Hitchcockian Birds...

I'm angry. No, not at Dizzy. I'm angry at...Angry Birds. It might be because I'm almost addicted to it. Addicted and mainly frustrated. Yes. Angry Birds frustrates the crap out of me. If you've ever played this game and all of its counterparts (like AB Space, Star Wars, Seasons and Rio)you know well the idiocy of continually flipping birds from a slingshot to destroy pigs, monkeys and assorted other obstacles. Short of scoring enough points to pass levels, the player is returned over and again to face the snarking looks of the pigs, with hats and helmets, or monkeys wagging their tales and laughing outrageously. Some fun, huh? OK...so playing the game is bad enough, right? Well, it happened at Christmas that a loving relative who knows who he is...gave a gift to Dizzy Doodle. A stuffed toy, you ask? Maybe a rawhide bone? A bag of dog chow, perhaps? No such luck. The marvelous gift was a rubber squeaky toy, noisy, irritating, annoying...and shaped like an angry bird. Really? Yes. Really. An angry bird. Thanks to my brother and his family. Dizzy...did Dizzy like it? Are you kidding? Of course he loved it! Every blow of air he loves. Every screech he loves. Every chew that emits a blood curdling, ear piercing noise he loves. Over and over again, he loves it. He wants me to throw it, so he can run after it, grab it with his huge toothy mouth, and then squeeze it to emit that wonderfully head cracking noise. But, Dizzy loves it. He really does. And yes, I hide it around a little for the respite. But he loves it. Every squeeze, every chew, every run. He loves it. It goes to show that there are many things that can be loved even though I might be irritated by it. And I suppose the same goes for all of us, doesn't it? Life isn't always the pretty, beautiful sounding and looking paradise pictured in Angry Birds Rio. No. But Dizzy can find happiness chewing a squeezing a little rubber toy. And, I guess, I...and all of us...can find a little thing that will make us happy. In fact, it is the little things that do that. Though I don't want a little rubber toy that makes irritating noises. And so it is with Angry Birds. They are just like the birds in the movie! This game would give Alfred Hitchcock pleasure. Frankly, he can have them!

Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory....

It is rather obvious to me that my Dizzy Doodle isn't a "service dog." As my eyes grow weary, I know I cannot depend upon him leading me around, getting my slippers or the newspaper. Just isn't going to happen. So as my vision begins to fade, I am "seeing" the people and things, and pets, that I CAN depend upon. First in line is my wife who, after these many years, seems to have gotten overly cautious with me and my growing disabilities. Yes, it make me crabby sometimes, but in the end I am so appreciative of the reality of her concern. Behind her, are some family members. Now, I know they all care, so don't misunderstand. Yet there are, perhaps, only a few I will really be able to depend upon. I won't get into names here, just suffice it to say I know who you are! And let's not forget some of my friends. There are several who would do nearly anything out of the kindness of their hearts. I know I can depend upon big screen TV's, at least for awhile. Providing a BIG picture on the wall is helpful, though even with that there are some things I need my wife to read for me. I can depend upon my computer some, as long as I can enlarge the font. Toaster ovens and microwaves are very good to me, being easy and all. And of course, I can depend upon Dizzy...for some things. I can depend upon his love, mostly...and I can depend upon his being there. At least for now. He will be 10 this year, and even though his exuberance is still reminiscent of his puppy days, I know time will take its toll on him. In the meantime, through my complaining and frustration around his antics and his persistent begging (I blame my wife for that!) I love this dog with full measure. I can depend upon his happiness when I come if from work, his clock telling us its time for bed, his tenderness when I'm sad, and his love whenever I need it. There's nothing like a Dizzy...

Home Alone 4: Dizzy in Charge

Here it is. Time for the annual trip of the wife to a conference in a god-forsaken land. This year's destination: Dallas, Texas. In past years, it has been in Dallas, or San Diego, or Orlando. And so, at 5 a.m. Saturday (today) wifey got into a limo and is now well on her way to the Lone Star State.

That, my friends, means that Dizzy and I are alone again, naturally. The pooch has absolutely NO idea what is happening. I am trying to understand myself, frankly, but that has little bearing on this missive. Well, maybe it does.

You see, for the next week, that is seven days, or 168 hourse, 14 feedings, 7 walks, up to 7 frisbee chases, 14 peanut butter bones, innumerable treats, nudges, etc., the Doodle Dad will end up being at the mercy of the Doodle himself.

