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.

Ya gotta go, ya gotta go...

The last thing that any of us might want to do is get out of a nice, warm bed at 4:30 a.m. to let the dog out. but that is exactly what happened this morning, at 4:30, on this dark and cold January. Dizzy Doodle decided that he needed a touch of Jack Frost, wanting to color the backyard snow with a yellow tinge that can only be one of two things. One of two things is spilled beer.

This was not what Diz had in mind. He had the OTHER yellow liquid in thought, and in bladder, as he stood in the bed, jumped loudly to the wood floor, and pranced across through the kitchen to the back door. I tried to deny it for two minutes, but as we all know, water will find its own way. So I, too, needed a trip. And I got my trip before Dizzy got his. Frankly, its better for him that way since I was far more patient than had it been the other way around.

Fact is, Sterling Hayden was right. He played Capt McCluskey in The Godfather (best movie EVER!). In the restaurant scene Michael Corleone asks to be allowed to visit the Men's Room, as we knew to get the gun hidden there. Salazzo looks to McCluskey for his thought, and the good Irish police captain said, "Ya gotta go, ya gotta go."

No better way to explain the process. The urge for man AND beast is involuntary, control will only take you so far.

But enough urology.

This morning did cause me to ponder a few things, however.

One, if I had waited longer would my wife had gotten up instead? Unsure, since she was snoring quite a bit at that point, and my preference is to believe that she wasn't faking THAT at least.

Second, could Disney have waited another hour until the alarm went off? Something we will never know.

But the third thing is far more important. That is, how complete the responsibility is that we have for those in our charge.

My barber is preparing to take his family to Disneyworld. Aside from the fact that I must be tipping him too much, I understood his concern for this 4 year old. He fears that his speedy toddler will try to run for fun, and for any of us who have visited the Magic Kingdom with awe and wonder (followed by high credit card debt) we know that the size of the crowds, the parks nooks and crannies, can all offer an element of fear as we fully desire to keep safe those for whom we are responsible. They depend upon us, for good or ill. They rely on us, and we have promised that we will keep them safe, secure, providing for all of their needs as best we can.

Any of us who own pets understand this. Diz looks to Kathy and I to feed him, offer him water, be sure he's healthy, and to let him have time for fun AND to care for all of his "other" needs. He, like any child, is completely dependant upon us. And UNLIKE most any child, he will be for his whole life.

When we initially got our first dog, Brody, I had a lot of trepidation. And in some ways, I was right. Within a week, Brody broke out of the house and fled the scene for parts unknown. I was apoplectic, crushed, heartbroken and afraid. Streets around here are busy, and I was convinced that I'd never see him alive again.

I told Kathy that I couldn't handle being a doggie daddy. I wasn't good enough. Yet within minutes, Brody showed up in front of the house. We coaxed him in with the help of a neighbor, but he DID come back. I was astonished. But I was real happy.

I came to learn, particularly with this dog, that safety and security was prime. Running was in his nature and there was nothing I could do about it except try to prevent it, and find him when I could't.

Brody escaped several times over the years, but luckily he never was injured. His demise was cancer, and I still remember that in my caring for him, my fear was that we kept him for too long. Sometimes letting go is a part of keeping safe.

So Dizzy Doodle, McCluskey was right: Ya gotta go, ya gotta go. But can we make later next time?

Peace.

Bully Bully

I've never liked the game "keep away." Aside from the fact that I'm a heavy guy, slow afoot, and as far from agile as can be imagined, this game has always reminded me of my childhood. The big kid down the street would grab my hat, or my school bag, or my Roy Rogers lunch box, and make me chase him to get it back. His name was Donny. Of course, I could never keep up with him for all of the above mentioned reasons. In the process, Donny showed himself to be what we all knew he was: a bully.

One time he stepped on my prize motorized model tank that my Dad and I had put together...my "Battling Betsy." I loved that tank. But Donny stepped on it, and Betsy could battle no more.

