Shhhhhhhhhhhh…..

He’s not supposed to be on the bed!

Meet Truman.
I have declared myself his “surrogate Mom”.

Truman’s real Mom Michelle, is a school nurse who spends her days saving our Catholic youth from H1N1. Truman now spends his day with me, effortlessly soothing my pain from the loss of Tucker.

We know that somewhere out there is a dog who will bring another decade or so of joy to this family; we look forward to the day he (or she) shows up. But until then, we have Truman.

He has many of the same mannerisms as Tucker did. You see him and your heart just automatically sings… “Dum-da-dum-da-dum”.

Mikey and I went to dinner last night, just the two of us. He told me “We need to experience absolute pain to know absolute joy. We need one to contrast the other."

We have known both on many different levels. And I would never give one up at the cost of diluting the other.

Mikey is a wise, wise man.

Thump, thump...

Thump, thump, thump.

Tucker wagged his magical tail one last time a few moments ago.
He was held by me and Mike, Jordie and Nick.

We couldn’t have loved him more.

Lothlorien Tucker Baker
6-12-99 - 8-25-09

One Love, One Heart

Let’s get together and feel alright.
(Written and performed by Bob Marley)

She was supposed to be named Bob, after Bob Marley.
She was just 6 weeks old when we brought her home.
Mike and I were newly married and still high from our Jamaican honeymoon.
Reggae music was in our hearts.

Mike resisted getting another dog; we already had Nubi at home, our first golden retriever.
But this pup claimed Mikey’s heart and it was he who named her Ziggy, after Bob Marley’s son.
The name suited her well.

Harmonically, Reggae music is often very simple, and sometimes a whole song will have no more than one or two chords.
Ziggy was simple that way too; in her almost 16 years, she never once went to the vet other than her yearly shots and checkup.

Her strongest trait was loyalty.
When I was pregnant with the kids, she would lie across my belly and protect them.
One day during my first pregnancy, she lay on my belly and whimpered.
She knew before I did, that our baby didn’t make it.
Ziggy never left my side for days after that.

Jordie and Nick have never known life without Ziggy.
Today they start that journey.
Mike and I took her in this morning, when it was clear she could not go on in her deteriorated state.
It was a peaceful transition from life to death for Ziggy; painful beyond words for Mike and I.

Life was good to Ziggy,
Ziggy was good to us.
Now she is in heaven with all of her “Rasta-Furry-an” friends.

We miss you Ziggs.

“I Moved It”

Let me first go on record and say, “I am half-assed”.
My mother used to call me the “half-assed kid”.
If there is an easy way to do it, believe me, I find it.
So it comes as no surprise that at least one of our kids takes after me.

This fact is the very bain of Mike’s existence.
“Mr. Focus, finish, follow-through” is exasperated by us half-ass types.
We really piss him off.
He has long ago given up on me, (As Popeye wisely says, “I am what I am”) but he continues to hold out hope for Nicholas to change his lazy-ass ways.

False hope is my guess.

Yesterday, Mike came home and immediately noticed something that I too had seen a few hours earlier.
Because of my half-assed nature, I simply thought to myself, “Hmmm, that’s gonna piss Mikey off” and went on about my day.

Tucker, (rhymes with) apparently shares the same half-assedness gene that Nick and I have been blessed with.
He has recently stopped “doing his business” in the yard.
Perhaps the grass tickles his feet, I don’t pretend to know, but whatever the reason, the dog is now taking a King sized crap right on the patio!

Stop for a moment and just try to imagine Mike’s reaction to this little ditty, (doodie?).
The whole house shook as he yelled, “NICHOLAS… “Get a plastic bag and get that crap off my patio, NOW.”
The kid’s take turns each week with dog duty/(doodie) and this week is Nicks.
Something tells me next week will be his too now.

A few minutes later, we see Nick putting “the plastic bag” into our kitchen trash can.
In Mikey’s big boy voice, I hear not just “No”, but “Hell No! What are you thinking, putting a bag of dog crap in the trash INSIDE the house?”
Looking at Mike like he’s got two heads, Nicholas says “it’s just an empty bag”, (as in “Chill dude”).
“Why is it empty Nick, where is the dog crap?” (A logical question by Mike I’m thinking at the time.)
“I moved it”.

Oh boy.
This is gonna get ugly.

“Moved it?”
“Moved it where?”

Being half-assed myself, I knew where this was going.
At this point, I’m willing Nick with all I’ve got NOT to say what I think he’s getting ready to say.
Even I, the Queen of half-ass, could never reach this level of half-assedness.

“I moved it onto the grass” said the boy formerly known as Mike’s son.

Stunned silence followed.
Albeit momentarily.

The rest of the story is somewhat of a blur.
Suffice it to say, “The shit hit the fan”.
The backyard is so clean right now you could eat off of it.

I just feel sorry for the trash men tomorrow…
They’ll be pulling “double doodie”!!!

As for Nicky…he is what he is!