Category: Skitter

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Yard Work For Skitter

Skitter and I put on our big girl Bow Ties o’ the Day for an afternoon of unspeakable work outside. Skitter stood on the patio being foxy-looking while I put on my rubber gloves and grabbed a plastic grocery bag, for the sole purpose of de-pooping the back yard. Skitter happily watched me work, and then added a couple of poops to my chore. And look at how tired it made her to supervise my efforts on her behalf. I’m certain you don’t want me to describe any more about it, and I’m certain I don’t want to tell you any more about it. Some things are better left unsaid. But it’s no accident paw print Bow Tie is brown.

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I Love Me My Capes!

Baseball Bow Tie o’ the Day tells you I’m ready for Summer to get its butt here ASAP. It’s not just the cold. It’s the mud. Skitter brings mud into the house every time she comes in from pottying. I have to dust pan and Swiffer at least three times a day. It’s not as if I can tell Skitter to remove her paws before she enters the house. And training her to wipe her feet ain’t gonna happen.

The most important part of this post photo is clearly my newest Suzanne-made cape. The clash it adds to my shirt, tips the scales way over the clash-snappy limit. I win. Whatever the fashion competition, I win. My cape is a superpower all by itself. I haven’t had it long enough to have determined exactly what superpowers it gives me, but I’ll let you know when I find out.

I can say for sure that when I wore it in MCR last week, a few residents did stop in mid-sentence to gaze at its billowy, unfurled-ness as I passed through the halls. It at least has the power to cause momentary speechlessness.

The cape didn’t make Mom one bit speechless though. She complimented the cape, then she went on and on about what a talented seamstress Suzanne is. There I was, in person, with Mom in her room, after driving 2 1/2 hours to visit her, and all Mom could talk about was Suzanne. Of course, all I talked about was Suzanne too. And Skitter. We talked about Skitter, who Mom couldn’t quit petting.

Skitter had to get used to my capes when I began wearing them a few months ago. They whoosh around as I walk, and they are large compared to coats. Occasionally, a cape hem brushes across Skitter’s back. It frightened her at first, but she learned to tolerate it. She tolerates the entire cape thing now because she has no choice .

I usually wear a coat when I take The Skit for her walkies. But for the rest of the outside world, I wear a cape. When I drape a cape on my shoulders, she knows she’s not going anywhere (except when we visit Mom). When I put on a cape to go out alone or with Suzanne, Skitter puts on her I-know-I’m-not-invited, pouty face. I think Skitter blames the capes for her being left alone– as if they’re my new pets and I’m taking them for secret walkies without her. Perhaps Skitter needs her own personal cape to wear, and to play with when I’m not home. I’ll speak to Suzanne, the resident seamstress, about that.

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We Don’t Know Why

I decided to wear this Tie o’ the Day in order to be sorta blendy with my shirt. Not matchy, just blendy. Today, I’m playing the clash as low-key as I know how to play it, because Skitter is ailing and I don’t want to add any loudness to the vibes of the house.

The tiny part of Skitter’s face you see here in the photo is pretty much all we’ve seen of her for the past three days. She hasn’t wholeheartedly performed her “chew dance.” She hasn’t even finished eating her daily chew treats. She’s kept herself in her beds, under her Suzanne-made blankets. She does, however, seem to want to do her convalescing right next to me or Suzanne. She has to be close enough to reach out at least one of her long legs to constantly touch one of us. Her paws are pokey.

We don’t have a clue what’s got Skitter down. She doesn’t limp when she walks. She’s not throwing up. I felt around in her mouth, and her teeth and gums seem fine– stinky but fine. She’s not the kind of mutt who digs though garbage cans so I doubt she’s eaten some dangerous food scrap. I also don’t think she has Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).

On the other hand, dogs can sometimes sense somethin’s up. Dogs get vibes. The Dog of My Life, the late Araby, once physically and literally saved me from suicide. Araby had passionate, heightened senses when it came to knowing and watching over me.

The mind-meld Araby and I shared also made Araby an excellent editor of my writing. I used to read drafts of my poems to her, and I could tell by how she moved her facial muscles as I read whether a poem needed more work, or whether it was worthy of being sent out for publication. Not one poem Araby okayed was ever rejected for publication. Araby got me. And she got what I was trying to say in my writing. Hell, sometimes I don’t even get me, let alone get what I write.

Dogs get it. They compute. They sometimes call us on the b.s. they see us pull. They can save us from our own mis-steps. Some dogs have better intuition than others, just like some people do, but they all feel us to some extent. So how could Skitter not be hip to the shifts in my bipolar tectonic plates? Poor thing.

