A Week of Love - Part 1

Today, I am going to start a very ambitious challenge.

I am going to post every day for a week.

I know, right? Really? Every day for an ENTIRE week? Because so far you can barely manage once a month.

Well, NOT today sister! I am determined to do this, and to inspire me I have dubbed this week "Love Week".

Those of you who know me know that I am a hopeless romantic. Wall-E is my favorite movie, not only because space and robots are cool, but because it's an endearing love story about two robots who go green.

So my hopeless romanticism has been spring loaded by Valentine's Day yesterday, and I have decided to dedicate the entire week to a concept that might get a bad rap this time of year.

Today's theme is: I love YOU! Yes you. Because I know there is someone out there (and please note I am not specifying romantic love, it can be any kind) that you LOVE. You see them, and you smile because you can't help it and you just want to go be by that person and maybe even do something crazy like give them a hug or make a high-pitched squealing sound.

With that said, here is my inspirational I love YOU! story for the day:


When Max was a baby, he had to go to the vet. Not because he had inhaled a squeaker, or eaten his collar, no, this was just a routine check-up to get some shots.

But this particular occasion happened to be his very first trip to the vet. Ever. It was also only his second trip in a car. Ever.

If you've met Max, I'm sure you can imagine the high level of uncertainty, confusion, and periodic terror that accompanied this unknown voyage. Especially because he was allocated to the back of my dad's car. His first car ride had been a cozy affair in which his saintly buns did not even touch the seat, let alone the floor, of the car. He traveled securely wrapped in my and my sister's arms receiving ample kisses and murmurings of "Good Boy! Aren't you cute??? We're going to have so much fun, you'll just love our back yard!"

I have to admit, if my first trip in a car was that relaxing, I probably would have been just as displeased as Max was to be gently, but firmly, placed in the back of a car on a rubber mat. It resulted in a pretty instantaneous and consistent whimpering that probably would have broken even Dick Cheney's heart. Perhaps literally. It was pretty high pitched.

Luckily for our sanity, Ruby was also due for some booster shots, and was accompanying Max in the back of the car. About half way through the drive to the vet clinic, Max pulled his trembling, nervous little self together enough to make it to the safety of a vast cave of fur when he secured a spot sitting between Ruby's front paws.

Yes, Max had become a little Matryoshka doll, completely encased underneath Ruby who was calmly seated and staring down at Max with slight confusion and a little more concern. At this point in the ride, Ruby bent down and gave Max a big smooch on the top of his head.

The transformation was shocking. Not only was this smooch met with a glorious end to the high-pitched squeal, but Max actually began to wag his tail!

How Ruby's affection calmed Max so quickly is a bit of a mystery since it wasn't like the super cute mommy giraffe kissing her baby giraffe picture we all know and love, but more like the sucking kiss of a Dementor since his head became momentarily lodged in Ruby's mouth when we went over a bump in the road.

It's possible that emerging from a dark space, covered in slime, brought his back to his early childhood days, but I like to this that on that fateful day, Max was saved emotional trauma by LOVE. It didn't matter any longer where they were going, or why his tiny bottom was being bounced around the back of a moving vehicle. Ruby loved him and he was content to go with her where ever that may be, and has been ever since.

So my darling readers, this is one reason why I thing that love should be celebrated for it's capabilities to heal even our most deep-seated insecurities and fears. So go enjoy Valentine's Day Part 2 and tell someone I love YOU!

A Cure for the Valentine’s Day Blues!

For those of you who believe Valentine’s Day is a consumerist conspiracy targeting weak-minded or sappy individuals, and conning them into purchasing mass quantities of chocolate, roses, greeting cards and lingere……alright, fine, you may have a point.

BUT! I would also like you consider that it’s not Valentine’s Day itself that is the culprit, but the way we choose to celebrate it. What’s so terrible about having one day a year when we can say “I love you!” to that special someone?

And I don’t just mean for those of you currently seeing someone. I mean ANY special someone. Someone who brings joy into your life whether it’s family, friends, or that guy who got on your bus the other day wearing an outfit that would put Cee Lo’s Elmo-inspired Grammy suit to shame. (Or don’t tell that guy…I guess it depends on how attached you are to having all your fingers.)

To illustrate my point I would like to bring to your attention two of the most enamored individuals I know:

They don’t need cards, flowers or fancy dinners to make an impression. It’s been love from first wag for these two.

So maybe we all just need to take a step back and remember that it’s the simple, every day gestures, like a full body slam followed by a vicious display of teeth and ending in gentle kisses, that show someone how much you care.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Locked Out

The other day, Max locked my entire family out of the house. I know, I know, I’m sure you’re all as puzzled as we were as to how he managed it.

Well, Max has this toy. It’s a neon green rubber bone that he loves to carry around in his mouth much like a rich old businessman would carry his cigar.

Only less angry.

The whole Smith family was going out the front door to have a grand old time at the Lakeville movie theater. Max, rubber bone in mouth, stared sadly out the window alongside the door as we drove off down the street.

