Tag: dogs

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F. Scott Fitzgerald

Over the past ten years, we’ve rescued three Schnoodles and given them all literary names. Boo Radley (To Kill a Mockingbird) was found behind the door of an empty duplex, abandoned by his former family when they moved out. Ollie (named for my favorite poet, Mary Oliver) was a young stray found on the streets of north Georgia. Fitz (short for F. Scott Fitzgerald) came to us following a badly broken leg (the x-ray looked like a candy cane snapped off at 12:00 of the hook) that the vets barely managed to save. He also had extensive road rash, leading us to believe that he may have been thrown from a moving car. He’s had a large cyst removed from his neck and had most of his rotting teeth extracted since he came to us, including his canines because of CUPS Disease. He also has cataracts, but he can still miraculously spot a lizard from a mile away. Fitz is the happiest little dog I’ve known in all my years.

Fitz is my soul dog – he sleeps right next to me, he has to be in my lap, and he invades my space right down to the air I breathe (he’s usually checking to see what I’ve most recently eaten when he gets in my face, being the little foodie he is). He likes to do what I do, so if I get up from writing to refill my coffee, he assumes the writer position in my chair in front of my computer. He heard it was NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), so here he is – working on his first novel. He’s going for those 50,000 words this month.

And oh, how I wish I knew his story.

F. Scott Fitzgerald,

our Schnoodle “Fitz” for short, works

on his current book

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He’s Home, all Healthy

Boo Radley sporting his Parti spotting shades of gray, more evident following a grooming.

Boo Radley gave us a scare this week. Our sevenish-year-old Parti Schnoodle who came into our lives as an abandoned, starving, severely matted rescue whose tangles were so horrible they nicknamed him Einstein, had a lump pop up over his left hip.

We went straight to the verge of panic, stopping short of it when the vet had a quick opening.

I dropped him off Thursday morning for some tests and left a skeptical, trembling Boo with the look of betrayal in his eyes in the caring hands of our veterinary clinic’s staff, who always greet us by name.

The call came during a state Zoom call when some of our students were presenting their projects on poverty to leaders across the state.

I shut off my camera and muted my microphone and took the call.

“Boo Radley is going to be fine,” the office assured me. “He has a lipoma, a benign tumor of fatty tissue.”

They’d performed a fine needle aspiration and examined the cells to be sure that they were not cancerous.

I picked him up after work, and as I was waiting for him to be brought up front, one of the veterinary technicians whispered, “I just want you to know how sweet your dog is. I was back there earlier, and I caught him looking at me with his big eyes, pleading with me to love on him. I opened his kennel and took him out and he showered me with kisses. He is one sweet boy!” This vet tech was a man, and Boo has always taken to men much more quickly than women. On the Schnoodle Facebook page, this seems to be a Schnoodle trait to prefer men.

He’d already forgiven me for leaving him by the time they handed him back to me. He caught a glimpse of the dog before him leaving, meandering with his family back to their car, and barked cuss words at them like a little banshee.

“This is ‘the other side’ of Boo Radley,” I pointed out. “Sweet boy can’t mind his own business. He has strong opinions and forces them on others.”

They chuckled and handed me the bill. I did not chuckle, and paid it.

As we neared the Johnson Funny Farm, I cracked the window so Boo could do his favorite thing – – sniff all the smells of the fauna and flora of the realm that is now his permanent place in the world – not a place of abandonment, but a place of love and belonging. The place where he will live out his full life, grow old, and cross the Rainbow Bridge someday. Just not today, thankfully.

#lovestoride #frontseatdog

I assured him when he got up this morning that he did not have to go back to the vet today. He went outside, did his business, and came in and had his blue jean time where he plays tug of war with the legs of my husband’s jeans for a moment, then had his treat. As I write at this very moment, Boo is snuggled by my right shoulder as he is each morning, snoozing in the comfort of the life he knows.

And my heart, too, is at peace.

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The Conference Getaway

When I bring out my small suitcase I use for overnight conferences, my dogs all know I’m leaving. They know I’m going to shower them with love and treats after I load the car, but that’s not what’s important to them at the moment.

Boo Radley takes to the laundry room and sulks on his blanket by the window. (Later, my husband will text me with a photo of him staring down the driveway for my electric blue RAV-4, holding out hope I’ll be back before nightfall – – and he won’t come in until he’s picked up and brought inside). Ollie flattens out on the floor, chin to the ground and legs splayed parallel on both sides like an unstuffed animal in random places that make no sense.

But Fitz, my soul dog, gets clingy like a toddler suffering from severe separation anxiety. This baby actually whines, as if trying to convince me not to go.

“You’re leaving. I don’t want you to leave. Don’t go. Stay home.”

On these mornings when I settle in to try to write before I leave town, Fitz won’t stand for it. He gets between the computer and me and refuses to budge. This morning, he came clear over the coffee table between our chairs and wedged his way in between my keyboard and me.

I have to stop what I am doing to make time for my sweet boy, and remember that while he is a big part of my world, I’m his entire world. I have to reassure him again and again and again and again and again that I will be back. With yet another treat.

I look into his searching eyes that are begging me to change my mind. I tussle his ears and plant a kiss between his eyes.

“I’ve got to go out and earn a living, your Highness,” I remind him, “to take care of you three spoiled rotten Schnoodles who have become accustomed to all your treat expectations.”

This doesn’t humor him at all. It’s a very sad day here, and Fitz would like everyone to take a moment today to feel sorry for him. He’d like everyone reading this to please spend extra time with your dogs today, to give them treats and plenty of love, and to tell them that there are actual dogs out there whose people leave them for a day or two, and it’s just not right.

