightmare.

A little while ago, I was looking at a quilt made by my grandmother and my great grandmother in 1933, when Memaw was pregnant with my mom. [See photo at left]

Memaw was big pregnant in 1933, during the worst part of the Great Depression, and her husband was out of work and there was no money. Granny Butler and Grandaddy couldn't help because they had lost all their money in the Depression. Papa's parents were struggling. Everyone was struggling. Yet Memaw and Granny Butler made a pink and blue double wedding ring quilt for the new baby, not knowing if it was a boy or a girl.

They pieced together the top, but then somehow it never got finished. A few years ago I told Mom I wanted to see it finished. Neither one of us are quilters. Luckily, one of my Thompson cousins is a very skilled quilter, and she finished the quilt for us, which was really kind.

I have decided to keep the beautiful quilt in the living room, a reminder of three incredible ladies. They got through hard times, and the hard times didn't defeat them.

I can too.

One day the tears will be done, and I will smile when I think of Mom.

One day we will all be vaccinated against this terrible plague, and there will be some positives to come of this, I know -- people will be more aware of germ transmission, will wash hands more often, and I think will be aware of the importance of sticking together as a family, and as a nation.

Despite the pandemic, I have friends and family members who have gotten married, who have had babies, who have homeschooled their children, and kept right on going.

One day soon, we will look back on this year and feel pride because we survived, and we still love each other, and America is still strong.

One day.

In the meantime, we will be strong, and we will keep the faith. We will get through this.

Amen.

Have a blessed Thanksgiving, everyone!!

 

Rocks, Snow, and the Rose Bowl

I just realize I have not posted in a while. The past ten days have been a bit challenging.

Brother came in for Thanksgiving with a cold. He gave it to me. I gave it to Mom. Brother is now well. I am about 75% well. Mom is about 50% well and still coughing. Fortunately, we have a home health nurse coming in to check on Mom and she came a couple of days ago. Mom's chest was clear, no fever, and oxygen level was good. No need to haul her to the doctor, thanks be to God. Mom has a yucky cough which worried me.

Anyway, being a caretaker to an elderly person when all you want to do is curl up on the sofa and do nothing is.... a bit of a challenge. When I get a cold my voice gets very hoarse and I tend to sound like a demented gnome -- with drill sergeant tendencies when I talk to Mom because I have to talk LOUD so she can hear me. 

The house is decorated for Christmas and 90% of the gifts are bought. Lola has not wagged all the ornaments off the tree, but she is trying. Putting it right in front of the french doors is why -- she likes to look out and bark at anyone in our yard, and Michael, when he's coming home from work, and squirrels, and the neighbor's cat who likes to swish around the front patio and torture her...

I try to get presents under the tree as quickly as possible every year, because it cuts down on ornament loss due to her running under the tree.

This year I made a gift for a family member that took some time. Not a huge amount of time, but enough to make it a project. Two of my cousins helped me with it. I will try to get it mailed off today or tomorrow. 

We are supposed to get SNOW tomorrow. Yes, you read that right. I suspect we will see flurries but no accumulation because the ground is warm and the high will be 38 degrees. Still, just the word snow makes me want to jump in the car and go buy bread and milk. Kroger will be crazy today.

On a happy note, The Georgia Bulldogs are the SEC CHAMPS! Woo hoo! I was hollering the other day when we beat Auburn for the championship. On New Years Day my fanny will be parked in front of the TV watching the Rose Bowl. UGA fans and alumni are already booking flights. Not me. I like to sit on my sofa and watch games.

I didn't used to get too excited about football, but my southern heritage is kicking in. Here's how I know I am an old white southern lady now:

Every summer I grow tomatoes. Tons of them. I don't even like tomatoes. I feel compelled to grow them, however.

I get really excited watching SEC football games featuring the Georgia Bulldogs -- I am an alumni, as are my parents, my aunts and uncles and some cousins..

At Christmas I like to get my tree up, presents under there, and baking started no later than December 5th. It might snow a little bit and cause the city to shut down, so Christmas has to be done before that possible crisis.

I baked Rocks the other day. You can find the recipe here. Nothing makes the house smell so good as those savory cookies. They are the Family Cookie.

I am contemplating getting Lola a Christmas stocking. She needs a new leash and she can always use treats. (That may not be a Southern thing but so be it..)

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I have friends and family in California in the path of those horrible wildfires. Please say a prayer for them. I am concerned.

Photos of Us

It occurred to me recently that I had not posted many photos of us in recent months. It has been a stressful time, for lots of reasons, chief among them Mother not feeling well and needing to go to the hospital and then the rehab place over the summer. Then when she got home she continued to have bathroom issues but those are resolved now, thank goodness. 

When I come through a challenging time in life and get to the other side it's always a big exhale, a big THANK YOU to the Lord for seeing us through each crisis, which he always does. 

So here are some glimpses of us...

