I Miss You, Baby Girl

 

I have parted with many material things this past year, but one loss stands up and shouts in my heart right now.
I miss my little chihuahua, Ms. Skeeter. This was my first Christmas without her since I rescued her in 2007.
I haven’t had many regrets about the belongings I gave away, threw away and sold, which is good, because when I mourn, I mourn long and hard.
But, as I wrapped presents for my dog, Maggie Mae, Ms. Skeeter’s absence was loud and my heart was aching with missing her.
She was a feisty little lady, and as she grew older, a biter. She would bite me savagely for cutting her nails, she’d attack anyone who touched shoes (so we had to hide all the shoes) and sometimes, she’d bite me and Maggie Mae for no reason at all.
Between her bites, we all enjoyed playing and running, toys, hugs, and kisses.
She slept beside my computer when I wrote, and when she wanted a break, she’d lay on the computer. She was by my side for twelve years, whether I wrote, walked, cleaned the house, sat outside or slept. She loved to hold the remote and she always kept one paw on something of mine. Lord help me if I wanted it back.
I miss you, baby girl. I know you’re playing with the other dogs in Heaven; but I wish you were still here with me.

Goodbye For Now Ms. Skeeter (Kita) March 26

 

 

Poodles From Outerspace

The first time I saw Peggy-Sue, she was eight weeks old. I looked into her tiny face and I adored her. She was a creamy white color, with apricot splashes and her nose was a peachy, brown, heart shape. I had no idea back then that she was from another galaxy; she looked like a real poodle to me.
Well, let me tell you, she is anything but a dog. Oh sure, she would fool most people, but I have seen her real identity, that peculiar little creature that lives under all that poufy hair.
I know that she sent for back-up. Puppy just appeared on our doorstep, but I believe aliens dropped him off.
Puppy looks like a poodle too, but his true nature peeks out from beneath the hair that covers his eyes. He peers out from under his fluffy bangs in that sneaky way he has, and he watches us.
I’m not as sure about Charlie, my little black poodle, but since he was neutered, he hasn’t been quite himself. I swear that if I had known that they would castrate him, I wouldn’t have had it done. I thought they would give him a vasectomy.
Anyway, I guess he has a sound reason to act strange and I really think that he is just a normal, silly dog and not an alien like the other two.
I don’t know what the two white poodles plan to do with the rest of humanity, but they have taken over this family and we are prisoners in our home. I continue to resist, but they have total control over my husband’s mind. They manipulate him in strange alien ways, and he obeys their every command.
Peggy-Sue won’t eat unless he sits with her and she likes to bite somebody before she eats. She has many rules about eating. I guess the traditions on her planet are quite different from those of earth dogs. For instance, she forces my husband to get out of bed, (if he is asleep, she wakes him up) to get her water and food.
She uses a variety of alien signals. I have begun to de-code these messages, but I pretend I don’t understand her; it would take more than an alien poodle to get me out from under the warm covers!
She has such a sweet baby face that it’s hard to believe she’s an alien poodle and when you see her, you may doubt my story or even believe that I’m crazy.
I am contacting you at the Men in Black Program because I am sure you’ll be interested in studying her and trying to track down her siblings.
In addition, I hope you can help release her alien influence on my husband’s brain. Maybe you could give him shock treatments or cough up a few of those designer drugs you’ve created with my tax dollars.
Please be careful when you enter our home, remember, they are not dogs and they are dangerous! You may need to bring a S.W.A.T. team to take them out of the house, because until my husband is de-briefed–HE WILL RESIST YOUR ATTEMPTS TO SAVE US!
Peggy-Sue, the tiny poodle has him completely under her control. He doesn’t even suspect that she is running our lives or that she is in charge of this home.
I don’t know why she picked our family or why she summoned Puppy here to help her, but I feel that they are gathering strength and soon I will be sleeping alone, condemned to the spare room while they lounge on my bed; cuddling my husband, eating my snacks, maybe even wearing my clothes.
Seriously, I caught Peggy-Sue trying on my underwear last weekend. She had it over her head and I wasn’t about to ask her for it back or show her the correct way to wear it.
As I sit here typing, they are all three at my feet, watching, waiting for me to try to escape. I fear for my life, so please come soon and capture these alien poodles from Hell. You must prevent the take-over of our planet by these devious creatures, because they only appear to be dogs. They are not. Aliens they are, that you can believe.
I am a prisoner in my own home, so please come soon,
Sincerely,
Jeanne Marie