Knowing Skitter as well as I do, I’m confident my current mental state is not what’s making her feel icky. I’m sure she’s aware of my crazy head, and I’m sure she worries a bit about me right now. I have no doubt she senses my current depression, but she’s never joined me on my bipolar arc before, so I don’t think she’s following in my head’s swinging now. I think she simply has some kind of doggie flu bug in her system. She’ll be prancing to the mailbox again alongside me and my pendulum head any day now. And I’m hoping it’s tomorrow.

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A Speedy Jaunt To D-ville

So, about yesterday’s adventure… We had such a lovely, long day with Mom in Delta I had no time to write and post about it last evening, as I had said I would.

We bawled. We laughed. We chortled. We told a zillion some-what true stories. Millard Care and Rehab (MCR) shook, rocked, rolled, and roared yesterday. Damn! Snowman Bow Tie o’ the Day and Winter Cape o’ the Day had a grand Saturday hangin’ out with Mom. Mom is, as Suzanne says, the Belle of the Ball at MCR. And she is treated as such.

I never alert Mom when I’m headed down to see her, in case something happens to prevent me from showing up when I say I will– so she’s always a bit surprised when we walk in. Yesterday, she immediately started to cry. She kept assuring me and Suzanne that her tears were tears of joy. What a welcome for us! Of course, I know Mom’s joyful tears were all for Suzanne. I’m the third wheel when they’re with each other. (Poor me, eh?) Suzanne gave Mom some winter table runner-y things (I don’t know what they’re called) she had quilted for Mom’s table and chest of drawers. Goal for Suzanne!

Skitter even drove down with us and got to touch her nose to Mom’s hand from outside, through the screen window in Mom’s room.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that Skitter and Mom took to each other immediately when they first met– despite Skitter’s fear of everything, and despite Mom’s dislike for touching pets. Skitter has always gently pawed at Mom, and Mom has always enjoyed petting Skitter. Skitter has never been afraid of Mom’s touch. Of course, I’m sure it helped that Mom’s hands always smelled of whatever yummy thing she had been cooking.

For our visit with Mom, I wore the latest cape Suzanne created for me. [I’ll display it more completely in a future post.] The cape is dramatic, to say the least. Mom loved both sides of it. In the photo with me and Mom together, Mom is in snuggled in the cape with me. But, of course, you can’t see that very well because my stupid arm is in the way– because I’m such a genius selfie photographer.

One of the coolest features of the cape is that both fabrics are covered in glitter. By the time we were done with all the hugs and kisses of yesterday, Mom had glitter on her clothes and her face, and she sparkled like the sparkler she still is. I love that sparkly broad.

The second picture shows a bit of the other side of my cape, but it primarily shows you the permanent sign in the hall outside Mom’s room, identifying her as the room’s resident. She prizes her bewitching name sign, and will not allow it to be changed even though Halloween is long gone. If nothing else, Mom knows exactly what she’s all about. Clearly, she’s an over-the-top entertainer in her soul.

When I knew Suzanne would be driving down with me, I knew there would be a trip to MOM’S CRAFTS on the schedule. I even ribbed her that her purpose for driving to Delta with me had nothing to do with Mom, but was to go to MOM’S CRAFTS. She ducked out from MCR on her own for that foray. [And thank you, Kyla, for allowing Suzanne to spend our entire Christmas budget on fabric while she was shopping there.] When Suzanne returned to MCR, she gave Mom a peak at her fabric booty, and Mom was in high Heaven checking it out. And then Mom fell all over herself complimenting Suzanne about her mastery of all things sewing and crafting. Suzanne’s sewing head swelled with her own greatness. If Mom had given Suzanne one more compliment, Suzanne’s swelled head would not have fit inside the car. I would have had to tie her to the roof rack for the drive back to Centerville.

I can’t even begin to tell you exactly what we did or what we talked about while playing with Mom, but I think even the MCR staff had a fine time watching and hearing us have a rowdy party. All I can I can say is that the noise and affection never stopped. And the love glittered the entire time.

Like I said about Mom a few paragraphs ago, I love that sparkly old broad.

HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 29 Bow ties. 74 Neckties.

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A Two-fer O’ Ties

Peppermint Bow Tie o’ the Day is this year’s introduction to the Christmas neckwear. Let the holiday atTIEre season begin! I have to start displaying the collection this early, so you can see a representative cornucopia of holiday neckwear by the end of the season. You won’t see every last one of the holiday ties– just a select 100 or so. I’d be wearing them all year if I had to present them all.

