...And in the air, the fireflies, our only light in paradise. We'll show the world that they were wrong, and teach them all to sing along; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive...

- Nickelback, If Everyone Cared

For All The Right Reasons Album

And I'm singing Aaa-ayyy-men, I'm alive!

William Leonidas November 12th, 2009
My only regret is that I cried so many tears while I waited for you.

"...I'll try ~ but it's so hard to believe. I'll try ~ but I can't see what you see. I'll try and try to understand the distance between the love I feel ~ the thing I fear ~ and every single dream. I can finally see it. Now I have to believe all those precious stories. All the world is made of faith ~ and trust ~ and pixie dust. So I'll try ~ because I finally believe. I'll try ~ because I can see what you see. I'll try, I'll try ~ to fly..."

Jonatha Brooke "I'll try"

Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Isaiah 41:10

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you..." Jeremiah 1:4-5

For Thou didst form my inward parts; Thou didst weave me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to Thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Thy works, and my soul knows it very well. Psalms 139:13-14

Monday March 5th, 2010

So Why Stinkerie?

It's simple, really. It's the first thing I whispered against my newborn little Dumpling's temple as I held him alone for that very first time. "There's my Little Stinkerie." And all was right with the world as I brushed my lips across his delicate dewy soft newborn-pink skin and sniffed at his sparse smattering of downy soft hair. Corny and sappy, huh? I can't help it when describing my new Little Puppy. But don't get used to it - I have been told I am "irreverent."

Anyway, it just came out and he's been Stinkerie ever since. As well as Stink Pie, Stink Pot, Stinkey Pete, Little Stinks, Stinks, Puppy, Ducky, Baby, Baby Head, Baby Head Jenkins, Jack, Jack-Jack, Jackie Boy, Jax, Snork, Snorkis, Snorkle, Billy Boy, Billy Bob, Bobby Sue, Billy-Joe-Jim-Bob, Will, Willie, Willister, and the name given by my mentor turned friend Beth - Snake. When I write to her I call him either The Snakester or Slither! And of course, Dumpling, because he is my Little Dumpling - warm and soft and comforting. It's alright to combine comfort food with baby names, right? Have you ever watched the movie Where the Heart Is? If you have, you'll know why I mention this in my defense!

Long story short, you're likely to encounter any one or more of these names in a single post. Because I can. It's my blog!

Something to Consider

Bad decisions make good stories.

Something to Think About

With any pregnancy, there are concerns. With any child, there are worries. When you have a diagnosis of Down syndrome, you know what to worry about. You know what to look for. You have a plan of action. With your typical child, there is no limit to the things that can 'go wrong' or 'happen.' There's no place to focus your worry and concerns. 'IT' will always be out there, waiting. You'll always be on guard. Even when the child is 55 and has grandchildren. With Down syndrome we have a battle plan. With Down syndrome, there is a finite number of things that can go awry. With a typical child, there's isn't. It's a crap shoot. I'm sticking with the Ds and taking the other two back to the hospital for a refund.

Head Above Water

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Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Like I Need Another Hole in the Head!

So...early this evening my neighbor Lynn dropped by. "Is your husband home? Someone left that mangy dog that's been running wild tethered on my porch and I want to know if he can get the dog. I went over to B's house but her husband isn't home yet. I'm afraid the dog will bite me." So, enter The Beloved to the rescue. And what we see at Lynn's house is indeed the mangy little black beaten with the ugly stick dog that has been harassing dog walkers all around the neighborhood for the last two weeks. And someone has indeed attached a leash and collar to him and weighed down the other end of the leash with one of the 40lb bags of dog food that Lynn always has on her front porch. So, The Beloved approaches and the poor little doggy shrank away, trembling hard enough that he could have fallen apart.

Now, one of the many talents The Beloved has is that of dog whisperer. Within seconds, the mangy little mutt was curled up into The Beloveds squatted down hulking form, which I gotta say, bare chested and muscled, is still a sight to see. And then The Beloveds gentle and comforting voice turned icy. "Oh my God. Feel his hips. He's skin and bones." He started touching the dog all over and then turned back on the velvet voice when the poor little mutt sensed his tension. "He's just a puppy. Who would do this to a puppy? Damn, this makes me sick." I've known The Beloved for more than half my life. (We met in high school, but that's another story.) He's rescued more mangy mutts that I can count. He tries to find them homes, but truth be told, once The Beloved takes charge, the mutt in question has a home one way or another. Usually another. One such down trodden dog was spied walking in the gutter in the middle of the night in a down pour. The Beloved had worked really late that night and had initially driven past her because he was exhausted and wanted to get home. But he went back for her, spent 20 minutes trying to find her, took her home, dried her off, fed her and gave her a warm bed. Then he went upstairs to drop his tired self into bed. In the middle of the night, his other dogs were barking and whining and raising the roof. So, down the stairs The Beloved goes to find the rescue dog whelping. Seven puppies. She'd found her new home just in time. She eventually was given the name of Dusty and she lived to a ripe old age under the same roof that she bore her puppies. That was long before 'us' but the story still makes my teary.