The Painting

Dear Family,
I have sold the house and I am downsizing to a travel RV.
Now, I know how much ya’ll loved Miss Peggy-Sue and I don’t want you fighting over this picture, so I have a plan.
First, we all know that this picture is priceless, mostly because Auntie Jean painted it, may she RIP.
Second, because we all know what a sweetheart MPS was and how much joy she gave our family for 24 years. (She really didn’t bite that hard.)
So, whomever wants to give me $500.00 a month for the rest of my life, you will be awarded permanent ownership of this awesome reminder of your little sister. (Hint-hint on possible bidders.) Payments can be made through PayPal, as I will be rolling full-time.
You could also split the fee four ways, and each have this sugar pie in your home, staring down at you for three months of the year.
I offered it for free to two of my four children and they turned the offer down passionately. I think they were just overcome by the memories of our sweet and crazy little girl.
In retrospect, I realized that if I don’t ask for money, they might not realize the value of Miss Peggy-Sue’s portrait.
It was going to be their inheritance, but I have decided to leave one of my kids my painting I did when I was turning 60 years old. One will get an autographed copy of my new book, SHE, not yet written or published, so hopefully I’ll live long enough to finish the book, or someone gets nothing. (I have finished the cover!)
One will receive the painting I did when I turned 63, admittedly not my best work, but it was a very rough year. One will receive my potpourri collection, flower petals from every garden I’ve grown since 2007. It also includes petals from all my flowers that ya’ll gave me as presents, so it’s a return on your original investment; although, I might have to put a price on the potpourri, just so you know how special it is to me.
This portrait deal is a limited time offer and is open first to my four children. After July 15th, any member of my family is welcome to make a generous offer.
Let’s all take a moment to comment on what we loved best about Miss Peggy-Sue, although she was an alien from the planet Unknown, she never did us any long-lasting harm and the bites did heal.
No foul language, please.
Love, MUM aka Jeanne Marie

https://womenwhothinktoomuch.com/2013/04/01/why-i-miss-the-boy/

Goodbye For Now Ms. Skeeter (Kita) March 26


There is never enough time to give all the love you have to anyone. There is never enough time.
I have loved this little dog with all my heart since the day we got her from the shelter in Orlando.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I want to give her more love before she goes, but we’re out of time.
There is never enough time.
Maybe that’s why God gave us dogs, so we could practice grieving the loss of what we love so much, so that when we lose people, we have already had a glimpse of what it’s going to feel like.
We already know what a broken heart is, before we are knocked out of our orbit by losing a person we love.
That’s the only reason I can think of why dogs have a short life, why they usually go before us.
I know God has an incredible plan and that we only see the knots on the back side of the tapestry.
I trust him with all my heart, but I wish letting go didn’t hurt so much.
I love this little girl beyond measure, and that’s why she’s crossing the rainbow bridge today, because I don’t want her to suffer anymore.
She has made me laugh, she has made me cry, she has made me want to pull my hair out. She has bit me when I tried to get my shoes, she has bit me when I tried to wipe her butt or Lord help me, when I tried to cut her toenails.
In the first three years, we went through three rug shampooers before we got her colitis under control and then had to replace all our rugs. We got her healthy, up to eight pounds and we just kept loving her. We saved her and she saved us.
I don’t regret one minute of her life.
She has kissed me good morning every day since the day we adopted her. She looks in my eyes and she sees my soul and I see her’s too.
She’s empathetic, she’s compassionate, and she’s a crazy hellion on four, little feet.
She’s Ms. Skeeter, a one of a kind and she’s my baby.
She was two years old when we adopted her. Just three pounds of wild, untrained energy.
People used to ask me what is that? Is that a dog? Some even thought she was a monkey.
I used to walk her and she’d run me around the park that we lived in, faster than I could go.
People used to laugh as we went by and ask, who’s walking who?
She was like a mosquito, buzzing around her brother, Puppy, and that’s how she got her name.
She’s fourteen now and for the last six months, diabetes has taken its toll.
We’ve had six months of extra time, but that time is up and as long as it’s in my power, I won’t let her suffer anymore.
Mom, I know you don’t really enjoy dogs, but if you could take care of her for me until I get there, I’d be very grateful.
Help her to find her brother, Puppy, and let her run free. She won’t be any trouble at all, unless you take off your shoes and try to pick them up, good luck with that.
Goodbye, Ms. Skeeter, just for now. Run free, and thank you for all the kisses.

