Tag Archives: son

8/9/15 A Homecoming…

Sorry to post this a bit late but the humans have been in my way, scurrying around and doing all manner of strange projects in the home.

Erik came over and I was thrilled to see him. After he gave me a nice belly rub, he put on some old clothes and Mom put a scarf over her head, and they went down to the old bedroom and painted. It was very good paint, a pretty shade of grey, and it didn’t smell hardly at all. I curled up in the middle of the room and observed. Every now and again, they would stop and take a break and scratch behind my ears.

Dad and Jamie, meanwhile, went to a far-away place called, “Ikea”. Jamie says that “Ikea” is a swirling labyrinth of do-it-yourself furniture and Swedish Meatballs.  When they came back, they built these dressers and put them in the bedroom.

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I helped Dad with the dresser. Mom put in the faux “stained glass” windows.

Erik had a meeting and had to leave. We were all sad to see him go, but the rest of the humans kept very busy. Dad bought a bed frame for the old bed, and Mom found some nice bedding. Jamie fussed with the area rug until it was just right, and then Mom lit a lamp on the nightstand that Jamie built (from Ikea). Dad replaced all the light bulbs and a few ceiling tiles. I couldn’t figure out what was going on.

Then Mom told me that Erik is coming home.

I am so excited! I can’t wait!

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Woof! Love, Maggie

6/4/14 Jamie’s Graduation

Sorry I’ve been missing.  And I’m sorry I’m not caught up.  Jamie graduated Monday and the house has been up for grabs!

The kids had so many different activities before graduation:  A dance, an awards banquet, a Mass, a luncheon, then finally Commencement.  8th grade is over and it is on to high school!

The school stretched all these activities out over a couple of days, which meant the humans ran around clucking for a good long time.  Mom was acutely stressed, Jamie was quiet and thoughtful, and Dad didn’t decide what to wear until that morning when he got his clothes from the cleaner’s.  Good ol’ Dad.

Jamie looked handsome in his suit and tie, then he had to put on a funny gown and a flat hat.  He said he had to wear it to get his diploma.  Whatever that is!  I do know that afterwards, there was pizza (one of my favorites) and a good-smelling cake, which I knew to be chocolate and therefore didn’t get any.  I did get a couple of treats though, and I’d like to bark a big thank you to Laurel for coming to walk me and let me out of my crate on the big day.  Woof!

(Is anyone else having problems with photos not uploading?  I’ve been trying to get this photo of Jamie, just after he received his diploma, to load, and it’s not doing anything.)

Congratulations, Jamie and the Class of 2014!  I predict a pawsitively bright future for you!

Woof!  Love, Maggie

 

4/17/14 Sir Topham Hatt

When Jamie was a young pup, he used to love the Thomas The Tank Engine stories that Mom read to him out of a big book (by Rev. W. Awdry).  One of the characters, the Controller of the Railway, was Sir Topham Hatt.  Sir Topham Hatt kept things running smoothly and on time, and the best compliment he could pay his engines was that they were Really Useful Engines.  The old series focused on manners, and doing the right thing because it was the right thing to do.  Jamie was very influenced by this and is still one of the nicest, most polite young humans that I know.

Fast forward nearly a decade, and Jamie has made his Confirmation and received some money.  He decided to buy something special with it:  a top hat.

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The hat is a wool felt, Steampunk top hat complete with gears, lacing, and a smooth, satiny lining.  Jamie waited patiently for it to be delivered.  He purchased the hat from Kenny K Hats through Amazon.com. 

Although I wish I could chew it up like I chewed up the duck, I know this is Jamie’s special personal property and I will respect it!

The duck, alas, did not fare too well:

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In fact, I’d say this duck was goosed!

Woof!  Love, Maggie 

2/9/14 Guest Blogger: Jamie

More snow, more not going outside, not doing much of anything except trying to steal shoes.  So I’m turning the blog over to Jamie, who writes the 10 things he loves about his school:

What I Love About My School

1.  Meeting people from every nation minus all the discrimination

2.  Jolly, happy, teachers; cool, awesome preachers

3.  Every lesson includes just a smidgen of religion

4.  Learning grammar to keep out of the slammer

5.  Fun lessons

6.  Tutoring sessions

7.  Extended day

8.  Happy Friday

9.  Spirit Night

10. Halloween Fright

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your love, support, and sacrifice for my education.  Thank you two for helping me go to school!  You guys are the greatest parents to walk this Earth!  Love, Jamie

*Maggie’s note:  Jamie just took the ACT Saturday.  He is 13 and in 8th grade.  We are all very proud of him.

