EARLY SUNDAY MORNING...

Smooch, the Hang-dog look

It was 4 AM when I heard him come to my bedroom. I knew it was the pup – he has a very distinctive walk; it sounds like he is shuffling along the floor in slippers. I lifted my head and, sure enough, he was standing in the entrance, watching expectantly. It crossed my mind that he would go back to his couch if I insisted, but I’d probably have to clean up if I didn’t let him out now. His tail wagged slowly when I crawled out of bed.

“You couldn’t hold it for a couple of hours?’ I scolded him sleepily. The tail wagged a little faster. Being Smooch, he didn’t move as I approached him. The older pit, Grump, would have run ahead to the door already, and would wait there for his human to arrive. For some reason, Smooch always forces you go around him, then practically trips you up by leaning into your legs as he walks along beside you. It’s as if he craves the contact. I’ve tried to break him of the habit, but so far any method used hasn’t succeeded. I literally stumbled to the kitchen, holding myself steady by keeping a hand on the wall to counteract his now 90 pound weight.

We made it without mishap, and I opened the door. His nose crossed the threshold ...and he stopped. Telling him to go, then firmly shoving with my foot ... he wouldn’t budge. Neither was he fooled into following me when I reluctantly stepped outside. Br-r-r! My coaxing from there didn’t last long – bare feet and summer pj’s are not ideal wear in this sudden onslaught of frigid mountain air! I jumped back into the house, and the stubborn dog was still standing in the same place. I couldn’t shut the door.

“Move your head or lose it!” My tone told him I wasn’t kidding, and he retreated out of the way, rolling his eyes up in a woebegone expression. He has it down to perfection. You know the one – the hush puppy ‘hang-dog’ soulful gaze that can make you feel so-o-o guilty! He was still wearing it as he followed my pointing finger to his couch and slowly climbed up onto it. I couldn’t help but smile at the loud, long-suffering sigh he emitted when he realized that I was going back to bed. He’s still a puppy; I have to remember that, I mused silently.

Ha! The ‘puppy’ left a horse-sized puddle on the floor before the hour was over. .. of course I stepped in it! He had needed to go, but Monsieur didn’t care for the cold?? Now he had two strikes against him, waking me early then wetting the floor, and it was not even daylight yet!!

He kept his head down, as well he should. Only his eyes moved as I soaked up the excess with half a roll of paper towel, then dug out the mop and pail, grumbling without stop. They say it’s not productive to scold a dog after the fact. Well, ‘they’ were not forced to wash the floor at 5 AM; it was me doing that! Although I didn’t actually speak directly TO him, I couldn’t help throwing dirty glances as I completed the job. Without a doubt he knew he was on the sh*t list.

Who really knows how a dog thinks?

Ten minutes later I was sitting at my desk, sipping coffee and reading e-mails, and I heard him come down the hall. Ever so slowly he shuffled over and put his head on my lap. Without saying a word, I stood up and once more we walked together to the kitchen door. I opened it. He started out, stopped, looked up at me for a moment, then kept going. I closed the door behind him and waited. He stood still, sniffing the air. I saw the shiver run over his body, then he sat down on the spot where he was, and craned his head around to look back at me through the glass before turning away to stare into the dark. When I returned 5 minutes later he was still in the same place, holding the same position, and I watched as he shivered again. Obviously he had not needed to pee, so what was the point of this exercise?

When he heard the door open, he moved quickly to come back inside. Halfway in he stopped and shoved his wet nose in my hand, doing the Smooch-thing, leaning against me, transmitting all the love there is in that gangly, puppy body. In spite of the cold, we stood there for a special moment; the forgiver and the forgiven.

Was I the former or the latter in this pup’s mind? I realized that it didn’t really matter, and I SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

STILL KICKING!

Don't be fooled - this was a 5 minute time-out!

Wow! It’s hard to believe that August 27th was my last post. It seems I turn around twice and the day has gone by, then another...then another. Somebody is sneaking in here and stealing my time....or maybe the ‘twice’ is only an illusion, when I’m actually spinning like a top.