Thank you to Dr. Robards and the staff at Eastside Animal Hospital for giving us the last six months and for their extremely compassionate care today.
Thank you to my daughter for taking Kita’s Last Ride with me. 💔💔💔
Also, thank you to my husband for spending thousands on Kita and on every dog we rescued.💔💔💔

Maggie Mae and Ms. Kita Do Halloween

I have not finished with October and yet here it is, a third of the way through November!
I’d still like to share some October highlights, regardless of the calendar.
If some photos are blurred it is because these babies were not interested in holding still for a photo shoot.
The fun began when I opened the front door, and even though the babies knew that they couldn’t go outside, (the gate was their first clue) they did know that there was something different going on and the bowl of candy just beyond their reach fired up their imaginations.
As they gazed out the front door in anticipation,  I scooped up a babe, one at a time, and we began the not so easy task of trying on costumes. Being girls, they each went through a few different looks before they settled on a Harley Davidson sweater and a lovely pink frock. Although I told Maggie Mae that it was a dress, not a costume, she insisted that it was her favorite. This was Maggie’s first Halloween, so, I let her have her way as she kept her eyes mostly closed when wearing the pumpkin ensemble.  They both declined hats and we were ready. Mama had no time to think about her own costume, so Daddy got to answer the door and hand out the candy. He wore his regular face, but he added a smile.
After about three hours and a handful of kiddies, the party was over. Gate came down, door was closed and most of the ten pound bag of candy was packed up to be shipped to my daughter, Jodie Lynne.
It was an exciting night for the babies and I’m hoping by next Halloween Maggie will be a little bit more mature and actually wear a costume.

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Maggie Mae and her purse…

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I was getting ready to leave for the airport this morning and realized that Maggie Mae was planning on coming with me. I didn’t get out today and rearranged to leave Saturday, so she eased up on her packing. She didn’t realize that she wasn’t going with me and I’m not gonna tell her until I hug her goodbye on Saturday.
She loves her new sister and her new Daddy so she will be fine, but I’m already missing her. If you haven’t been following my saga, “Jodie’s Journey” I adopted Maggie Mae when her Momma, my daughter Jodie, went to prison April 7.
I’m going to Oklahoma to meet my third great grand baby, Violet Dawn, just a little over two weeks old! Met Carter, my second great grand baby last month. He is just over two months old and I met Ricky, my first great grand baby at the same time. Ricky is a handsome one-year-old. Grand baby number 14, courtesy of my son Rick and his angel Jessica, is due in December. It is The Year of the Babies for us.

Maggie Mae Packs For Florida…leaving her coats and sweaters behind…and her Mama.

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Maggie Mae was an angel on the plane ride to Florida, even with a connecting flight on our agenda. We arrived home safe and she is settling in and getting accustomed to her new sister, Ms. Kita.
Ms. Kita is thrilled to have another Chihuahua to run with and is happily sharing her toys. Happy about sharing her Mommy and Daddy? Not so much.

What?! I’m getting a sister?!