Miss B and I are speculating that the dog was dumped on Lynn's porch because it's a well known fact that she carries around dog food and bottled water in her car, along with paper bowls, for found strays. And, right on cue, Lynn produced the zip lock bag of dog food from her car and poured some in a china bowl for the dog. (I gotta say, Lynn has had a beautiful set of china sitting on her porch for at least three years. I eye it every time I go to her house. But again, that's another story.) The pup approached the bowl but then hunkered down like it was going to be beaten. With encouragement from The Beloved, he finally started eating and then woofed it down. And then he got interested in the water she'd put in another china bowl.

So, here we are. We already have three big dogs. Three big kennels doubling as end tables in the living room. At least this one is little and won't eat much. "Should we take him home?" I whisper to The Beloved. Where would we put him? I say we could put him in the garage until we figure out what to do with him. He'll need to see a vet. I say I'm going back to work soon. I know from experience the he would have objected immediately if he hadn't been thinking the same thing. Well, I'll leave it up to you. We can always try to find a home for him later. (Yeah...that will happen!) I'm taking Baby Head home before he gets cold. And he retrieved the happy Little Squee from the arms of our neighbor B, whom he'd been charming while we all talked about the dog, and he went home, taking said Squee. And I followed a few minutes later with the mangy little black beaten with the ugly stick mutt. Poor puppy. But at least I now have two of the china bowls! "Take these so he'll know these are his bowls," Lynn said. I'll have to borrow someones dog and tie it to Lynn's porch...I want that gravy boat!

Needless to say, the dog never saw the garage. We kept him leashed to a chair in the dining room until we knew he could whine to go out. The Middle Little immediately dubbed him Charlie and The Girlie wants to call him Puppy Paws. We fed him small amounts of food and water throughout the evening. The kids took him out frequently to play in the back yard with him. Together with the back door rug, he was a happy camper. Then came another ring of the doorbell. Lynn was standing there with a little boy. She'd thought the people behind her house belonged to the dog. Nope. But they did direct her the people in the house on the other corner who did belong to the dog. And Lynn being Lynn, she marched over there to confront them on the near dead condition of their dog. The little boy with her said he wanted his dog back. Lynn said, "I'll take you to the family that has him. It's up to them if they give your dog back or not." And I heard the little boy out. He was tearful when I said I wouldn't give the dog back because he was clearly starved. The little boy said, "But he won't eat what we give him." Really? Lynn had given him Pedigree and he gobbled it up. We're buying Wal-mart dog food until I get back to work, and you can't get any cheaper than Wal-mart dog food. He'd gobbled up the Wally world food just as happily as the Pedigree. I tell the little boy to wait and I go tell The Beloved what the kid has to say. He has one word. "No!" Okay then.

A few minutes later, again with the doorbell. The little boy brought his mother. She was wearing boy-shorts panties out in public and the "teeny-weeny-little-tee"* with an ample muffin top jiggling to the beat between the two swatches of str-e-t-ched fabric. Hot pink. I tell her what I told the little boy. The dog has clearly been starved and his hip bones are sticking out and I will not give the dog back to them. She says she'll call the po-lice. I tell her that I'll be waiting. I flip on the porch light and suggest she note our address. "Oh I done memorized the address. I'm going to call the po-lice." And she called me a bitch. "Well, bitch or not, I'll be more than happy to let the Sheriffs see the condition of that dog and let them decide if I should give him back to you or not." She called me a few more choice names and left, the junk in the trunk keeping tempo with the muffin top.

The Sheriffs never came. In the morning I called animal control, explained the situation and asked their advice. They said I could keep the dog or surrender him to them. Next I called the Sheriffs and explained it all again. They'd gotten zero calls about this issue last night. None. I think the mom took to heart what I said about letting the Sheriffs see the condition of the dog and thought better of it. The next call was to our vet. He said since the dog hadn't thrown up what he'd eaten, he'd probably be fine. Just keep feeding frequent small amounts of food and water. If he doesn't have a poop within two days, bring him in, otherwise just bring him in when you decide if you're keeping him. I said to the dog, "This is your lucky day, Puppy Head." And he responded by getting playful. So I had to go shopping.

Pillow........$ 2.50
Doggy Toys....$ 3.00
Puppy Treats..$ 1.50
Tax...........$ 3.89
Happy Pup.....Priceless.
You can see one of his shiny little eyes in this pic.
And he likes his kennel! By evening he was retreating to his kennel when he got tired of playing. I felt really bad telling the little boy that he wasn't getting his dog back, but the poor pup is ridiculously thin and his spine, ribs and hip bones STICK OUT! We were afraid we'd made him sick or kill him by letting him have food. He's that thin. But he pooped this morning, so no trip to the vet just yet. Soon, though. I just hope they don't get another dog to do this to. I plan to start walking The Girls past their house at least once every week to see if I hear barking from their yard. And tomorrow, Puppy Head is getting a much needed bath!

*P!NK Stupid Girls


Kaitie Jane said...

Hahaha I can totally visualize this entire scene in my head!!!! lol So what is the official name? Hope I can see him when I return in the fall =)

Anonymous said...

Good for you! Love it! Bless you for taking care of the poor little thing!

Tracy said...

His name will be Pound Puppy if he raises his leg on my couch again!