Skitter decked herself out in her tartan Tie o’ the Day, in order to attend her award ceremony. I felt like she deserved some kind of prize for finally– after five years with us– being able to set aside her weird fear, and pee while on one of her walks. Finally, she peed somewhere other than on our own property. I still stand all amazed at her new ability.

I managed to dig out my 1980 Miss Liberty trophy to give to Skitter, to acknowledge her triumph. Skitter didn’t even mind that whatever was atop the trophy had broken off and got lost a couple of decades ago. Skitter’s hairy chest filled with pride as she accepted her trophy– although she thought it was too pokey to sleep with in her crate.

I put it on top of Suzanne’s Ultimate SewingBox for all to see. Since I placed the trophy up there, Skitter has made eye contact with nothing else. I can’t blame her for being dizzy with glee about getting an award. She has worked hard to turn into a real dog.

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Takin’ Baby Dog Steps

Patriotic Bow Tie o’ the Day is as perplexed as I am about why Veterans Day was yesterday, but it is officially observed today.

It is one of my personal pet peeves that often if a holiday falls on a Sunday, we don’t observe it on that day. If a certain date is designated important enough to make it a holiday, we owe it to that important event– and to the folks who were part of it– to observe it on that specific date. If the holiday falls on a Sunday, honor it in a Sunday kind of way. Simple.

Ok, my rant about Sunday holidays is complete. Or not.  I hope the reason for celebrating a holiday on Monday when it falls on a Sunday isn’t just to get a three-day weekend out of it. Now that would be disrespectful– especially in the case of Veteran’s Day. Ok, now my rant is truly over.

And now, a different subject. Currently, in our house, we are celebrating two of Skitter’s accomplishments, both of which she happened to do on Saturday. These may seem like no big deal to you, but remember that Skitter rescued us after she had been severely abused and then abandoned. After five years with us, she is still quite skittish and wary of the world. But we think she might be coming farther out of her dog shell.

The first of Skitter’s two accomplishments occurred when I took her leash off its hook to take her outside for a walk to the mailbox. For the first time ever, she got excited at the sound of that leash. She bounded off her bed, danced around in a circle, and pounded my thigh while she stood on her hind legs. And then she actually stood still, waiting for me to clip on her leash. I’ve never had to force The Skit to go for a walk, but she’s never acted like she particularly liked it either. This new development is humongous. Skitter conquered this milestone we never thought she would. If she hadn’t done it in the previous five years with us, we figured it was never going to happen. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I broke down and cried about Skitter’s new progress.

Skitter’s second bigly accomplishment happened when we went for our second walk o’ that day. Hold onto your hats! You better sit down! This is huge! As soon as her paws hit the grass at the park,…… wait for it!….. SKITTER PEED WHILE WE WERE ON A WALK! Skitter has never peed anywhere except on our property. Can you believe it took five years of Skitter’s living in a secure, loving home– where she is spoiled to the moon and back– for her to have the courage to pee in the great outdoors of the city? I admit it: I broke down and cried for the second time that day.

I’m such a sappy gal.

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Do You Want Halloween Fries With That?

Jack-o-lantern Tie o’ the Day decided to go with a clever costume. Tie clipped on a bow and declared, “I’m a BOW TIE o’ the Day.” Skitter and I went with the silly vibe costume, using the all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips phrase. We decided we are “all that and an order of fries.” Note that Skitter is so content and patient in her fry costume that she tends to nod off.

These are our morning costumes. We have different costumes for later in the day. But for now, we’re wearing our fries as we fill up the candy bowl. As usual, we had to wait to fill it until Suzanne is at work, because candy isn’t sanctioned on her diet, and she tends to grab any visible sweet that shows its face.

I am always the designated candy giver-outer on Halloween evening. I rule the door. I rule the candy bowl. I don’t care how old you are: you are welcome to knock on our door for a goodie. You are not welcome to come back for seconds. And you are not welcome to ask for extra candy for your siblings who are sick and had to stay home. Yeah right, I don’t think so. Believe me, if you try those ploys, I will give you a come-to-Jesus talkin’ to that will be ringing in your ears until New Year’s Eve.

If Suzanne’s home from work when the little treat-seekers come knockin’, and she wants to sneak some candy, she knows better. She’d have to wrestle me for the candy bowl, and she knows she shouldn’t try that– because she knows that despite my peace-love-harmony nature, I am one tough fighter. And, like any champion fighter, I fight dirty. The fight over candy is over before it starts. I win. TKO.

