November 06, 2011 by
Kramer and Tex
I’ve had dead dog ashes for a while. When I look at memorials online, they are too stodgy and don’t fit the personality of Kramer or Tex. My idea has always been a small picture frame with a little test tube of ashes glued on. Much better than a small pine box with dates on it.
I’m creative, but I’m not crafty. If you looked at my abandoned scrapbooking project, you would assume my godson is three months old. But I still like to cruise the aisles of Michaels to pickup seasonal things. This weekend I stumbled upon a heart-shaped magnet box picture frame pair. For $2.39 I grabbed it. When I got home I popped the lids, put the pictures in, dumped the ashes, and placed the magnets on the refrigerator next to other family photos and my “Hard ons do not count as personal growth” magnet. Dixie and I then went to hike the cliffs and dump the remaining ashes.
Sometimes when there is no creative pressure, you can find solutions in between wicker baskets and apple-scented candles. Kramer and Tex are finally “at rest” and I have more space in my nightstand drawer.
November 05, 2011 by
The challenge with any rescue dog is not knowing its history. With Dixie, I’ve taken it very slowly and carefully and continue to learn what she likes and dislikes.
Men are on a case-by-case basis. She’s size and race agnostic, but if a man has a hat, goatee, and/or sunglasses, the low volume growl begins. With frequent visits, she eventually converts and tolerates the man. Kind of like me.
Women she categorically likes and is not threatened by as long as there are no sunglasses involved. That was until she met her first asian accountant. I don’t know if it was the eyes, the straight black hair, or if she just hated the smell of straight line depreciation, but Dixie no likey.
Despite all this, I continue my love affair with Miss Dixie. We keep the lines of communication open and take it one day at a time. And now I know my Chinese will have to be carry out and not delivery.
November 03, 2011 by
This morning, I was in front of Camp Canine waiting for an attendant to take Dixie when an elderly black man strolled by with a very tricked-out shopping cart.
“Excuse me goddess,” he said. I turned and looked at him, the dog, then back to him. ”Could you tell me what time it is?”
I smiled and told him it was 8:50 a.m. ”Thank you. You and that cute dog have a blessed day,” he replied as he rolled away.
My dog makes me very happy, but being called a goddess does a girl good prior to going to work. I need to wear my nice ass jeans more often or hang out on skid row in order to get a decent compliment.