Be Still a Minute...

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Wiener Wednesday...Peas and Carrots

We adopted Brisco and Charlene as a "bonded pair". They had been picked up by the Dachshund Rescue volunteers from a shelter where they were taken after being removed from some sort of hoarder type situation. I had very recently lost Dixie Dog, after 14 years, and told myself that I would never be without more than one dog (Dachshund) in my life again so I was thrilled to find a pair who needed to stay together.

I didn't expect them to take away the pain or to replace Dixie. I knew enough about grief by then to know better but they certainly did help brighten my days and put a much needed smile back on my face. It made me feel as if I was somehow honoring Dixie by adopting these two little Dachshunds who needed a home more so than going out and getting a new puppy would have.

And of course, in time, once I got to know them (because whether some believe it or not, they do all have distinct personalities just like we do), I fell every bit as in love with them as I had with Dixie and Dexter. They had obviously been together for awhile because (in the words of Forrest Gump) they "goes together like peas and carrots."

The first time I gave Charlene a bath, Brisco paced back and forth, fretting, whining, doing the nervous yawn, and standing up by the side of the tub to make sure she was okay. I had never before seen a dog so concerned for the well-being of another dog. It was heartwarming to watch.

And after having Dixie (the quintessential Alpha dog) in my life for so many years, I was blown away to see them occasionally eat out of the same bowl even when they each had their own. I didn't think there was a Dachshund alive who would share food with another.

My mother-in-law, Pat, tried that once when she was keeping Dixie while I went on a trip. She thought that Dixie and Sugar (their older Dachshund) would be perfectly happy to sit down and break bread together. No dog was harmed but poor little Sugar got the bajeebies scared out of her that day and Pat learned a lesson about the nature of dogs...Dogs don't break bread together politely...

Unless their names are Brisco and Charlene Darling.

Lucky the Lemon Beagle came in without an ounce of Alpha in his blood which is why I think they have accepted him with open paws. The only time we had a problem was when he tried to jump in the middle of their playtime. Brisco, very uncharacteristically, gave him a little nip to the ear.

He never tried that again,

and so they all lived happily ever after...

Monday, February 11, 2013

I Blinked Again

Friday afternoon I took the boys to Dick's on our yearly quest for baseball cleats. I personally measured Devin's foot on that metal foot-measuring contraption that was, once upon a time, used only by the footwear professionals.

Remember that? Back in the day when we were kids and the nice shoe salesperson smiled at us as we walked through the door, eager to help us find the perfect fit as they sat us down and measured our growing feet and then happily trotted off to the back of the store to retrieve our new shoes, and then on the way home the nice man at the filling station pumped gas into our mother's car as we sat in our seat, sans seat belt, staring at our feet, admiring our new kicks as we listened to Casey Kasem's American Top 40 Countdown on the radio?

Ah, those were the days. Well, minus the seat belt thing. Seat belts are important. Wear your seat belts, kids. It's the law. By the way, did you know that they still play those old Casey Kasem countdowns on some of the XM stations on Saturdays? Takes me back.

I'm not sure why I just jumped aboard the nostalgia train like that or when exactly I started talking like an 85 year old man. Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh yeah, buying baseball cleats. In a men's size 10. It was a very surreal moment, seeing my "little" boy's foot stretch all the way out to the 10 marker. He was wearing an 8 like last week and I'm not exaggerating.

On the way to Dick's he started hitting me up for a new pair of Vans too, saying that his (that he just got like two months ago) were too small which I was not buying. But apparently they are now putting some sort of growth hormone in Doritos because holy smack, my boy has Sasquatch feet. So turns out I was buying after all. And have you checked the price of men's metal cleats lately? Let's just say I sincerely hope those feet are done growing. At least for another year.

In other news, he will be registering for high school tomorrow. HIGH SCHOOL...where we will be attending a parent meeting tonight at 6. How did this happen? I remember when he (or maybe it was his little brother) was a baby and my mother-in-law Pat saying, "Blink your eyes and he'll be 30." I just can't seem to figure out how to make my eyes stop doing that blinking thing. Even Google hasn't been able to help me with that.

Yesterday afternoon when we pulled into the garage Dracen got out of the car and for some reason (Dracen has never needed a reason for anything he does) hopped out of the car and opened an old file cabinet that sits in there and started pulling out various old photos that I didn't even know were in there and proceeded to tell me how weird I looked in all of them. One in particular, of himself as a barely walking toddler, his brother and me. And I'll admit, I did look like death warmed over. But I blamed it on keeping up with him and his brother (but mostly him) which was not a lie.

Most of them I remembered, probably because I have various other copies of them floating around the house or scanned to my computer but there was one in there of Devin and me taken at my mother's house in 2002 that I really didn't remember.

He was two and a half and I was almost thirty-one. I showed it to him and jokingly said, "Look, Devin! This was back when you were still sweet." He grunted and said, "You look like a hippie." And since I've always felt like I have a little touch of hippie running through my veins, I wasn't really offended.

The other day (I think it was Friday before we left for Dick's) I was trying to get his and his brother's attention but they were tuning me out because they were being mesmerized by an episode of Shipping Wars on the t.v. so I said, "Yo! Are you listening to me?" And he was, suddenly and miraculously, able to pick up the sound of my voice again as he snapped his head around and said, "Don't ever say that again!"

I assured him that I had been saying Yo since way before he took his first breath in the world but apparently there is something sort of freakish about hearing your mother speak your street language. But at least now I know how to get his attention.

Now if I can just figure out how to stop this blinking thing...