In the end, I give Suzanne a scrap or two of the sweets. You know the kind I let her have. I give her the “bad” candy that not even kids really want– like those Dum Dum suckers and Bit-o-Honey’s. I always buy “bad” candy as a back-up for in case I run out of the good stuff. “Bad” candy is cheap. That’s how you can tell it’s the “bad” candy.” 👻 🎃 🤖 👽 👾 💀 👹 ☠️

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Where Does Suzanne Go When She Goes?

Bow Tie o’ the Day’s paw prints and bones are letting you know that as our ABQ trip wound down, I was sooooo missing Skitter. The way I wore Bow Tie– and the fact that I was rolling my blue eyes– tells you that I stood all amazed and was trying very hard to keep my mouth shut. Why? Because we were far away from home in ABQ, and when Suzanne had a spare couple of hours to explore the surroundings, where did we end up? At a fabric store, of course.

In the hotel lobby the day before, Suzanne had been looking at the tourist pamphlets and advertisements. Wouldn’t ya know it– she found an ad for a fabric store called Hip Stitch. AND the ad had a coupon for a free quarter-piece of the fabric of your choosing. I knew resistance was futile. The fabric store ended up being the first of the two “sights” she saw in ABQ.

To be fair, I willingly drove Suzanne to the fabric store. She said we didn’t need to go, but I knew she was secretly desperate to get to it. You already know I can’t say NO to anything Suzanne wants. And I have to admit that nothing pleases me more than to watch Suzanne’s face be happy in a fabric store. There was no way on earth I wasn’t going to make sure she got there.

Suzanne got a bunch o’ fabric. I made out like the proverbial bandit I am, as well– because I found some terrific cape material. And then we had to buy another suitcase in which to haul our new fabric home from ABQ.

BTW   Suzanne has already started creating my magical ABQ-material cape. Let me assure you right now that based on what I can tell from watching her work on it, the finished cape will be a light year or two beyond cool and hip and groovy. 😲 I’m sharpening up my pester skills so she’ll want to git ‘er done tonight.

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How Do You Explain These Things To A Mutt?

Look at me! Bow Tie o’ the Day and Hat o’ the Day match. I can make that happen sometimes, but it’s usually by accident. Not this time though. I meant to do this. I’m trying to distract Skitter from what’s about to happen.

I’m trying desperately to jolly up the Skit, because in a couple of hours, Suzanne and I are off to the airport to leap on a jet which will land in L.A.. Skitter knows somethin’s up. Her face in this photo is about to break my bow-tied heart. Her eyes look sadly bereft, despite the sombrero she let me put atop her doggie noggin. I was certain that a fun hat would bring her out of her doldrums. It always has that effect on me. But sporting this sombrero only ALMOST made her smile.

It’s hard on us to leave Skitter– with all her fears, her phobias, her fruit loopiness, and her vibrating. But the minute Suzanne’s angel of a sister, Marjorie, comes over this morning to stay with Skitter for an entire week o’ sleepovers, Skitter will perk up. In fact, Skitter will shed a lot of her skittishness, at the very sight of Marjorie. Marjorie has captured Skitter’s shaking, long-legged heart.

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Bow Tie Can Tell The Future

 

 

Here’s what Bow Tie o’ the Day knows with perfect certainty: Suzanne will get home late from work today, because that’s how she rolls every day. Even with The Ultimate SewingBox waiting for her– which is her dream come true– she will still be the brilliant educator she is, and she will put children first. She pushes herself to excel at her work, with the students always foremost in her mind.

But when Suzanne gets home, she will open up The Ultimate SewingBox you see here. And she will be single-mindedly engaged in the task of filling up The Ultimate SewingBox with her sewing supplies– prepping it for her current list of projects. She will not pass GO. She will not collect $200. ( If you don’t get that reference, I feel really bad for you. And I feel really old.) She will not pay attention to me, nor will she acknowledge Skitter. For her, this whole The Ultimate SewingBox thing is her Christmas morning, as it should be.

For me, watching Suzanne hobby around is like watching a litter of puppies play. You can’t not watch them, and you can’t not relax and smile at how seriously they take their playing. The day Suzanne isn’t sewing or crafting in some way is the day she will no longer be with us. And you can be sure I hope that day never comes.

You know how we’re encouraged to have food storage in case of some natural disaster, or a lost job, or the invasion of green aliens? I think Suzanne has decided she needs to store fabric and thread and sewing machines in case of any of these Armageddons. She’ll be sewing a quilt top, while we’re all fighting our neighbors in the streets for the last of the drinkable water. She will not die with her boots on. She will die cradling a bolt o’ flannel in her arms.

I should probably also pack her a 72-hour kit full of sewing and crocheting implements to carry in the trunk of her car. It’ll make us both feel better about the catastrophic end of the world.