My brother has come to visit us several times, helping with Mother. Here he is playing with Lola -

Michael has become an accomplished maker of crepes - below left, Bruce and Lesleigh and Michael

Lola loves to sit with Michael while he watches TV

above, Mom looking MUCH better!

below, me trying to make a decent selfie

Lola and Friend

This is Lola and my neighbor's puppy, Freida -- hard to get a non-blurry photo of her because she is a whirling dervish puppy. Lola adores her. She lets Freida bite her ears, bite her tails, jump all over her. She's incredibly patient. When we walk outside and she hears them talking to the puppy next door Lola's tail just starts going 90 miles an hour. Lola is about 6 years old and is spayed. Maybe she wishes she had had a puppy. She is a rescue so we don't know if she ever had puppies, but likely not.

Walking Lola used to feel like a chore, but the older I get the more I realize I need to get out every morning and just feel the sunshine on my face, and notice the lovely neighborhood I live in, with its pine trees, azaleas, magnolias -- so much beauty, everywhere. When I was young I didn't notice anything. One of the joys of aging is that because the world seems to be spinning around crazy fast, I realize it's important to pay attention. I don't want to miss anything, even canine friendships.

 

The Destructor

Remember the other day I wrote about a friend of Mike's becoming a dad? Well, I decided it would be a good idea for him to bring his puppy to us to look after since they were spending so much time at the hospital and the puppy was all alone for hours. So on Monday afternoon we got her.

Let me just say this from the outset: I have had many dogs in my life. From pound dogs to bassetts we have always had a dog. For some years, my parents had three dogs. They lived on the lake and there was plenty of land for them to run around on.

The puppy, however, has been a tornado of canine destruction and mayhem. She is half pit bull, half boxer. Three months old.

She is not fully housebroken. Fortunately, we need to get the family room carpet cleaned soon anyway. She turned over my drink twice last night and then tried to eat the cup, which is fortunately plastic. I only drink water, so no major carpet mishap there, just annoyance.

We weren't sure how Lola would react, but she has been unfailingly kind and tolerant of the puppy.

Lola was an older dog when we adopted her, a rescue. She has accidents now and then but mostly she's housebroken. The dog before her, Coco, had medical issues and we couldn't take her outside, so I spent a lot of time cleaning the floors. So did Mom, the kids, all of us.

Before Coco, I had not puppy parented in some years. Especially not a live wire like this puppy. We have gone through two rolls of paper towels in less than two days.

Her favorite thing to do is try and chew Lola's tail. Lola tolerates this with great patience.

These are some of the things she has mistaken for chew toys:

my Teva sandal

my shoes that I was wearing at the time [hard to walk when a puppy is biting your shoes]

the TV remote control

electrical cords

my bongo drums

my foot

a kleenex, and several paper towels and napkins [she loves paper ripping]

my bathrobe

the mail

Lola's bed

the sofa in the family room

Michael thinks she is adorable, but he is not here most of the time. I actually work from home, I've had to remind him. Hard to get work done when you're trying to watch a puppy and keep her form destroying the house.

She goes home late this afternoon, thanks be to God.

 

Three Weeks

Today is the third week anniversary of my pacemaker surgery. Recovery is slow but steady. I try to do a little more each day, to push myself a bit more. I am not sedentary.

I go up and down the stairs about 6-10 times a day, just in the normal course of the day. I walk Lola for short distances several times a day. I prepare 3 meals a day, most days. I also work at the computer 8-9 hours most days. So I actually have a really active life. By 8 most nights I am really tired.

The only really annoying aftereffect of the surgery is that I get tired more easily than usual. I also am more sensitive to the humid heat that is such a part of life in Georgia in the summer.

Michael worked all day yesterday and I thought he might be too tired to walk Lola when he got home, so when I finished work at 5, I took her for a short walk. I got just a couple of houses down the street, and here came a family with two dogs. Pregnant mama holding leashes for two dogs, and Dad pushing a stroller with a toddler. I've seen this family before. Well, Lola wanted to rush over and make friends. I struggled to hold her. I always discourage her interactions with other dogs because I fear a fight, even though 99% of the time she is just wants to be friendly.

While I struggled to hold Lola, who was barking maniacally and pulling with all her strength, I knew I was going to lose her. I hollered at the daddy to please come take her leash and he came over and took it, quick. Thanks be to God. He then led her over to get acquainted with his dogs, a pug and a little mutt, who were being very good. I asked him if he could please walk with me to the house to get Lola inside. By then I was gasping -- a combination of nerves and heat, I'm sure.

He was very nice and walked over to the house with me. Turns out, he sells medical equipment. He knew the surgeon at Northside who put in my pacemaker! Small world.

I had to come in and sit for a while to catch my breath and calm down.

Then Michael came in from work and I told him what happened. He was mad at Lola. He did take her to walk, though, for a little bit.

We had some thunderstorms yesterday which is a great thing, since that means I don't have to water the gardens today. My gardens are growing well but there are a lot of yellow leaves on all the plants. I think that is caused by too much water but I'm not sure.

That's all I know. Stay cool y'all.

I just wish some of the tomatoes would ripen up.

