A Hard Knock Life or Not

Nu Mu napping
Nu Mu napping

My animals have all flatten themselves on the floors of the house as if to say that they give up.  It wasn’t an especially trying day for the terminally fuzzy day.  Everyone made it up this morning and out the door.  The morning walk even had time for a spot of tea.

Then I came home was literally sick on my front porch.

No one else but me.

I cleaned up the porch and then myself with no clue as to what made me sick.

Why are you still awake Momma?
Why are you still awake Momma?

Normally, I would say gluten, but it has never made me heave.

But, the animals. They were fine. No one even had a hairball and now they are passed out.

Life is pretty fantastic when you are fuzzy.

And it isn’t actually so bad when you aren’t.

Luke the Puppy Dog
Cuddle time?

Book Review: All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome

all-cats-have-asperger-syndromeBook: All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome

Author: Kathy Hoopmann

Available: Barnes & Noble, Amazon ($10.95 – $14.95)

Rarely do I venture into bookstore or any major retail store during the holidays unless it Target, but this year I went in search a present for a very special two month old girl.  Truthfully, I had spotted it weeks ago, but I wanted my Momma’s opinion on it.  We were attempting to make our way out of the store when we spot Kathy Hoopmann’s book, “All Cats have Asperger Syndrome”.  We both stopped in our tracks.Love

All Cats have Asperger Syndrome is a beautiful book that elegantly illustrates aspects of Asperger Syndrome that are often hard for adults to define. For families trying to explain what Asperger Syndrome is to others including their children while still working to understand it themselves this book is heaven sent.  Each page of the book has a brief insight into what an Aspie is experiencing and feeling.  It does not attempt to explain the causes or go into detail about the effects of the syndrome.

Sure, he may need a little help following fashionable trends, but don’t forget, everyone is different in his own way and there is a little bit of Asperger is us all.

This book to me is beauty in simplicity.

allcats1Australian born Hoopmann lives in Dubi with her family where she continues to write.  Learn more about this author on her website.

Big Dog … Little Dog..

Are you a big dog or a little dog person? Or are you a cat person?

Can’t I just be a homo sapien sapien? Why do I have to choose a label for you or anyone else? I am a pet owner, really an animal companion. I love my fuzzy and not so fuzzy kids; calling them pets seems a little demeaning given what they mean to me.  Luke is curled up at my back as I type this, just because he wants to be close to me. He isn’t fussing at me for being awake at three in the morning.

Big dog, little dog.. it doesn’t really matter to me so long as my puppy and me are happy and get along.  I was looking for a smaller dog, but then Luke came along I knew he was the one and like in any good relationship when you find the right one you don’t mess with it.

I understand that some people pick their animal companions based size and convenience.  There are practical concerns when bringing any home any animal. There are reasons I don’t have an African Spurred Tortoise or llama.  I live in a small rental house and my teaching salary isn’t as fabulous as politicians seem to think it is.

I was worried about getting a big dog because of my shoulder issues.  Luke, thankful, doesn’t pull and is pretty chill except when I come home.  We are working on the attacking Momma  when she steps in the door issue.  My attempts to find a smaller puppy-dog didn’t work out.  Either I didn’t get a response to my inquires or the adoption fee was simply too much.

Maybe the reason people ask if you are big or small dog person is they are trying to be something they are not and justify their choices.

Luke works for my life all fifty-five pounds of him and I work for him..

Luke the Puppy Dog

My Happy Puppy Tail Ending

This post was going to wait a month so that I could be sure that Luke was going to be staying with me.  A week into our relationship I can’t imagine life without him.  He is my puppy-dog  and I am his person.

How Luke Came To Live in My Little Yellow House

The day after I posted the update about Tank my friend ,Mike, sent a plea into cyber space via Facebook asking if anyone could offer Luke a home.  He had been getting into trouble on the farm and after one of the sheep suffered an attack from all four of the dogs, a new home needed to be found. Luke wasn’t the instigator just young and enthusiastic.  Still they couldn’t keep him around the farm animals.

So, I called Mr. Mike and drove out to Geneva late in the afternoon.  The road was bumpy and had to stop twice for some Gopher Turtles that were sunning themselves in the middle of the dusty tracks .

Luke and his buddies were hanging out in the dog yard.  He was wiggly and just pleased as punch to be meeting a new person.  We took him into the house so adults could talk.   Mike explained that his home was the second for Luke. His first parents discovered they were expecting a child soon after they took him in; they already had two other dogs.  Three dogs and an expectant lady don’t mix, especially one with Like’s energy. It wasn’t an easy decision for the family; to give you an idea his tag read – Luke call Mommy with their number.

Are you my Mommy?

In the end, as you might have guessed, Luke came home with me.  He was so excited to be going on a car ride that he hopped in before we had finished loading his crate.  When we were finally ready to go, he sat himself in the driver’s seat with a happy puppy grin and that wiggly tail moving a million miles an hour.

