I find myself yelling these words again and again these days. Hula Hoop is no longer the quiet, calm, exhausted, worm-addled, nursing mama dog. Now, she is full-on puppy.
In the past week, she’s eaten my running gloves (luckily they went right through – eww, definitely shopping for a new pair), devoured the faux-fur edge of one of my slippers, continued the assault on my dog-walking shoes begun by John Jacob (see picture), and Continue reading Hey, That’s Enough, Settle Down!
It was weird. Frankie was so bored he managed to get Gracie to (sort of) play with him and he even went on a short run with me.
Reports are that both Oreo and Dixie are being loved and spoiled in their new homes. AND each of them has their own little boy. Pretty cool. This makes me beyond happy. It’s what this whole gig is all about.
Just about the time I get tired of so much poop so many kisses, the puppies take off for their forever homes. All eight have forever families waiting to adopt them this weekend. If all goes as planned, I’ll be scrubbing out an empty puppy pen by Sunday afternoon.
The puppies had quite a few final adventures this week. They were visited and loved upon by a group of girl scouts on Sunday afternoon. It was a win-win. The pups were helping the girls fulfill some badge requirements, and the girls were helping to wear out the pups in preparation for their microchipping.
So, I’ve made a decision. And the puppies have been very helpful in my decision-making process.
All kinds of people have been visiting, trooping into our house, sitting on a couch or floor with a puppy in their lap. For me, a solitary writer, this is a welcome break. The puppies also love it and need the socialization.
But the dogs in this house find visitors stressful. I had hoped that Oreo’s calm happy state would rub off on Frankie and Gracie, but it seems to be the reverse. As more people come to visit, Oreo is more stressed. He’s been a perfect gentleman, but it’s clear he would prefer a quieter home.
I think if the other two didn’t react to a new car in the driveway as a potential terrorist attack, he wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Unlike my other two, I’m pretty sure Oreo would adjust to this if I asked him too, but I don’t want to ask him to.
My heart is so full this morning that tears seem to turn up on my face without warning.
Sunday night was the official ‘end’ of my tour, although there are still a bunch of events this month and I’m hoping to get more opportunities to talk about the book, its purpose, shelter dogs and how we can all make a difference. (So feel free to toss my name/contact in any direction you want!)
My last event was sponsored by an awesome person, Karen Johnson and Paws Go. She designs and sells fabulous t-shirts and gives away much of what she makes to dog-related causes. During August and September that cause was OPH.
Sunday night, Karen hosted a book signing for me at Nectar Wine & Coffee Bar in Alexandria, an adorable little spot with great VA wine selections and amazing food. Rooney came to sign along with me (thanks Lauren!).
I’ve been kicking around ideas for this post—lots to say, not enough space (the usual for me).
My thoughts are scattered because part of me is in North Carolina worrying about the dogs at the three shelters we visited who were all evacuated. I know they’re confused and frightened, but so far, at least, I know they are safe.
In a news story about the Anson shelter, I saw footage of several of the dogs I met – Oreo (who is coming to my home at the end of the month), the Great Dane that Lisa and I flirted with (whose destiny is uncertain), Sparky (the shy, adorable pit mix with bandit eyes that Lisa coaxed out to say hello to us), and a large gray pitbull whose sad face I’ve been carrying around with me ever since I met him. Of all the dogs we met, his eyes seemed to sear my soul – the depth of sadness and the resignation broke my heart.
Seeing those friends crammed in crates and stacked in a van, while the people around them talked in panicked voices and the flood water closed in on them was unbearable. I want to be down there, doing something, and yet again, Continue reading Am I Becoming a Broken Record?