If you're ever feeling down and you want a quick pick me up, head over to your local drugstore and peruse the card aisle. While many cards can make you cringe with their soppy message or wrinkle your nose in disgust, there are always a few gems that make you laugh or at the very least smile. My favorite card of the day was too inappropriate to take a picture of, but it featured a rather hairy gentleman in a pair of very short shorts with a caption that read, "Yes, there are worse things than another birthday."
My second favorite card was this:
I have the helmet so I figure I am halfway there.
If you have read any of my prior posts, you are aware that we have a new addition here...well, a three/four weeks old addition at this point. Overall, Marin is settling well. She sleeps like a dream, has a big personality for a little body, and makes me more graceful because I have to watch my step.
At the time we were contemplating taking on little Marin, I said those fateful words...those words that make the Universe giggle and provide foreshadowing to the story that is my life.,
"She's so tiny. We probably won't even see her half the time. How much trouble could she be?"
<Universe laughing and rolling on the ground.>
I generally consider myself a well-adjusted human being. My moods travel up and down but stay more up than down (except in February). If I can fit the three W's into my day...working, walking, and writing...my day has been a success. My dogs fit seamlessly into my day, and we have a lovely pattern and flow.
Until we got Marin. Then, I added a new W - worrying.
My mom used to wonder aloud why my dad spent so much time messing around with their chihuahua's dinner. Human food cunningly nestled amongst healthy dog food designed to create a spark of appetite in their fussy dog was my dad's light obsession. Watching my dad in his food prep efforts, I would stand back and affectionately smile...thinking how sweet it was that Sammy was such a hobby for him, but wouldn't it be nice if he had some other hobbies.
Then I got Marin.
Are you following the direction of this post?
Lizzie and Minnie, our two other dogs, will wolf their breakfasts and dinners down without so much as breathing. Lizzie especially loves to be lightning-fast so she doesn't miss the opportunity to partake of any extra bits from anyone else simultaneously eating.
Not so Marin.
This is what I have discovered about Marin. She will not eat at the same early hours as our other dogs. She does a morning poop around 8 or 9, and then she is ready for breakfast. She does not enjoy the same canned fare every day, and unless there is chicken or tuna hidden somewhere in the dish, she would rather go without it. Sometimes, a broth gravy is more to her liking. She enjoys human company while she eats and is a slow eater. She likes to be hand-fed and prefers an elevated position like the couch or even the back of the couch while she dines.
"Fine," I said, "If you have to wait for a meal, you'll be more hungry and eat more cooperatively."
Wrong. She lost some weight over 24 hours, and I quickly ditched that method of tough love.
There is something terrible in the power a small dog holds in its paw. The success or failure of a 40-plus-year-old woman's day depending on whether Marin eats is a sad state of affairs. Sleepless nights ensue as I envision tiny little Marin wasting away next to me on those days she sniffs and turns up her nose.
I am a mess of a human being.
The hierarchy has changed in our household, and we no longer find ourselves at the top which admittedly was tenuous at best. All the power now lies in a furry bundle of fewer than 10 pounds.
I am not sure how this story will end, but for now and the foreseeable future, there is a diva and the diva's servant...and I know my place...stop laughing, Universe!
Sorry, I can't make it into work today. My dog just laid his head on my foot, and well, that's that.