Woof!  Love, Maggie

10/30/13 Off to Bootcamp

It was a dark and stormy night.  The car was packed with chew bones, rawhides, treats, and a two-week supply of food.  All that was left was to grab the blanket and leash Maggie.  “Damn,” I thought, “why did it have to rain tonight of all nights?”  Maggie was due to be dropped off at the training facility by 8:30 p.m., and it was already pitch-black outside.

Jamie took the red blanket, jagged with chewing at the corners, while I hooked Maggie to her prong collar.  Jamie carefully and tenderly placed the soft blanket in the trunk of the Fiat, as though it was fine china that he was afraid of breaking.  Maggie didn’t need much coaxing and jumped into the back seat of the little car, anticipating going for a ride with a wide smile and a tail-wag.

As I backed Zeus out of the garage, the rain began to fall in earnest; bucketing down from the inky sky so hard I thought the car would get dented for sure.  A few makeshift clouds scrabbled to take their place in front of the misty moon.

Jamie cut the music off as I tensed behind the wheel, gripping it firmly at the 10-and-2 position, trying to keep from getting washed into the empty lots that were, at one time, going to be a pasture for rescued horses.  Slipping unsteadily out onto the “busy street,” I drove through the rapidly-puddling water and tried to see where I was going.  Zeus’ wipers beat steadily as Jamie and I tried to remain cheerful.  “This is for the best,” I reassured Jamie halfheartedly.  “Maggie is going to socialize with other dogs, and re-learn her commands.  When she comes home, everything should be fine.”  In the bluish-green light of the streetlamps, my son’s face gleamed an upset pale.  He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.

We white-knuckled it all the way to the facility.  Maggie remained unconcerned, looking out the window at the torrent of water running down.  Even with the wipers going full-blast, I was only able to see where we were going by the rear lights of the SUV in front of us and the “cats eyes” that lined the sloppy thoroughfare.  By the time we pulled into the lot, I felt like I needed a drink, some migraine medicine, and a Xanax, not necessarily in that order.

We walked into the office and the overpowering smell of wet dog hair immediately hit us like a wave at the beach.  Jamie ran in the steady downpour back and forth to the car, unloading supplies, while I held on to Maggie (who was behaving nicely) and filled out paperwork.  I was notified of which trainer would be taking Maggie home and given a cell number.  Then, all too soon, capable hands took the lead out of mine and Maggie walked away to be with the other dogs.  Maggie was excited and hardly gave us a backwards glance.  I was glad it seemed easy on her for now.

We squelched back to the car, not really caring about the rain anymore, and sat down dejectedly.  Jamie didn’t exactly cry, but he did sniffle once or twice.  I reached over and squeezed his hand.  He squeezed back.  Hard.

The ride home was much the same, except for the gnawing, burning, acidic pain in my stomach, and the stone-silence of my sad-faced son.

Jim took the events of the evening in stride when he came home from work. “She’ll come back and be a better-behaved dog,” he told us, with assurance.  I looked at him.  Jamie looked down at his plate and didn’t say a word.

I went to bed, patting my mattress, looking for the white dog snuggled beneath the down comforter.  But she wasn’t there.  My hands reached out automatically, looking for her this morning; patting, patting, patting the emptiness.

In my heart, I know that Maggie is in the best of hands, receiving the best of care, and this was the right thing to do.  But still, we grieve at her absence, and hope and pray that bootcamp works.

 

 

 

9/15/13 Through Sickness and In Health…

I’ve never actually witnessed Mom getting a migraine until today.  I guess that’s good, considering I’ve been living here since May.  At 6:00 a.m. Human Standard Time, Mom crawled out of bed and groped her way to the bathroom.  I won’t go into details, but I found her on all fours sweating, shaking, and doing what I usually do on the carpet (not pooping).  I stayed with Mom and licked some sweat off her brow.  She took some medicine and went back to bed, but the migraine did not crack for seven human hours.

Jamie ran back and forth, fetching Gatorade, cold washcloths, and fluffing pillows.  I stayed next to Mom the entire time; I didn’t even leave to get up to go to out.  I stayed with Mom until she stopped shaking and heaving and sweating.  When she was better (she says the roots of her hair still hurt a bit) and got up to go to the kitchen, I ran outside.  Then I came back in to see if she would give me a scrap of her dry white toast (Elwood Blues style).  She did.  It was better than the tortilla the other day.

Dogs love you unconditionally, in sickness and in health.  Pitbulls are known as the “nanny dog” and I think I know why.  I can’t explain it, but I wouldn’t have left Mom’s side for anything while she was sick.  Mom says if it wasn’t for Jamie and me, she’d have had to go to the hospital.  It’s been exhausting taking care of her!  But I’d do it again.

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And now time for a well-deserved rest!  Woof!  

Love, Maggie the Nurse Dog