What?! I’m getting a sister!?
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I have to learn to share my toys!?
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Are you joking!?
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What’s her name? Maggie Mae? What kind of a name is that for a Chihuahua? She is a Chihuahua, right?
What does she look like?
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Oh she is so pretty! But she’s not prettier than me, right Mommy? She has her own clothes, right?
Her own blankies?
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Okay, I guess it will work out.
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Let’s go get her!
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Inspired By Run A Muck Dog Ranch

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LOVE DOGS. Love lots of dogs even more.
We used to go RV-ing to the drag races, with three poodles and a Yorkie. They would start to run around the house and bark just because we were loading the RV. Plus, we pulled a race car. They all slept on our bed, two slept on our heads. We r down to one Chihuahua and seriously considering adopting two more babies. My little girl barks at us to get on the floor and play and then she runs up on the couch and snuggles into our warm spots.

Calming A Wild Puppy

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I have rescued several dogs over the years but the most recent addition to the family, Ms. Skeeter, a two-pound Chihuahua/Terrier mix, is the wildest little dog I have ever met. She is a ball of non-stop energy. When I first saw her at the shelter she was timid, curled in a little ball and she whimpered when I picked her up.
Then we brought her home and she became Super-Dog! She chased our eleven-year-old poodle around the house so much that he would bite her to try to get her to stop. She was unafraid and relentless so I knew we had to find a solution because telling her to STOP was just not working. I didn’t want her to get hurt and since the poodle was much older, she was wearing him out.
I don’t like crates and have never used one when training a puppy so I came up with my own solution. If it sounds cruel, remember it was much kinder than crating her and it was a fast way to slow her down gently.
I found a big box and put her favorite blanket and toys inside. When the poodle had had enough of the rough housing, I would tell Ms. Skeeter, “Time Out.”
That meant nothing at all to her, but then I would place her in the open box for several minutes and repeat “Time Out.”
I stood beside the box where she could see me and she was in the box for a very short time, usually several minutes. It only took a few days for her to learn what “Time Out” meant and she was quite happy to see the box get folded and put away.
Now if I say “Time Out,” she stops and looks at me to see if I mean it. When I repeat it firmly, she comes over to me and lies down beside me for a little while.
I have also learned that sometimes all she wants is love and attention, so the other calm down method I use is to pick her up and speaking softly, I pet her for a few minutes.
My groomer taught me to use the softer voice because my calmness actually calms her rather than agitating her and it is true, yelling at her to STOP just made her more excited because she interprets STOP as GO!
The last part of my calm down process involves daily walks, at least one, usually after supper. We walk at a fast pace for about fifteen minutes and the structured exercise goes a long way toward settling her down for the evening. It took several weeks to teach her to walk on the leash because she wanted to run free outside and she didn’t understand her limits. I kept the leash short and taught her to walk beside me instead of in front of me and as she learned to obey, I let more and more of the leash out, giving her more freedom. Our walks have become fun instead of madcap adventures and the exercise is good for me.
Ms. Skeeter is an adorable, loveable little dog and she makes me laugh everyday as I watch her play with the poodle, who weighs almost eighteen pounds. She dances in front of him, barking at him to get up to play with her and they are so cute together. They run, wrestle, play tug of war with the toys, fake bite each other and just have a blast. Her enthusiasm for life has the poodle acting like a puppy again and he loves running around the house with her.
However, teaching her to take a “Time Out,” is what made their friendship possible and it is the reason she has become a much-loved addition to our family.

