Hey! Maddie here!
Would you believe it’s another rainy morning at the lake. This has been the weirdest winter. Hardly any warm sunshine here at Lake Blackshear. And when mom went away for a year last week and left us with dad, she came back (finally) and told us there wasn’t a lot of snow on Mackinac Island. What’s up with that!
Anyway, I’ve been wanting to write for a while now, and today mom said, “Ok, Madster, it’s your turn!” You won’t believe what all I’ve been saving up to tell you – you will probably have to read this one over and over again so you don’t miss anything!
On Mom’s Fancy Talk
Mom and dad were sitting on the sun porch this morning with their coffee, and mom said she was changing the name of where they were sitting to the rain porch. Mom talked about watching the rain move in a silent sheet across the lake to our side of the river. She said the sunrise they watched earlier was beautiful, but all the clouds were an omen of what was waiting just east of us. This is how mom talks when she is thinking about how to “flower” up her blog writing. Why doesn’t she just say, “The sun came up, there were some clouds, and then it rained.” Good grief.
On Asking To Go Out
On days like today, me and the big, shaggy dog go stir crazy. When it rains, we can’t go in and out 50 times an hour, and I miss all the fun of mom and dad jumping up and down at my slightest command. I can get them up a lot faster than Goofy (I’ve tried to teach him how to do it, but he is just too “cultured”). What I do is go to the door and whine. It took me about three months to perfect my whine to just the right pitch and volume so that one of them will instantly spring to his/her feet – just to keep me from doing it again. They rush to the door and let me out. I go down the stairs off the deck, check out the yard for anything that might be moving in the grass, then (if nothing is stirring), I run back up the stairs, sit at the back door and . . . whine. Oh, and here’s a new twist I’ve added lately. I whine to come back in, they come to the door, open it and then . . . are you ready . . . I walk away like I don’t even see them and make a little tour around the deck before coming BACK to the door. Drives them NUTS!
Goldie, on the other hand, is just so refined that he wouldn’t dream of making mom and dad get in a hurry. Here’s his “gotta go out” routine. He slowly gets up and stretches for about a minute (no doubt thinking that should be a good clue that he is “on the move”). Then he will go to the back door and sit there . . . silently . . . . sit there . . . . silently. After about five minutes, if mom and dad haven’t looked up from their books (which they never do), the hairy dog will turn from the door, walk back into the room, look at each one of them pointedly, turn back around, and go back to the door. Where he will sit . . . silently. After he makes about five trips back and forth, one of them will finally look up and say, “Oh, Bear, do you need to go out?” My way is a LOT more fun!
If Mom ever catches me in a deep sleep, she will try to smuggle the big-headed boy his favorite stuffed toy. Let me back up. It is his only stuffed toy – a big hedgehog named Stitch (cause mom had to stitch it up after I ripped open its mouth). Doofus learned approximately 3.2 minutes after he arrived at our house two years ago that he would never, never have the pleasure of carrying around a stuffed toy of any kind. Not for him will ever come the joy of resting his head on a soft monkey or frog or hippo filled to capacity with soft and mushy comfort (good grief, I sound like mom!). Anyway, Dumbo came to a house occupied by a stuffed toy killer – me.
I live to destroy toys – any toy – but my favorite targets are the stuffed ones. Mom and dad used to buy me really expensive stuffed animals (before Bear) – you know the ones like from Orvis, which they claim to be indestructible. What a joke! Give me five minutes, and it’s history!
So today I was pretending to be asleep in dad’s lap in the den, and mom goes and gets Stitch out of the laundry room. Furball stretches out on the rain porch and starts loving on Stitch like a big wimp. I planned my attack, came around the corner (hiding behind that stupid metal cat), grabbed Stitch, and was back in the den before Furface even raised his head!
Of course, mom took Stitch away from me two seconds later, and put him back up, before she had to start calling him ReStitch. But I had accomplished my goal. I got him away from the Golden One, and he had to go back to his plain old rubber football.
Tug of War
Now I know that I always sound like I don’t like my big brother – but that’s really not true. There are one or two things he’s really good at. The best one is Tug of War. Oh man! We both LOVE that game. We like the competition, but mostly we like it because mom and dad could watch us at it for HOURS. And when we get mom and dad’s undivided attention, we play it for all it’s worth. What happens is this. I will go pick up one of the stuffed toys that I have already unstuffed. There are lots of them around here. I start at the nose, chew a big hole, pull out the squeaker, and then pull all the stuffing out through the head.
Once I’ve chosen the “tug of war animal of the hour”, I strut over to the Bear Boy and jiggle it in front of his face. It never fails! He immediately jumps up and takes the other end in his mouth. GAME ON!
After a hard day of play and me trying to teach the Goofball a few new tricks, we relax into our own private spa before bedtime.
It’s been a good day at the ri’vah. Bear and I try to tell mom and dad all the time that on these lazy, rainy days when they can’t go outside and play, there are always things they can do in the house – they could practice their whining until they get it perfect, they could try unstuffing the couch, and there is always tug of war! And if all that fails – a little ear washing, eye massage, and smooching always improves your spirits. Seriously!
Friday will be our next recipe day, and we’re going to feature Appetizers. So please go through all your cookbooks, and email me your favorite “finger food” recipes. I need to receive them by Thursday afternoon to have them ready by Friday. Email them to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The next post to this blog will be Thursday morning. Our overnight company who was coming last Thursday night had to postpone his trip because of our snow storm. He will be here Tuesday night, and we are taking him out to eat. See you Thursday morning right back here! Love ya’ll!
“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.” . . . Author Unknown