All is well on the home front. My two oldest rug rats have started school, and both of them like it, so that’s a bonus. Even the youngest is doing better at daycare, probably because his older brother is no longer there to torment the little dude. Brothers do tend to do that, don’t they?

Bali, his first day of school. So excited that he put his shoes on the wrong feet!


With three energetic young lads and two lively pit-bulls in permanent residence, this house rocks!! It starts around 5:30 in the morning and lasts until at least 9 PM; at which hour Mémere picks her tongue up from where it’s dragging on the floor, rams it back into her mouth, and searches for her wits. I’m loving every minute of it!!

Although I have been lax in my own posting, I have been reading others, so have sort of been keeping up on the doings of you all. I was worried that Blogit wasn’t paying because I hadn’t been commenting but I checked it out, and it’s reading the page that attributes my pittance to the writer. Leaving comments is better, of course, but it made me feel less guilty knowing that the pennies were still being distributed.

It’s 2:30 AM now, so I’ll pack it in and go to bed. The rug rats are with Mommy on the week-end, perfect to catch up on some sleep before the bigger cleaning fury tomorrow morning. I also need to find some flowers and plant them outside, for however short their duration will be. The boys and I have been searching for fairies under the leaves and in the bushes, but there are none to be found. Nalou, the 7 year old, remarked that maybe the lack of pretty flowers is the reason; fairies love beautiful colors, and the morning dew from a bright petal is much sweeter than that sipped from a simple green leaf. He suggested (strongly) that I could take care of this detail during his two day absence. I reminded him (just as strongly) that his behaviour had to be exemplary all day or the fairies would stay hidden anyway. He assured me that it would be, but I can’t help but wonder if those assurances stemmed from his thinking that whatever he did while with his Mommy would have no bearing with the fairies here....

So there you are. I’m still alive and kicking and enjoying my house full of children and doggies. This place has become a 24-hour SMILE factory!! Smooch chewed all my ribbons, so I’ve tied a few with string and am sending the brightest out to y’all now! They may be slightly damp from sticky kisses and puppy slobber...but they’re as warm as a SMILE can be!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

GOOD OLD GOLDEN RULE DAYS....

All of a sudden I am thrown back in time. The hustle and bustle of ‘return to school’ preparations were part of my life so many years ago; then my children graduated, were into the work force, and the first days of September of each year only meant long, meandering walks to admire the changing leaves and enjoy the crisp autumn air. I seem to have come full circle, LOL!

Two of my three rug rats will be in school this year; the oldest in grade 2, and the mighty Bali entering kindergarten. It means preparing breakfasts early in the morning, making lunches, verifying that each has what is needed for the day, then brushing teeth and getting dressed and out the door to make it to class in time. Evenings will become the eternal arguments of homework vs television or play, watching that the toddler rug rat doesn’t scribble on said homework, the baths, and the repeated ‘Go to sleep! You’ve got school in the morning’.

The boys will also be registered for skating lessons, an extra-curricular activity involving a race against the clock on Thursday evenings, and a blocked Sunday afternoon. With the parents working shifts, and Mommy not much into outside activities anyhow, Mémère will be shouldering part of this responsibility. My son and I discussed it, and we have agreed that these kinds of things are too important to leave aside. Every Canadian child should have the opportunity to decide if he does or does not enjoy skating.

An extra calendar has been hung in the kitchen; notes will be made for school meetings, deadlines, appointments and hopefully, but not likely, we’ll remember everything. There’ll be the Halloween costumes to get together, birthday parties to attend, and the Christmas pageant to practice, not forgetting the boxes of chocolate bars that must be sold to pay for special school outings. Along with this there is the baby – distracting him when he can’t follow his older brothers everywhere, making sure he doesn’t fall down the stands he’ll be sure to climb in the arena, and the potty training which, from previous experience with my own children, he’ll get the hang of just when we’re all dressed in winter suits and on the way out the door to something for which we’re already running late.