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No Thunder Needed

Our Schnoodle Ollie is not like his brothers at all. I tell him all the time: You’re the smartest dog we’ve got.

Then, just to try to prove me wrong, his hilarious antics kick in.

He naps on the coffee table. He flips upside down in a chair with his feet all quirky and takes another nap. He brings me his ball to throw, then runs off in an entirely different direction like he thinks it’s landed somewhere else. It’ll be right in front of him on the bed, yet he digs through the covers pretending it’s somehow ended up inside the middle of the mattress. His never-ending humor keeps us entertained.

He is campaigning for all he’s worth to be Dog #1. He will trick Boo into getting out of his dad’s lap so he can sit in the favored spot.

He de-thrones the other two in other ways, too. He takes the prized bed spot and then pretends to be heavily asleep when either of the other barks at him.

He ain’t skeert.

You know those dogs that

hear thunder and curl up

in the sink? Meet Ollie.

No thunder needed

to do ridiculous things

for no good reason

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June 23 – It’s Getting Real! Boarding our Boys…

Ollie

One of the reasons we bought a camper in 2020 was so we could enjoy weekend getaways without having to board our three schnoodles. We call them our four-legged sons. They have definite food preferences, and true to the Schnoodlehood, they are each loyal to their one chosen toy. Fitz has a green turtle he uses to self-soothe, Ollie has a pink Hartz ball he lives to chase, and Boo Radley has a Shrek blanket that of all the things in this world he gets most territorial over. It breaks my heart to have to board them when we take a non-camping trip, so much that I feel tears welling up just thinking about it.

Don’t get me wrong – – we love their kennel, they love their kennel, and they get to stay together in the same crate. They’ll have outdoor playtime with other dogs, but just like siblings, they’ll schnocker and schnortle around at each other in their play-fighting ways while at the same time bringing each other the reassurance of family togetherness while we parents are away.

They don’t dislike the kennel, but they whine and carry on and show their anxiety about leaving home unless they know we are pulling a camper. Fitz will whine like a baby once we get on Highway 362.

All. The. Way. There.

Fitz

Boo Radley will likely lose control of his bowels for one small half second somewhere in the floorboard – usually around the gas station, and it will be like dime-size hail but will smell across three states. It won’t matter if he’s already taken care of this business this morning – – this is his way of showing me – proving – that his anxiety is higher than the St. Louis Gateway Arch and he is protesting being left behind. And Ollie, the most easygoing dog ever, will root his way into my lap just to inhale my exhales as we make our way there.

Their food is individually measured, bagged, and labeled for the week ahead. Their toys are packed next to their treats, and their shot records are all updated and entered into the system at their kennel. While we’ll only be gone a week, there will be no one playing morning tug of war with Briar’s jeans legs, no one putting his warm little muzzle up to my face to greet me first thing in the morning, and no one barking at one of us to throw his ball down the hall so he can run for it again,…and again….and again. No one reminding us about treats. No one waiting for one of us to crush an empty K-cup box with our foot so he can come steal it away, whisk it off to the couch, and chew on it in the living room until we take it away.

They’ve seen the suitcases. They’re suspecting something’s up, but not yet knowing exactly what.

Is it too late to back out? My heart can’t take leaving my babies!

I suppose that’s what sunglasses are really for……

Boo Radley
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#VerseLove April 24 with Susie Morice

Today is Day 24 of #VerseLove at http://www.ethicalela.com, and Susie Morice is our host. She inspires us to write poems using a junk drawer to determine things about who we are. You can read her full prompt and the poems of others here. I chose to write about the treasure I found in someone else’s junk dogs.

Fitz
These Three Kings

I found three castoffs
betrayed, neglected, abused
I crowned these three kings
Boo Radley
Ollie, “the baby” who is always ready to play
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Savoring Saturdays – 1828 Coffee Company Breakfast and Hanging Out at Home

Boo Radley, napping on the back of my chair

Since January, we’ve made an intentional plan to savor our Saturdays by starting with coffee and dialing back the pace of life. Boo Radley and his brothers helped us do that today. All three dogs were in different chairs, in different sleeping positions, strewn across the furniture like cozy throw blankets on this cloudy, cold afternoon – inspiring us to kick back and take it easy.

We started the day at 1828 Coffee Company with a cinnamon roll, a slice of breakfast casserole, cheese grits, lemon biscotti, coffee, and lavender latte. What a feast! What a treasure! The gifts of time, togetherness, and relaxation without pressing deadlines are on my list of gratitudes for today.

And life is far too short not to be counting.

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Gratitude for Felix on his Birthday

The key to loving how you live is in knowing what it is you truly love. – Sarah Ban Breathnach, Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy

Today is my dad’s birthday. He’s a classic! 

Felix

Forever a collector~
Eloquent officiant
Lover of books
Incurable love of dogs
Xenial pastor

Dad’s Valentine/Birthday dog he rescued a couple of years ago, a Schnoodle named Kona, has brought a whole new realm of friendships through the local dog park, which he visits more than once each day to let Kona play and to chat about life with other dog owners. He held a birthday party for her there last year (complete with dog treats and ice cream) and in a characteristic Dr. Dolittle move, blessed all the animals – including a parrot who showed up for the party and sat on the fence. This past week, he officiated at a dog park memorial for the unofficial mayor of the dog park and made the paper. Here he is, in true Felix fashion, officiating:

Happy Birthday, Dad!