Lola At Table

At dinner every night Lola tries her best to get up in a chair and steal food off the table. It's annoying but also funny. She barks. She whines. She cries.

We usually put plates and dishes on the floor for her to lick.

She also loves broccoli and asparagus.

Last night, she realized Mother had moved a box out of the chair next to her, and she worked and worked until she got up on the chair. Mother keeps saying she needs a high chair. I love the dog but that's going a bit far.

Anyway, when I saw Lola trying to get up on the chair I grabbed my phone and took photos.

Mother shouldn't have given her a morsel of pumpkin bread -- that's encouraging bad behavior IMHO -- but whatever..

My Dog Plays X-Box

I got up this morning and found this. Lola has been staying up half the night playing X-Box with Michael. She was exhausted. That Civilization Revolution game is addictive.

I told her that Michael needs his sleep. He doesn't need to stay up all night playing videogames with her. She said she has tried to quit but she can't... and she might need to go to a 12 step program soon... one that supplies donuts to the addicts..

She pointed out that she has been a good influence on him lately. She has gotten him to eat more salads -- spinach and gorgonzola last night, from the restaurant where he works.

Lola loves fruits and vegetables and tries to set a good example for the boy. She will eat broccoli florets all day long.

[We won't mention the unfortunate sight of her in my room the other day sucking on an old banana peel. So unladylike.]

Lola also promised she wouldn't growl at the yard men and attack the back door any more, knocking out the glass panels. (Took Michael and his friend a couple of hours the other day to get the new glass cut and fix the panel.)

She tries to be a good example. In addition to eating broccoli, cucumbers, bananas, and even jalapenos, she exercises me every day, walking me around the neighborhood. In return, when Mother and Michael call Lola fat or make rude remarks about her belly I point out that she is merely BIG BONED. It's a basset hound fact. She can't help it.

She stalks the squirrels in the yard. Her body goes rigid when she sees one on the grass near her. She told me we just need to set some traps and get rid of those pesky squirrels. After all, they are why we can't feed the birds. Lola feels like it would only take 2-4 squirrels to make her a lovely fur jacket. I pointed out that the squirrels are welcome in our yard and we would never harm them, and she said I was NO FUN AT ALL.

Good thing it's a cool rainy day, the type of day where Lola just lounges on the couch most of the day. She needs her rest after last night's x-box marathon...

Broken Glass

It's been a really quiet week. I've been working on some writing projects and I've got a work from home assignment. I guess it was time for a little drama around here.

The yard service I use hasn't had much to do this winter, of course, but I keep them on because they are reliable and keep the yard neat. I talked to the head guy late yesterday afternoon and explained we needed the big hydrangea behind Mother's window cut back, so she can see out. The bushes in the front had gotten really scraggly, too. So the yard guys were tasked with more than their usual stuff.

While they worked, I was here at the computer in my room, and Lola was downstairs barking furiously. I didn't pay any attention, because she barks like that at any human who comes into our yard. They finally finished and she quit and came up to my room and jumped on the bed and went to sleep. Barking is exhausting. This is her pattern.

A little while later I got up and noticed that she was licking her front paw a lot. That's when I noticed the old blanket I keep on my bed to protect the spread had blood on it. I grabbed some paper towels and looked at the paw. She cut the pad on the bottom. I got the blood stanched and called a friend who is a vet. I texted her a photo of the paw. She said it's nearly impossible to stitch that area because the moment the dog walks on it the stitches pop, and it's hard to keep a dog real quiet and still long enough for healing. I got a bandage on her foot -- twice -- and it fell off both times as soon as she walked.

Lola hadn't cried or yelped when she cut the foot, and wasn't crying or seeming particularly upset when I was doctoring on her.

When I went downstairs a little later to finish dinner, I realized what had happened. Lola had hit the back door so hard she broke one of the glass panels in the door.

Fortunately we have a neighbor who does handyman work and he's going to come and fix the door today.

Lola's paw stopped bleeding pretty quickly and she seems totally fine this morning, although a lot more quiet than usual. I gave her some sliced avocado last night at dinner. It's full of vitamins and hopefully it will help with healing. I don't think the vet can do anything but if she seems worse of course I will take her to the vet.

In other news... Michael has become obsessed with an X-Box game called Civilization. He gets some history lessons there which is great, but playing X-Box all night is not conducive to good study and work habits. I keep trying to get him to get into better sleeping and eating patterns but it's an uphill battle. He's a teenager.

Mother isn't feeling well this morning.

It occurred to me the other day, I am trying to care for an 81 year old and an 18 year old, and I am right in the middle. Both ages have their particular issues. Mother is a lot more reasonable, of course. She doesn't throw dirty clothes on the floor, play with her phone constantly, call everything "stupid," stay up half the night playing videogames, or talk obsessively about her next tattoo. It would make a funny sort of Freaky Friday movie if she changed places with Michael for a day, though. I am thinking she would ace his schoolwork and he would put the X-Box on the TV in her room, and there would be all sorts of hilarity.

And I would still be in the middle. On second thought.... maybe not. Let's just go with the status quo...