Monthly Archives: December 2013

How To Be A Hairy Beast: Lesson #2

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HTBAHB: Lesson #2: Sleep all the sleeps2013-12-15 sleep

 

It’s a big job, being a puppy.

So many things to see.

So many things to do.

So many things to hide.

So many things to chew.

And so many sleeps to sleep…

2013-12-15 sleep zoe

I’ve been observing the Hairy Beasts these past few weeks. And something important I’ve noticed is that neither Zeke or Zoey let anything deter them from finding a comfortable spot and zonking out when they’re tired.

I’d noticed this before, but never really given it much thought. I just chalked it up to them being a large breed dog and needing the extra down time to keep their batteries charged. But not only have I noticed it again, this time I’m paying attention to it. Because when the puppy sleeps …

It’s not just that he sleeps, but when, and how, too. He’ll play and be rambunctious for an hour, maybe two, then crash out. And sleep hard; don’t bother me, I’m napping. After an hour or so, when he’s feeling refreshed (or thirsty, because sometimes feeling refreshed after a nap makes you thirsty), he’ll get up, stumble over to the water dish, drink like he’s never tasted water before, and then just sit a minute. When he gets his bearings, he’s off to be rambunctious again. Rinse, repeat at least 5 times each day.

     2013-12-10 sleep table     2013-12-09 sleep hanging head     2013-12-16 sleep 1
2013-12-10 sleep floor
He sleeps all over the house. Under the Christmas tree. On the bed. Under the bed. In the bathroom by the toilet. Under the kitchen table. Under the table on the back patio. The big dog bed. Leaned up against the door in the kitchen. The little dog bed. In the middle of the living room floor. Next to Zoey. On Zoey (this one usually doesn’t last very long). The point is, he sleeps when he’s tired.
He’s not too fussy about location.In puppydom: getting tired = taking a nap. And when the puppy sleeps, everybody sleeps. Hmmmm, I could get kinda used to this ….

 

How To Be A Hairy Beast: Lesson #1

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HTBAHB Lesson 1: Be your Own Dog Photo Dec 04, 8 14 34 PM

Meet Zeke, Hairy Beast in Training. He joined our family last week. At 11 wks old, he already has a sweet temperament and defined personality.

And a mind of his own …  he’s got a pretty decided independent streak. Which is a good thing; he has big paw prints to fill. Farm Dog leaves a significant legacy. But Zeke isn’t Gabe, and he doesn’t have the same frame of reference (any, for that matter) for expected pattern(s) of behavior.

Zeke is definitely his own dog. He knows what he likes and doesn’t like. He likes his belly rubbed. He doesn’t like being told no. He doesn’t like going to bed when he’s overtired. He likes snow and he loves his new dog. For the first few days, Zoey wasn’t too sure about the little furball, but he’s become “her puppy.” She keeps a look out for where he is. They’ve started to play together, and it is pure entertainment to watch.

Photo Dec 05, 9 40 31 PM

Zeke’s decided he likes toys. Soft ones (the cloth/”hairy”) kind. With squeakers. The more obnoxious the squeaker, the better.

Sunday afternoon, he braved the big scary new world of the back field. He didn’t go too far without his dog. Fuzzy Butt was in seventh heaven, making all the dog angels she could. Zeke would put his nose down, run off a few yards, then stop and sit. Like a sentinel on duty, watching Zoey roll, Zeke would sit and just survey his world and taking it all in.

Photo Dec 08, 11 50 11 AM

He likes helping me change the hummie feeder, and skim the thin layer  of ice off the bird bath. And by helping, I mean weaving in and out of around my feet.

Speaking of birds, he kinda likes chasing birds. Which is fine with me.

Maybe he’ll finally run off the pigeons.

“I’m not bored!”

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“Life is an exhilarating ride for those brave enough to climb on.”

An incredibly appropriate sentiment. Seven years ago today, I said a nervous “yes” to an offer to join the team at United Way of Benton & Lincoln Counties. I say nervous, because while it was a great opportunity, I wasn’t *quite* sure if I was ready to take on such a role. It was a step up for me, you see, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of professional growth spurt.

But that was then, and this is now. I wouldn’t have missed this journey for the world!Photo Dec 06, 9 58 52 AM

I learn something new every day.

Nothing about my job is mundane or routine. I love that!

I get to hang out with the cool kids in town–some of the most brilliant, kindest, generous, FUN people–and I feel privileged to know them.

I hear voices in my head–nuggets of wisdom from so many that have mentored me over the years.  “How does this further our mission?”      “Is that fixed or variable?”   “To what end?”    “What problem are we trying to solve?”   “Push the work out to the most appropriate level.”

I’m surrounded by people who take the work seriously, but not themselves. And that matters to me. A LOT.

Because of United Way, I’ve met people who have become some of my closest, dearest friends. We’ve gone gator gazing in the Okefenokee and snagged Arnold Palmer’s autograph. Graffiti-ed on the tables at Block 15 more times than I care to count. Gallivanted across Europe, sampling pastries, collecting street art, and narrowly avoiding ending up in Zimbabwe. Held book club over tea, hats, and fabulous Southern accents. Collected dinosaurs and gone off the map in Venezuela. Discussed going past the mailbox over peppermint hot chocolate. (Food and geography seem to be a pattern here…)

And then there is the work itself. Important, consequential, satisfying and fulfilling. Meeting need today and working to keep problems from happening in the first place. Increasing the capacity of people to care for one another.

It’s been an amazing seven years. I can’t wait to see what the next bring!

Adventures of Farm Dog: epilogue

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There is a GSD-shaped hole in my heart just now.

Last night I had to say goodbye, unexpectedly, to Gabriel my Farm Dog.

While talking with the vet about possible scenarios and options, sitting on the floor in the exam room with Gabe’s face cradled in my hands, reassuring him, he suddenly passed out. The vet and vet tech immediately whisked him to a space with proper equipment. And then came back to say he’d gone.

Just like that, gone. Nearly nine wonderful years, and I wasn’t ready to let him go.

He lived right up to the last moment. Which seems an odd expression … “he lived right up to the last moment” … but he did just that. Yesterday was a normal day for Farm Dog, save for the last 3 hours. The vet assured us Gabe died peacefully, without pain. Whether from a ruptured spleen or ruptured tumor is not so much important as knowing he didn’t suffer. There is consolation in that.

07-01-27_running dogs

Gabe wasn’t just another dog. He was Farm Dog, half of the infamous Hairy Beasts duo. He was a four-legged member of the family. And he had wonderful adventures. Exploring the field, the creek, the flower beds, the closets left open. And he took his job as Farm Dog seriously—guarding his people and land—hunting bumbles, rabbits, and wayward skunks.

I will remember the way he would sit directly in front of me, cock his head to one side, and stare me down until I caved and gave him another cookie. That mournful {sigh} coupled with the pitiful arched eyebrow “I know there is bacon on the table” look. How he’d manage to turn extra soft and snuggly of an early morning—and somehow convince me it’d be OK to sleep through the alarm just today, and go swim tomorrow. Farm Dog

He had a good life. He had a great life. He lived happy every moment; he knew he was loved. And he loved back, hard, with every ounce of his sniffy sniffy nosey dog self.

Goodbye, sweet boy.