Why I Miss The Boy

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As told by Peggy Sue to Jeanne Marie
I know that my owners were overjoyed when their last child left the nest. Still, I wish that they’d asked my opinion before they let him move out. I may be just a dog, but I have feelings too.
The boy came by the house to visit last Sunday and it was then that I realized just how much I’ve missed him, him and his big, sweaty tennis shoes.
While he was busy talking to Dad, I casually strolled over to the rug near the front door where the boy had politely left his shoes.
I stuck my head, well almost my whole body, in one of them. I rolled all around on the floor with his shoe and the odor brought back such fond memories.
I remember when the boy and I first met. He was very young when I joined the family and quite a handful. I used to help Mom with his discipline. I didn’t mind. I was glad to help. When she’d yell at him, I’d chase his rascally butt right into his room, nipping at his heels for good measure.
We also had two girls. One lived in Boston, but the other one always said, “Yes Mom, okay Mom.” What she did was another story, but at least she pretended obedience and I never had to chase and snip her. However, she did give me a few exciting nights when she tried to sneak out her bedroom window and inadvertently set off the burglar alarm. When Mom checked on her and saw her “sleeping” in her bed, I uncovered the hoax with some strong barking at the foot of the girl’s bed. Mom caught on real quick. She unrolled the covers and sure enough, the girl was fully clothed. The girl was somewhat boring except for her repeated attempts to beat the alarm. (She was a slow learner.)
On the plus side, she did share her yogurt with me and she scratched my head with her long fingernails while she watched the soaps.
But the boy? Oh, he was such fun, a human ball of energy! A stick of dynamite waiting for a match! Running through the house, going in and out, in and out! Me, chasing and barking all the while!
Sometimes I’ve gone too far, I have to admit it. I did bite him on the eyelid once.
Then, one time when he was being hollered at, I jumped up to bite him for emphasis. I caught hold of a piece of his shorts and if I had caught him just one-inch closer…well, let’s just say that I could’ve endangered his future fatherhood, if you get my drift!
I hung on; unsure of the protocol required in this situation while Mom rolled on the floor laughing. Finally, I realized that she was saying, “Let go Peggy-Sue, let go!” So I did, no harm done.
Sometimes the boy was nice to me. I remember when I took a stuffed Donkey Kong off his bed and I adopted him as my own. The boy said, “Let her keep it Mom, I don’t want it after Peggy-Sue messed with it. And they look so happy together.” I have tears in my eyes just thinking about his generosity.
One day, as he lay on the floor watching cartoons, I paused to take a bite out of his apple. He just laughed and called out, “Mom, come see Peggy, she’s so cute!” He thought I was cute!
The last few years that we had him were the best. I adored the way he would come in at all hours of the night. The way that it allowed me to wake up Mom and Dad with my insane barking. (Mom’s description.)
Nights can be very lonely for a poodle, what with sleeping all day, so I’d just lie on the bed and wait for a good excuse. The boy would turn the key ever so quietly and shut the door softly. But I didn’t care.
“YIP, YIP, YIP,” I’d shout out, using my “stranger\danger” bark to get the full effect.
Then, the mutt the folks had bought to keep me company, Charlie, would join in the ruckus.
Dad would yell at the boy and Mom would yell at Dad. “The damn dogs woke you up, not the boy!” and the whole house would be lit up like Christmas morning!
Just when Mom and Dad would start to fall back to sleep, the boy would tiptoe out to the kitchen for a drink and the whole thing would start all over again.
“YIP, YIP, YIP!” Soon as things quieted down again, his phone would ring. Third time around, I was pushing it, so any noise the boy made after that-I had to let it slide. Ah, how I loved those noisy nights.
Another favorite time was when the boy’s friends knocked at the door. I got some good barking mileage from them. His girlfriend was a special delight to chase from the front door to his room and then I’d catch her again on her way out. I knew she was scared of me and that made me feel like a guard dog, tough and strong.
I even miss the arguments that the boy and Dad used to get into. Those were great times for starting up a storm of barking. I’d run around them in circles, yipping to my heart’s content, taking first one side and then the other, as I tried to mediate. Although they never seemed to appreciate my efforts, I like to think that my participation often helped them work out a quicker settlement.
Now when the boy comes over, no one fights and the boy acts so different. I hardly know him. Saying weird stuff like “yes, ma’am” and “no, sir,” to the folks. His shoes smell the same, but I think that maybe he’s a man now. That could explain his strange behavior.
Dad and Mom are so hum drum. I can see their Golden Years coming fast. Most nights they sleep right through until morning. Thankfully, a fierce thunderstorm or a strange car door wakes them up now and then.
Without the boy, I just lie here and think of the good old nights. How much of a racket we used to make…
I never realized that he was moving out; although, I should’ve caught on when I saw him take a pile of boxes from his room to his car and then he carried out his bed. When he didn’t come back that night, I realized, I’d lost the boy.
There’ll never be another pair of shoes that excited me like his did.
We were quite a team. That’s why I miss the boy.
I think Mom misses him too because her eyes were dripping when she typed this story.