Don't get me wrong. Dizzy isn't a dictator. Ok, maybe he is somewhat demanding, but who wouldn't be if you have to rely on ME? After all, if ya gotta go, ya gotta go, and if you're hungry but can't fill your kibble bowl, or your water jug...let's face it: Dizzy is dependant upon me. And yes, he WILL let me know when there is a need. In the end, Dizzy is in charge.

A dog trainer used to say, "Dogs do not speak English." And she was right, in a literal sense. Yet, they have their own language, in their eyes, their faces, their demeanor, in the nudging and barking and pacing and...well, if you have a dog, you already know. If they have a message, they will get it across. Like the dog in Alaska that led a state trooper to a burning home. If that was Dizzy, he would then sit and beg for a treat.

OK, I'll end the pity party for me. It will already be a busy week, and being a Doodle Dad will make it busier. I'm sure it will, as it always does, make me better understand what my lovely wife does each day, caring for Dizzy and me. I always try to be appreciative, and sometimes succeed. But I also know that I often take her for granted.

I'm not sure how Dizzy will be next Friday night when she gets home. Probably just happy happy happy that Momma has come back. His love is always (or at least, most often!) unconditional.

I'll be happy happy too. And while I believe that my love is unconditional as well, the lessons learned when Dizzy is in charge are never lost. I hope.

Easter Doodle Parade

With Easter around the corner (like in 48 hours) we always face the conundrum of what happens with the pooch, Dizzy. When the celebration is at our home, Dizzy still has the run of the house (except during meal time) and is a part of the festivities. Yet, when we visit elsewhere, we know that the presence of a 70 pound doodle isn't always a situation easily dealt with.

And so it will be on Easter as we venture to our daughter's house, along with a whole Easter Parade of other family and friends. I anticipate 14 or 15 people, as well as Bingo, the granddog. Now, Bingo is a lovely dog, as is Dizzy. But the fact is that the combination of the two can be in the least, hectic. At worst, it's exhausting and not a little chaotic. Yes, Dizzy would be very welcomed, and our daughter and husband and kids would have no issue. But for us, chaos is best controlled if at all possible. Oy.

For us, this means that on Easter Sunday, the highest holy day of the Christian calendar, our parade will consist of only two to the celebration, leaving Diz behind in what he may not easily recognize as the peace and quiet of this domicile. And that's all well and good, except for the feeling of guilt that is inevitable with this process.

You see, Dizzy is a part of our family. My wife always reminds me that Dizzy is the only real "child" that I'll ever have (since the others are step kids). Leaving Dizzy behind is, well, disturbing. A day of celebration, with fun and food, and the poor pooch remains alone. All alone. In a barely lit home. Alone. Geez.

OK. I'm a bad doggie daddy. Dizzy is welcomed there, and we should take him to be with Bingo and the rest of the crowd. But we won't take Diz. We'll opt for a pseudo contribution to peace and quiet. Yeah. Sure.

Dogs are a part of our families. We love them like kids, we treat them like kids. We share the pain when they hurt, we laugh when they play, we grieve when they pass. Diz is our kid. We love him and care for him. We play with him, we train him, we feed him, we punish him. We comfort him and reward him, even if he gives us the paw.

After all, he is Dizzy the Doodle, master of all he surveys, including our hearts and minds. Even so, he will stay at home, alone, on Easter. And be absolutely thrilled when we come back to our humble abode.

If it's Tuesday, it must be Oranjestad

Well, the warm winds of Aruba are a memory, and things here in the world of Dizzy Doodle have returned mostly to normal. Our friends R and B were more than gracious hosts, generous to a fault.

So while we were relaxing in the warmth and sunshine, eating and snorkeling and then eating some more, what was I thinking about? The grandkids and Dizzy, that's who. I know, we were in a true paradise with white sand beaches, beautiful golf course, deep blue water, Argentinian beef, and truly friendly people. (Not in that order, really. The beef was excellent!). How could I keep thinking of the ties at home? Don't know. There is something about my pooch and my babies that have so deeply touched my heart that I'm just not the same person I was 20 years ago. Who knew that dogs and babies would soften me, alter my spirit, mesmerizing me to a point where they are actually more important than a blonde in a bikini? Or at least, nearly as important....

But I digress, remembering that my loving wife reads this blog. Ahem.

So, while leaving the island paradise was not something I savored, I looked forward to the return to real life. Yes, I have seen some of the babies, and hopefully to see the rest soon. And of course, we have "rescued" Dizzy from the Doggie Hilton. His excitement at seeing us was unbounded, with the jumping and the licking I missed so much. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a dog.