The bastard.

Thus, in this man's mind, keep away and bullying all seem to blend together. And, hence the issue.

One of the things that my beloved wife has taught our Dizzy Doodle is the game of keep away. Yes I know that "chase me I have something" is a typical dog game. But for Diz, it seems particularly fun. As it apparently is also for Kathy. Just not for me.

This means that in the evening, if I take the Doodle out for playtime with the frisbee, it's not a game of fetch. It becomes a game of keep away, as the pooch keeps the disc away from Dad. He thinks its the best thing since sliced bread. I think of the neighbor bully, Donny. He has a great time, I get winded (being slow afoot and not agile....) trying to grab the frisbee. He loves to pull, I get muscle pulls in this tug of war.

And now I have to ask myself, is my Doodle a bully? Is my little Dizzy a Donny? OK...that sounds weird. But you know what I mean.

Alright, for Diz it's all in fun. For him its not about bullying, or teasing or making me miserable. He's just in it for a good time.

I guess I can accept that.

The Alzheimer's Association has developed this process called "habilitation." It's about working with caregivers to better understand the person who has the disease. It asks the caregiver to go with the flow, to accept better the reality of the person with Alzheimer's, and try to enter their world. This approach helps bring peace the caregiver, and makes life more amenable for the person with dementia.

Fine. I need to habilitate to Disney. I need to enter his world, and better understand it. But I thought I was the Master? I thought I was the Alpha dog!

No matter. First things first. I need to be sure that Dis just has his fun.

At least, that's what Kathy says.....

Peace!

It's Good to Be the King!

OK, so I'm NOT a king. But if Mel Brooks was king in a movie, and Ralph Kramden was the pseudo-king of his castle, and my Dad proclaimed himself the king of our apartment back home (God rest him...) then I can envision myself a some sort of king in some part of my world. Just not sure what part of the world that is as yet.

What does it mean to BE a king? Well, it depends upon your world view. Benevolent or dictator, we could get all sorts of info from Machiavelli's "The Prince."

Or, we could look to our Dizzy.

Dizzy believes himself to be the king in our household. In his mind's eye, the world is always about him. All things revolve around him. And if it's NOT about him, he's shocked, disappointed, dismayed, and is ready to offer his thin lipped look and give you--er, me--the Paw. Last night, coming in from work, he got the cold shoulder from me because of our little disagreement the night before. He moped for a very short period, and then ignored me altogether. So, I moped... Now THAT could be another post.

Yet when things go his way, look for jumping, licking, cuddling. Virtual ecstasy for this Doodle. "Treats? I'll do anything you want. A ride? Take me, take me! A walk? Anything for a poop! Frisbee? Anytime!"

He also loves his doggie day care, once a week. This can be rather costly, but the king needs his recreation. If English kings had falconry and foxhunts, King Diz has his Daycare and frisbee. He can't get enough of either one. The bank account, however, prefers the frisbee...

But overall, even though Dizzy Doodle shows signs of dictatorship, the bottom line is always benevolence. The love of this pooch cannot be described. Even when he and I are at odds, I know that what he wants is to love and give love. And even though this sometimes needs to be coaxed out with a treat or two, his love is truly fit for a king, or queen (my wife, not me!).

And maybe, that's the real lesson. The best kings are the ones that love their people, good bad and indifferent. Because if a king has no love for his people, then contempt will fill the void.

Dizzy offers unconditional love, even though he shows it in weird ways sometimes! Don't know what I'd do without Diz. Maybe he IS the king of our castle!

Peace on this Little Christmas!

Talk to the Paw

Last night Dizzy Doodle and I had a little "contretemps." OK....a little disagreement. He was being a pill, looking for treats and attention, and wanting to lick dinner plates. Yes, I know how that sounds.