Two and a half hours and one bucket of popcorn later, we returned home with the leftovers to give to Ruby and Max. (They are great popcorn fiends.) My sister unlocked the door and managed to open it an inch before it stopped. The Smith family ceased its chatter as we stared, puzzled, at the door. My sister gave it another tentative push. Nothing. 

While we struggled, pushed and wiggled the stuck door, Max and Ruby stared at us out the window, happily wagging their tails like this was the best game we had ever invented. As our frustration continued, their glee only increased until they were bounding around like two spring loaded jumping beans.

Finally, we had the sense to use the key pad on the garage door open the garage door and get in that way. It took us entirely too long and involved a lot of…

Now, wait a minute wait a minute wait a minute…what’s the code again?

I just told you the code.

I KNOW, but the door didn’t open.

Did you press the up and down button?

*Scathing look* Of COURSE I pushed the button.

Well, try it again.

*Tries again  with definite up/down button pushing*

*Door opens*

Huh…well, I guess I maybe didn’t push the button.

Five minutes later, we’re all finally inside the house and go to investigate what made our door stick. It turns out that after we had left, Max somehow managed to wedge his neon green bone in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. Much like one of those brown wedge-shaped door stops. But neon green. And bone-shaped. And pointing in the wrong direction.

We came to the conclusion that Max was upset we had left him behind when we went to the movie, and after many hugs, kisses, and a solemn promise to never see anything starring Robert Pattenson* without him again, we could sleep safe in the knowledge that we would no longer be locked out of our own house by man’s best friend.

*I don’t actually think the movie had R-Patz in it, but I image that would be Max’s favorite actor. He does have voluminous hair, and sparkles in the sunlight. What more can a guy ask for?

You're Being Watched...

You may be under the impression that because Ruby and Max are large, they make great watch dogs.

Not so.

In our house there are many terrifying things, things you need protection from. A chair might fall over, for example.  Sometimes my mom decides to use the swiffer on our kitchen floor (absolutely petrifying). Or sometimes, on those rare occasions of both a full moon and Friday the 13^th, the Laminated-Sheet-Of-Paper monster will rear it’s ugly head.

These are all things that people need protection from.

So why, with all these daily horrors, would Max and Ruby need to guard us against something as insignificant as a stranger at the front door? Daily life at the Smith house is so frightening, package delivery people, handymen (or women), and that creepy guy you hired to clean out your vents are greeted with enthusiastic tail wagging.

Or just this:

Whichever the case may be, I think it’s safe to say that the only way a burglar or ax murderer will be prevented from entering our house in the middle of the night is if Ruby falls asleep in front of the door. Once she’s out, she’s a hard lady to move.

Ruby's Employed!

For anyone who hasn’t yet heard, Ruby is now a certified therapy dog. Instead of spending her free time face-planting Max into snow drifts, she now visits a local schools and libraries and reads with kids from Kindergarten to 3^rd grade. In exchange for helping these children practice their literacy, she gets to lie around and listen to stories all afternoon. Sweet deal, right?

You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no one could have foreseen the unfortunate consequences of the events previous to story time….BATH TIME!!!!!

Now, for Ruby this isn’t a big deal. She is a Newfoundland after all, and couldn’t be more at home in the water if she’d been adopted by a pack of wild frogs when she was a puppy. For Ruby, bath time is not an issue. It’s Max who still has nightmares.

As I’m sure many of you know, with siblings, what you do for one, you have to do for the other or life is a horrible, unfair, temper tantrum day. Well, same thing goes for pet owners. You can’t really give one dog a bath and leave the other to frolic joyfully in his masculine odors, which is how Max and Ruby ended up at the doggie beauty parlor.

Everything was going smoothly, so we were told, until the groomer discovered a large amount of matting near Max’s derriere. No amount of combing could untangle these knots, and Max was beginning to get pretty anxious by the time his stylist arrived at the last resort.

Shave the mats out.

A necessary, yet desperate measure, Max’s buns were now exposed to the sub zero weather of last week. As a result, whenever he absolutely HAD to go to the bathroom (and trust me, he could hold out for a while) we would open the door so he could sprint outside, piddle as quickly as possible and come charging back up the stairs to bang on the door and scream bloody murder because his humps were frozen.

But, this story does have a happy ending. After the trauma of BATH TIME Max now enjoys many nights warming his buns by the fire and sampling popcorn while watching a little reality TV before dozing off and dreaming sweet dreams of furry underpants.

Oh dear me!

Another month gap between posts! I'm so sorry, but the holidays totally got to me this year.

First there was fighting over the bargains on Black Friday




Wrapping Christmas presents...unwrapping Christmas presents...




And of course there's New Years Day morning...who even remembers that!?




So I hope you'll forgive my poor blogging habits! It's my resolution to do better in the future!

And thanks to the lovely Tom for the super cute pictures!

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

And so is my history with blogging.

To appease you all I offer the following tidings of comfort and joy:

Go see Hairy Potter, in theaters now!





We promise it will be better than Batdog: Return of the Sassy Puss.


And finally:




You better get to bed or Santa will never come!