#BtC4A: Dogs aren’t perfect… but neither are you

Blog the ChangeI’d be lying to you if I said that I knew what I wanted to write about for this edition of Blog the Change for Animals. However, I recently read a story that supplied the thesis* for today’s post. That thesis?

Don’t be an idiot.

(A secondary thesis? Don’t do things that make me roll my eyes. It makes my eyes hurt. I don’t like it when my eyes hurt.)

So, let’s get to it. The story that inspired today’s post sounds too stupid to be true. Our tale begins with the return of a dog named Misty to a high-kill shelter. Want to guess the reason? I bet you can’t.

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In my dreams, it’s still the same…

Have you ever had one of those dreams that made you furiously happy and deeply sad at the same time?

This past weekend, I had one of those dreams. In it, I was cleaning my house.  (Even in my dreams, I channel Monica Geller – at my house, you can eat cookies over the sink!) I opened the patio door to go into the backyard, and stepped out onto our deck. Suddenly, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see my beautiful Bella, the very picture of unbridled joy, her tongue hanging out as she raced towards me. I leaned down, just in time to catch her as she bounded into my arms.

One happy dog via wantmorepuppies.com

Happy tails to you…

I awoke to the feeling of her wagging tail and of holding her tight. Bella was always a wonderfully enthusiastic welcoming committee, and i always felt so loved when I returned home. I woke up feeling that love all around me.

It was the perfect reunion, and I felt a powerful sense of peace and happiness, accompanied by the sadness of knowing that we can only meet in my dreams. However, if it gets me a few more precious minutes with Bella, I’ll welcome all the dreams that come my way.

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Just one of those (important) days…

Two years ago today, this furry face joined our family. We adopted him from Friends of Homeless Animals, and the rest is history…

Gotcha Day! via wantmorepuppies.com

Happy Tavishversary!

Here’s to a snuggly dog that’s scared of his water bowl and of his own farts… but still struts around the neighborhood like he owns the place. (Bella taught him well. Following her example, he seems to believe that if he can see it, it belongs to him.)

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been two years. So much has changed since then… but not how awesome this little dude is. (He’s pretty darn awesome.)

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I’m getting mutton for Christmas

These past few weeks, I’ve found myself revisiting some of my favorite Bella memories. Remembering all of her wonderful quirks makes me smile, even if that smile is often (okay, always) through some tears. In any event, I thought I’d share a few of these as I try to get back into the blog.

Today’s tale has it all – mystery, comedy… and even MURDER.

It was a cold night. Presents were stacked under the unlit Christmas tree. In the corner of my mother-in-law’s living room, a ceramic assembly gathered around an empty crib, quietly awaiting the arrival of the porcelain Savior. Faux-human and faux-animal alike, they patiently kept watch, anticipating the moment that the giant hand would place the baby in the miniature manger.  Distracted by the imminent miracle, they failed to notice that one of their own was missing.

He wasn’t the fanciest sheep, nor the prettiest one. In fact, they never knew how he became a part of the flock. He was always there, but he was undeniably different. The leader of the flock accepted him without question, and the others followed like… well, like sheep. (Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em.)

That fateful night, the plastic sheep found himself separated from the ceramic flock. As he faced down the giant she-beast, he knew that he would not see the Nativity storage container ever again. Although she did not usually devour miniature figurines, his plastic scent was too much to resist that night.

Later, in the harsh light of Christmas morning, the crime scene revealed itself. Crumbs of plastic sheep littered the manger. It didn’t take a world-class detective to discover the culprit – after all, the small brown and white dog happily pooping out pieces of plastic sheep didn’t seem too ashamed of her heinous act.

Bella's Mugshot - wantmorepuppies.com

The face of a smooth criminal…

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Pupdate: I’m still here

Hello, my friends.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve written. I haven’t really felt all that much like blogging since I said goodbye to Bella. (Some days, I haven’t felt like doing much of anything.) However, please know that I read every single one of your comments on my last blog post. Your kind words touched my heart and meant a great deal to me during the past few weeks.

Bella kiss via wantmorepuppies.com

A smooch for a pooch.

I do plan to talk more about what we’ve been doing and how we’ve been adjusting here at Casa de I Still Want More Puppies. I want to give Bella a proper farewell on the blog as well, but I haven’t figured out what that means yet. How do I say goodbye? How do I celebrate her?

I was profoundly moved by the way that our friends at Kenzo the Hovawart and Will My Dog Hate Me said farewell to Viva and Frankie, respectively. I want to find an appropriate and meaningful way to say goodbye on this blog as well. I’m hoping that it will also help me as I navigate my way forward.

With that in mind, I’ll probably be playing it a bit by ear for a little while. I have some serious things on my mind (obviously), but I’m going to try to mix those in with regular blog posts, photos of Tavish (because his furry face is good for what ails me), and (if I can manage it) some humor. We’ll see how it goes as I ease back into this whole blogging thing. Stay tuned…

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The unbearable absence of Bella

This post is one I can’t believe I have to write. Today, our family said goodbye to Bella. We kissed this sweet face farewell, and life will never be the same.

Goodbye Bella

Goodnight, sweet pup.

We have been managing her kidney disease for over two years now, but – after a very difficult weekend – we had to face the reality that her condition had deteriorated rapidly in the past few days. It was time to let her go.

I don’t quite know what else to say. I find myself suffocated by her absence. Everywhere I look, I see where she is not. I’m not quite me without her.

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It’s a hard blog life, for us…

Instead of posting, I just sit. Instead of writing, my brain just quits. It’s a hard blog life.

Friends, it’s been too long. I wish I could tell you that I’ve been productive during my unintentional blogging hiatus.

via giphy.com

However, while I did manage to take a real vacation (woohoo!) and attend a surprise anniversary party for my in-laws, I can’t say that I’ve been a paragon of productivity. (Although I do have a few canine capers to share with you in the coming weeks.) Continue reading

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Nic Cage’s Easter advice: Put the bunny idea back in the box

Blog the Change

Okay, users of the Internet… it’s time for some real talk. I know that Easter is right around the corner. Your head is filled with visions of adorable bunnies (or chicks and ducks, depending on what your particular brand of cute catnip is – the post below is applicable to all categories). You’re tempted to bring one home.

I get it. They’re cute. They’re cuddly. They win first prize every single year in the Cutest Way to Eat Lettuce Contest.

via giphy.com

As the proud aunt to several bunny nieces and nephews, I’m not immune to their charms. However, I’m going to give it to you straight. If you’re thinking of bringing home a baby bunny for Easter, stop.

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If I’m ever in charge of math, we’re all in big trouble

On Monday, I told you about the blog’s upcoming birthday, and how I’d almost forgotten about it. Today, I realized that not only did I almost forget the blog’s birthday… I also prematurely pushed it into middle age.

Remember how I said that the blog was turning five?

Um, yeah. This thing started on April 9, 2010. That was only four years ago. I always knew that math wasn’t my strong suit, but apparently basic counting is out of my depth as well.

It’s like that whole 500th post fiasco all over again.

That’s it. I’m not allowed to do math anymore without a chaperone. I can’t be trusted.

Dog math via wantmorepuppies.com

I should have seen this coming when I hired a dog to handle the books. (That’s not even a ledger – it’s a bunch of Mad Libs.)

As a result, I’m also afraid to ever acknowledge a milestone on the blog again. It’s my own special brand of PTSD (Poorly Trumpeting Stuff Disorder).

I really can’t believe it happened again. Um… so how about we return to your regularly scheduled installment of Caption this Dog (see photo above) and pretend this whole thing never happened?

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