But, in any event, he was "nudgy" and I, being the (ahem) "Master of the House," told him to come and sit. Disney, being Dizzy, ignored me and kept attention to Kathy. So, as "Master" and, I might add, top dog in my pack (at least Kathy lets me think that) I took the bull by the horns, that is the dog by the collar, and forced him into a sit. It was NOT easy, and this doodle resisted to the point where I actually had to push on his hinds to get him down. Oy! What a session.

I kept him there as Kathy moved out of the den and into the kitchen. He "stayed" at that point and, I think, realized that he was in deep doo, at least with me. After a short period, I let him move. Afterward, he was a little more attentive to me, probably more out of concern that deep affection. Then for the rest of the evening he pretty well avoided me.

The reality is that Dizzy has a way of flippin' the bird to me, not so much by raising a paw (although I call it "giving me the paw") but more by the look on his face. He will glare at me, mouth closed, eyes cold and daring. At this stage, he reminds of someone from college that had thin lips that, when closed, looked like a winner in a stare down contest. But I digress.

I have found with Dis that it's VERY important to assert my "dogfather-ship" upon occasion, so that he and I keep an appropriate relationship. Unfortunately, I don't think he sees it that way, and I often get the paw shown to me.

Oh well, it's one of life's lessons. Leadership isn't always pleasant. Like homeownership, snow shoveling, and to-do lists. Yet, do it we must, forging on like Lewis and Clark. I resisted saying like Martin and Lewis, so give me some credit.

But for all of this, life with Dizzy is, well, somewhat Dizzy. Note that last night at bedtime he did cuddle against me. It was probably because he was cold. I prefer to think that it was simply kiss and make up time.

Peace....

Let it be written, let it be done!

OK...so my apologies to the writers of the movie "The Ten Commandments." Using Yul Brynner's line for a title means nothing at this point, but just that I have been thinking about blogging for quite some time.

My name is Bob, and I run a non-profit dedicated to working with senior citizens and the other organizations that help them. You'll hear about some of this over time, as well as other interests, like camping, freemasonry, and other aspects of my life.

And, of course, you'll want to know what the heck a Dizzy Doodle is. Well, Dizzy Doodle is one of the nick names we (my wife Kathy and I) have for our 61/2 year old labradoodle, Disney. See, I didn't want to use the term "disney" in the title so that some large theme park company wouldn't track me down in a lawsuit. After seeing how so many lonely individuals have been sued by big corporations, I decided that trickery was the better part of valor.

Therefore, Disney is the hook in the title, but the blog will be about my life, with Kathy, with Disney, with work, with....well, everything. Over time I'll write about the various characters that I know, whether friends or family, and the myriad experiences of life. Hopefully I'll be insightful and humorous. That'll be for others to decide.

Now....

Here in New England, it's interesting that it snowed for several days. It's in winter time that I find that homeownership isn't all it's cracked up to be. But, it is what it is for now, with the snowblowing and shoveling, ensuing back pain et al. Frankly, I got really ticked at the plow driver, though, when he pushed what appears to be several tons of snow over the drain in our street. Being the poor neighbor that I am, I cleared enough snow so that any draining melt will-hopefully-bypass my driveway and find its way elsewhere (probably my neighbor's yard.) We'll see soon enough.

One neat thing about new snow is watching Dizzy prance. He's got long poodle legs, and he can skamper through some depth of frozen precip at a great pace. He can certainly run! And, he just LOVES it, too. At the end, with his face covered in snow, drool hanging down, he loves being toweled dry. Yes...its a dog's life. Unfortunately, this will only occupy him for a short time, and then his preoccupation with being the center of attention gets the better of him. This doodle will poke and prod, whine and coax, until someone pays him attention, plays with him, offers him a treat, or frankly, goes to bed. Yes, he sleeps with us, usually against one of us, between us, and often up our butts. Upon occasion he will abandon us for the couch in the other room. When this happens, we miss him (particularly if its cold), but we rejoice with the space and freedom of movement that is its gift.

Well, this is only the beginning. There will be more to come, I hope.

Peace and all good things,
Bob