Late last evening, under moon and stars, my son and I stood on the gallery, sharing a beer, watching the doggies as they played down in the yard, absorbing the intoxicating silence of the bush. Mommy had picked up the boys at 7 PM. They have spent 90% of their time with us since the separation 6 weeks ago, so this quiet break was welcome. My son ruffled my hair and asked his daily question. “You okay, Mum? Not finding it too hard?”

“So far, so good,” I laughed.

Nothing was said for a moment, but it was obvious that this child of mine, who is so much like his mother, was also thinking of the weeks ahead when he added wryly. “And the best is yet to come.”

“Hmmm. Yes.” I answered. “I’ve doubled up on my vitamins.”

His hug was warm, and we both SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

THE VISIT

Each day will bring you a new experience; some of them normal, some totally unexpected. My yesterday fell into the latter category.

I hadn’t been up long when the dogs' wild barking warned me there was a stranger in the yard. Still in pyjamas, hair uncombed, and slightly groggy from the cold medicine ingested the night before, I went out onto the gallery to see who was there.

Every parent’s heart will skip a beat when a police car shows up in his/her yard, and there were two of them parked in mine! Each of my children, then my grandchildren, spun though my thoughts...an edge of panic had me wide awake now.

The cars were empty, and I couldn’t see the officers anywhere. I had left my garage door wide open to air the place out, and I wondered if they had entered by there and were coming up the stairs in the front. The dogs were making such a ruckus! I hushed them sharply, and it was only when they shut it down that I heard someone calling. I peered out and under the balcony where the entry to my grandson’s apartment is found. A female Agent was looking up at me, and right behind her was second uniform, a male.

“What kind of dogs do you have?” she was asking.

What??

On hearing the voice, Grump and Smooch started up again, racing along the gallery, trying to find a way down. It took a minute to silence them, and during that time I realized that from where she was standing the Agent couldn’t get a good view of the noisy creatures, and she didn’t seem too interested in climbing closer. Her question wasn’t so dumb after all.

"They’re pits.” I answered her. Then with a touch of belligerence, “Why?”

It was with a mixture of relief and consternation that I listened to her explanation. This wasn’t about any of my loved ones being hurt, nor even about my dogs. It was about Sally, my neighbour’s Rottweiler, that had apparently bit a lady, and the police were following up on the complaint. I expressed my disbelief, telling them Sally was a good dog, kept mostly in her yard now because of her cancer. They knew the owner’s first name, and that there was a husky/wolf mix there too (Louka); in short, they had been to the neighbour’s house, but because no-one was home, they were not sure they had the right place, so moved on to visit me. Sending up a silent and grateful ‘Thank YOU!’ that my boys were blocked on my gallery when these Agents showed up,, I stated once again that Sally and Louka were never a problem, that the lady must have been trespassing, and ended the conversation there. The only other thing I said was to wonder aloud why they each had their own car, and this as they were getting into their vehicles.

“I was just in the area, so came along.” the male answered me.

Yeh, right, you sneaky buggers. I could tell he knew what I was thinking, but he owed me nothing more, of course. They rolled out of my lane, and I saw them turn into the neighbour’s driveway. I heard the thump of their car doors closing; then Sally barking from where she was locked inside the house.

I know Sally’s master will give me the follow-up – we watch out for each other’s dogs when we can. A plus - the Rot has had her rabies vaccination, so it should make negotiation easier. She is a sweet dog, though maybe a little grouchy since starting her chemo, but I still suspect that the lady was where she shouldn’t be if Sally really did bite her. I guess we all need to put up some ‘Beware of Dogs’ signs around our properties, if only for our own protection.

Grump and Smooch were overdue for their stroll outside, and were spinning around my feet, doing their best to remind me that I was being remiss in my duties. Because I never have them on a leash, I wanted to wait until the coast was clear.