True to what Mikey’s word, he was awesome in the car and in perfect little gentleman in the pet store. Meeting my friend, Stew, he was relaxed and soon settled down in between the two of us for nap.

Momma, we have to talk…

The kitty boys and him  are getting along, not exactly living in harmony, but no fights or fur flying through the house. He sleeps on my bed at night and since his entrance I have been sleeping through the night.

We have our issues.  Luke won’t go potty while on his leash so everyday we walk to a neighbor’s house so he can run around in the yard and do his business.  Strange, but completely true.  He still prefers my seat to his own in car. In the mornings, he goes with me to get my coffee loving each moment of the ride around the block.  Sometimes, he even lets me back in the car before sniffing the elixir of life.

Is this your seat?

A Home For Tank…

A Tank like puppy

I didn’t intend on getting a puppy dog. Honest.. I daydreamed about it, but after trying a couple of times to adopt off of pet finder I gave up trying for a while. Better to focus on getting my house in order than introducing a new member.

A week ago, there was a Chihuahua-mix wandering in the middle of the street.  When I called out to him, he put his tail between his legs and sat down there.  He just waited for me to come and get him.

We traveled from door to door until my neighbor Mikey opened his door and gave me little Tank’s tale.  As Mike and I chatted Tank kissed my ear.  His owners couldn’t afford to keep him anymore and he was constantly escaping from the yard.

It looked like no one was home and so I took the little guy back to my house to fetch a leash so I could keep him with me while I gardened and watched for his family.  They finally came looking for him forty-five minutes later and was surprised that I had him on a leash. I tried to explain the logic of putting him on it, but when his Momma came over she seemed want to rush him away.  I asked about giving him a home and she said she would ask her daughter.

The next day, I watched little Tank being handed over to another neighbor.  There was a disappointing thud in my heart. I had grown attached to the idea of Tank coming to live with me,but at least he had a home.  Walking by his new home, I would look and just hoping he was happy.

Yesterday morning a man was running after Tank as he rounded the corner of my house.  I said hello and asked after little Tank.  He was still looking for a home.  The man, whose name I never got, offered Tank to me.  I accepted and asked if I could pick him up after work.  Everything seemed good to go..

Tank, however, wasn’t home when I went to pick him. The man who opened the door in his superman boxers said he would bring him over later.  The only knock on the door was a friend who came over to help me attach the garden hose to the faucet.  He left with cookies and I busied myself with chores. The dishes are done, the floors swept and the laundry has been put away.  Just no puppy…

I am not sure what happened.

Exams, Cars and Delays

This week my students take their mid-semester exams. It also marks the beginning the semi-annual whine festival; especially among the seniors.  Their continued enrollment and graduation is on the line.  Participation in the program is voluntary.  If students aren’t benefiting from the program then they can go back to their home school.  If they aren’t attending or they are failing they aren’t benefiting from it. It sounds rough, but it is the reality. There is a waiting list with anxious parents calling daily.

We celebrate their success, but it has to be genuine success.  If they don’t their assignments or attend class, there is nothing for to cheer them for.  Somewhere along the line they learned to expect to things to be given to them, even grades.  They think if they do the work, no matter when or how, that they should get credit. They talk back and do all manner of disrespectful things.  Yet, We love them.

Each and everyone of them.

Not all of them are whiners. But they are all teenagers and mothers. They all deserve a quality education, even if they don’t understand why they need it.

So we give them chance after chance, but then there comes the day when their nine lives have run out and there is nothing more we can do or should do. That’s when we have to stand back and let them have their dose of reality. We let them fail, fall on their bums and dust themselves off.

Please don’t respond telling me that I am a saint.  I am not.  Plus, it makes me uncomfortable when people call me or my fellow teachers one. We are all human beings.

Beings that love what we do and don’t give up on the girls, but that doesn’t make us saints.  We are beings with mortgages, heart aches and issues.

I am real person with faults and problems. Right now my car is in the shop and I don’t have the money to free it. The pantry and frig are nearly as empty as my checking account. I am stressing over that and the fight my furry kids had. One has a gash in his leg, wounded tail and damaged ego.  Jack spent the entire day on top of the cabinets watching his canine brother.  My dearest Boogie is scratched up and feeling guilty.

For a couple of hours last night, I was angry and then fell into a pit of self pity. I crawled out with some furry love and the wise words of an old friend.  I don’t have the confidence of a saint nor do I want to placed on a pillar; it is too hard to balance and they are awful high.

Also, saints don’t procrastinate. Their bad habits are wash away by time and admiration. Mine haven’t been cleansed. No amount of praise is going to transform me into a saint.  I delay at times doing I know should and needs to be done; mostly because getting started on something is often the hardest thing to do. I have issues and anxieties which still cause me to put off things and pull the covers over my head.  Just try getting me into the doctor’s office.

I even delay writing, something I love. Maybe it is stress… and being a real live human being complete with issues sans the halo.