And the greetings from the babies was fantastic. The two that we saw ran to us with hugs and smiles. Geez. I was overwhelmed with the love. I nearly cried.

The love of family, both two and four footed is precious. They are anchors in our lives, and bring a richness that needs to be experienced to be understood.

For those of you who think that I'm comparing my grandkids to my dog, well, I guess I am. Yes they are different, certainly, but the similarity of the feeling in the heart cannot be dismissed. They all are family, my family, and among so many others, help give meaning to me and all that I do.

So while the bank account took a hit, the major part of my family, my precious wife, was happy as could be. The return to pooch and babies was wonderful.

And the blessings that have been showered on me can never be dimunized, forgotten, or put aside.

Peace.

The Doodle Dog of Alcatraz

If there is one thing we know in our house, its that Dizzy LOVES going to his Doggie Day Care. He only goes one day a week (used to be two, 'til we decided that the mortgage had a slight edge in importance) but that day is filled with jumping and prancing and just general excitement. I guess I understand. I often feel the same way when I go to McDonald's.

So its understandable that we choose the kennel that houses the day care for a doggie hotel when Dizzy needs long term respite, when we go on vaca and can't take him. It's like a doggie hotel, with a la carte services, heated floors, playtime activities, and other canines with whom to spend time.

I would also guess it's lonely, alone in a single cell. So sure, a hotel of sorts, but just a few steps above San Quentin or Alcatraz.

Yes, the people at the kennel are wonderful, Dizzy loves them, they take good care of him, etc. But his Mom and Dad aren't there, and well, I feel guilty.

OK...there it is. I feel guilty. I know he'll be waiting for me to get him. He'll miss sleeping on the bob-o-pedic with us (I may miss the pedic as well sleeping on our friends couch). He'll miss the frisbee and the treats. He'll miss getting us up at 3 a.m. so that he can walk around the yard and sniff into the breeze. I'll miss the face licking, the jumping, the prancing, and the unconditional love. Not that my wife doesn't love me, it's just, ya know....a "man and his dog" thing.

But no matter, I'll make the best of the couch since it sits in warm Aruba, and Dizzy will have times of play each day, some time in Day Care with his buddies, and just some absence that will only make the heart grow fonder.

I will miss Dizzy, and I want to come home to find him happy and healthy, and ready to love me. Unconditionally.

OK...so its a crap shoot. But I'll be betting on Diz, 'cause I'm his Daddy!

The Doodle in Winter

OK...so it has been a LONG winter. Here in New England, though many feet of snow have moved past us to the south, the dreariness has mostly remained but for a few glimpses of the warmth yet to come.

For Dizzy Doodle, it means slightly less time outside due to cold, wet days, muddy yards, and freakishly exhausted Dad and Mom. He is not happy about that, I'm sure. Yet, he can be bought with treats and peanut butter.

But Dizzy loves winter, and loves to bounce around in the snow. He runs back and forth kicking up the fallen flakes, wearing out what little remains of the lawn. Certainly when its freezing, and his little toes get cold, he will let us know when enough is enough. However, when the weather is right, and the treats are unending, the back and forth with the frisbee can go forever. And forever.

After nearly 57 years, however, I've had it with winter. I am nearly willing to sacrifice all of our savings, our house, and necessary dental work to get to a warm beach somewhere (Aruba?). I will go hungry to save the cash (not really) and make a deal with the Devil, or at least with the ghost of Daniel Webster.

And yet, one would think that coming up on nearly six decades that I'd be used to this, have learned how to deal with, play in it, revel in it. Aside from using the fireplace for a cozy Saturday evening (no, not THAT cozy) all I've really learned is that I need to sleep with socks on, and a shirt as well. I'm also contemplating pajama bottoms. I also get concerned with the price of heating oil and electricity, the effect of snow melt crystals on the cement walk and contiguous lawn, black ice, ice dams in gutter, and...and...whether a silly gopher will see his damn shadow. I actually look forward to the Red Sox truck leaving Fenway for Florida!

I wish my life were as simple as the Doodle's, and I could be happy with a treat and peanut butter. Well, fact is, if you knew me, you would KNOW that a treat and peanut butter is really all I need.

OK. So this whole post is simply an opportunity to whine about winter, and a wish to visit a warm climate for about a week.

Can you blame me? I live in New England after all.