“Hang on, guys,” I rubbed their heads, hugging each in turn, so happy that it wasn’t one of them who was in trouble. “We’ll wait until those nosy people are gone – then out we’ll go. How about a treat in the meantime?”

My words sent them scurrying to the kitchen counter; somehow they know where the treat bag is. They sat obediently. I doled out the marrow bones as promised and they gazed up at me, their faces full of doggie grin. With a heart full of admiration and love for these marvellous, funny, affectionate companions of mine, I grinned back at them.

If I could share just a part of their devotion with you, I would. Instead, I’ll share our SMILES!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

UGH!

We have been sick – the two youngest rug rats and me. Runny noses, fever, cough....that icky thing that you can do nothing about really except endure and wait it out. When my son mentioned not going into work, I told him there was no problem...I’ve done this before. Staying up with sick kids is a part of every mother’s life. Right. Except that was a few years ago, and I’m a grandmother now.

Wow – it was tough! There were l-o-o-n-g nights, with the baby waking up every other hour and crying because he felt so rough, and a granny feeling just as rough trying to comfort him. During the day the three of them were at home; no-one sends sick children to daycare. There wasn’t much sleep so we were all cranky....but we did survive.

Smooch wasn’t helping any – he was so fed up being restrained to the gallery, no matter how big it is. If anyone happened to let him in while the kids were still up he would be all over them, frightening in his intensity to play, jumping around to burn energy. This morning, after taking the younger rug rats to daycare (they were feeling better finally), my son and Nalou and I did the trip to the vet for stitch removal. That pup howled and lamented for the whole drive in, and it took someone as strong as my son to hold him during the short procedure. During the ride back home he lay on my knee, exhausted simply by his emotions, His first run outside was thrilling. We watched him go, laughing at his antics. His attitude changed immensely, thankfully!

Tonight my son left with the boys to spend a bit of time at his dad’s chalet, telling me to take a good dose of cold medicine and get some rest. Oh my, but yes! No matter how I miss them when they are not here, it was due! I’m heading off to bed immediately after I post this. It is not a moment too soon!

But we all made it – a hurdle passed – so we’re SMILING!!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.

DOGS & BOYS...AND SMILES

Nalou & Smooch - relaxation - the calm before the storm ;)


My ex-DIL called yesterday. She has known me for 10 years; she probably suspected what I would be thinking after that visit with her mom. She hastened to assure me that she finds the hassle of the separation much easier to deal with because it is evident that her children are happy and doing well. The oldest, who is 7 years old, proved the point by telling his Mommy that he wished she and Daddy would get together again, but not that they move back home. Instead he wants his Mommy to move in here with Mémère and Daddy. And that is the only approbation I need.

Meanwhile, back at the farm...Smooch has been doing very well these past weeks. He has learned to tread softly with the rug rats most of the time. When he begins to get excited, he will listen to the ‘down’ command, although I’m sure he still doesn’t understand why. The interaction between Smooch and the boys is always supervised by either me or my son. He is, after all, just a puppy, and not used to living with youngsters. I’m not worried about him being mean and trying to bite, but he is rambunctious and weighs 80 pounds now. That’s a lot of doggie to contend with when he barrels into you for play.

He was operated on last Tuesday, and the vet told me he should be quiet for a few days. She forgot to tell Smooch. He was no sooner out of the car than he wanted to horse around with Grump, completely oblivious of any pain he was supposed to be feeling. For the next 10 days, he is not allowed to run or jump for fear of opening his stitches. I can’t even tie him up on the lawn, because the stitches need to be kept free of dust or humidity. It means he is again shut up on the gallery for most of the day. The poor puppy is going crazy because of lack of exercise, and driving us crazy to boot. I have an endless supply of chew toys and rawhide sticks, but it still doesn’t prevent him from getting bored and gnawing on the wooden posts of the railings, or any wires he happens to find, or the corner of my French windows if they happen to be open. ARRRGH! Friday, the day scheduled for his vet visit, can’t arrive too soon!

I’m off to the city to see clients this morning. My son will pick up the rug rats either from day care this afternoon or, if the 2 youngest still have the cold, from their Mummy’s house later this morning. He has the next couple of days off, so the construction of the tree house will continue. I know Nalou is anticipating inviting some friends over to spend the night in sleeping bags out there; a big adventure, one that every child should live. Mémère has been practicing (in secret) her ghostly yowls; what’s the fun of spending the night in a tree house if there isn’t a big scare on?

After a day in the city, it has always been a pleasure to arrive home to the exuberant greeting of the doggies. The pleasure is more than tripled now – I also get a warm, hugging welcome from three little rug rats.

Life is good, and my SMILE is as big as that of Kabu’s Cheshire cat!! Lots of it to go around, folks – so sending it out to you!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec

MÉMÈRE VS MOMMY?

I saw the look exchanged between mother and daughter – a long one that speaks volumes without uttering a word. I don’t know what was behind it, although I can think of a least a dozen things. It put my teeth on edge, and if the boys hadn’t been with us, I probably would have asked which of the dozen things it was exactly. I didn’t like that look.

My son had left for work at 5:00 AM, and the rug rats were up within 10 minutes of his departure, Saturday or not! The agreement is that the boys live with us during the week, and spend the weekend with their Mom. It was her birthday yesterday, so she was celebrating last night, and advised that she would come for the boys only this morning. I agreed when my son asked me; anything I had planned could be put off until noon or so. When I hadn’t heard from her by 9:30, I decided to call her. She was waiting on her mother, she told me. The grandma in question wanted to see where I lived so that she could visit the boys now and then. I have no problem with that; she used to see them daily, and I can imagine how she misses them since the separation.

As a parent goes, my ex-DIL is very protective, like her mom was with her, and I am nearly the opposite. Her mom worried that there were no security gates to contain the baby, what about the stairs? No, he’s fine – watches where he’s going, I said. Follows the other two everywhere and I do keep an eye out.

The two youngest have slight colds; I was up as they coughed through the first night, the second day was better, and last night even more so. Just a bit of a cough now, a low grade fever, sniffles. I gave them lots of juice and water, spoons of honey and ginger for the cough, cool cloths when they were too warm, more down time than usual. They both ate good breakfasts this morning. I saw no need to use the pumps or Tylenol in the medicine bag, so didn’t. Fearing bronchitis, his Mommy medicated the little one before leaving. Oops!

There were a few other things – yes, the older boys roam the 3 acres outside on their own. They have been told where the boundaries are, and are expected to respect them. Daddy and the oldest already have the floor and ladder done for the tree house. Yes, it is high, but it’s a tree house.

The couple of red spots on the baby? Mosquito bites. He has been playing outside, picking wild raspberries and blackberries with Mémère and his brothers, shoving them into his mouth as fast as he can. He also jumped in the only puddle to be found in the whole lane, getting his shoes very wet. He beat his Mémère to it, but they enjoyed it together when she caught up to him.

Hmmm, that too; black soles because they run around most of the time barefoot. With 2 dogs, 3 rug rats and 2 adults, not counting visitors, plus the dust from the dirt road...and oh - I wouldn’t eat off the floors here unless you wash whatever falls on it first. It all comes off in the bath at night.

The list goes on.

I’ve been expecting some hassles, of course. Disputes happen in most separations, no matter how friendly the participants. I am also very aware that my methods are different than those of my DIL. Fortunately, we sincerely like each other, so I have no doubt that we’ll deal with it as time passes; either adjusting or accepting as needed.

One thing I know for certain – there was disapproval in that look. I was still stinging from it as I stood on the gallery with the doggies and waved goodbye to the rug rats.

“What do you think, guys?” I asked Smooch and Grump. “Is this old Mémère okay as a parent or not?” Probably happy with the sudden undivided attention, they both leaned against me, a sign they’re content.

“That’s what I thought!” I told them, and I SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec