Love at First Sight

There are better reasons to buy a house, really.   I bought a house in order to get a dog.

When I moved to Hawaii I sold one house in Atlanta and began renting another one on Maui.  I knew when I signed the lease that they didn't allow pets of any kind (there must have been a proviso in the rental agreement however, that allowed for 5000 geckos to live under my porch - but that's another story).   I figured once I moved in I'd approach the landlord and, seeing as I was such a responsible pay the rent on-time kinda tenant, I was sure they'd let me have a pet.

But no.  The landlords were the kind of heartless, animal-of-any-kind hating type of people.  They were afraid of fleas.  As if any dog of mine would have the nerve to have fleas.  After much cajoling and even coercing, they would not relent.  So no dog for me at 158 Hiwalani Place - no way, no how.

When my lease was up for renewal I opted to give notice and went on a house hunt.  I was living alone on an island in the middle of the Pacific, 5,000 miles from my closest family and without hardly any friends.  I wanted a dog DAMMIT and if I had to buy a house to get a dog, then that's what I was going to do.

I closed on my little Haiku plantation house on a Thursday and on Friday, before I was completely unpacked and moved in, I was at the Maui Humane Society searching for a little dog to adopt, to help make my house a home.  The pound was jammed packed with dogs and  I peeked into each pen for a little puppy to take home, thoroughly expecting a large selection to choose from.  But not on that day.  On that Friday they only had large dogs available and I was hell bent that I was bringing home a dog, and with nary a second thought I switched my plan to bring home a dog that day, regardless of size or breed.

I turned a corner and there he was - a beautiful brown dog, a Lab or?  He was in a pen with his partner in crime.  They had been caught wandering up-country, not the first time the dynamic duo escaped their owner's yard, but it was the last time the Humane Society would return the dogs to this house of neglect.   The two dogs had been at the pound for about a month when I happened upon them.

I stopped for a moment outside their pen and spoke to them briefly.  One came right up to the fence, sniffing my outstretched hands (looking for treats no doubt) and quietly wagging his tail.  I was still of the mind that I wanted a small dog, so I moved on.  But as I toured the rest of the pens I could sense someone watching me.  Turning around, it was the brown dog...following me with his big golden eyes.  Every step I took, he watched.  Every dog I spoke to, he was looking on, as if he were saying:  I've picked you and as soon as you've finished window shopping you'll come back here and take me right home where I belong. 

I have often said over the 9 years since that fateful day that it was his eyes that got me.  He followed me with his eyes, imploring me to come back to him, to take him home, to give him a better life.  Every day I look into those soulful eyes and think there was more than a dog rescued that day...

How to Annoy Me

Be belligerent and insubordinate and then expect me to improve your grade.  Oh ya, that'll work.

Musings

If I hadn't had the very life sucked from me yesterday & today I could actually write something interesting, intelligent and/or amusing.  Alas, Internet you will be deeply disappointed.  Instead, I will simply leave you with this week's sale fliers to thumb through.  Enjoy.  I hope to have some life back tomorrow.

Musings, Meandering & Holy Crap Exciting!

So, it may sound a bit narcissistic, but I did a Google search this morning on my blog's name Musings & Meandering because, frankly I was curious about how visible my blog is on the internet.  AND GUESS WHAT???  My blog (Musings & Meanderings) is ranked number 6 in the Google search box for (wait for it) Musings & Meanderings!

I'm slowly (oh so slowly) figuring out this whole internet visibility thing and SEO thing (that's search engine optimization thing) and I think I've finally figured out that the more I update my blog, the greater visibility it has and the greater visibility it has, the bigger my audience will become.

And that audience is now up to 11!  That's right, people!  I have now gone DOUBLE DIGIT!  Ah, it makes me feel so validated that there are at least 11 (yes 11!!) people that read this blog!

I will update later with something more interesting for my 11 readers to peruse, but there are STARVING DOGS who can TELL TIME that need to be fed.  Have a great day and thank you for reading Musings & Meanderings!

Examples of The Previously Mentioned Starving Dog Kryptonite Stare

The Daily Dance

The dance I refer to is not to be confused with the "Pull-ups Potty Dance" - the most insipid of all insipid TV commercials.  You know the one I'm talking about?  "Put your left hand out, put the right on top, shake 'em together and do the potty dance - whoop whoop!" - AS IF doing this stupid dance to the most insipid tune ever will somehow entice a small child to ask to go potty. I've never toilet trained a small child, but I'm just saying - I don't think this song & dance number is the way to go.

No, the dance I'm talking about is the nightly jig that starts somewhere between 4:30 and 6:00.  EVERY NIGHT.  I have no idea how my big, brown, beastly boy knows what time it is, but he does somehow.  He's very clever that way.  Not that he wears a watch or reads digital numbers from the stove or anything.  But every night between the prescribed hours of 4:30 & 6:00 he starts his dance.  The first act of this three part number is a little random pacing back and forth between wherever I am and his dinner bowl.   "I'm just checking to see if you realize that there are starving dogs on PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND?"  

 

Sometimes the bowl and I are in the same room, but often we're not, resulting in the incessant tap-tap-tapping of dog claws on hardwood and/or ceramic tile.  Back and forth.  BACK.  AND.  FORTH.  There is nothing quite so nerve-grating as that tap-tap-tap, unless of course it's the mini tap-tap-tapping of his canine sibling, who has now joined the gig and is tap-tap-tapping alongside him.

A brief respite while he relaxes between sets in his bed - where he has been instructed to go - BED!  NOW!  And I mean brief respite - maybe 1, 1.5 minutes.  And then it begins all over again. The second set of his act has a creative flair to it.  I call it the I Will Bore Holes in the Side of Your Head with My Kryptonite Stare Until There is Food in My Dish! part of the act.  Honest to God, this dog can stare without blinking for 10 minutes straight.  It's a wonder he isn't walleyed.

Act three starts with a fake-out request to go outside - "PSYCH!  Didn't need to go outside at all, but when I come in the magic food fairy will have visited my bowl - I JUST KNOW IT!"  Clearly by act three he is famished beyond all recognition, having shed 48 of his 50 lbs in the mere act of dancing for his dinner.  I know, I am a hateful dog owner and should not be allowed to keep one, let alone two animals. 

But here's the thing.  My big brown beastly boy was a rescue dog.  His first owner starved him - daily.  The trauma of spending his first 10 months of life never knowing if he would ever be fed again has scarred him in ways I couldn't imagine when I brought him home 10 years ago.   We've survived 10 years together where he has been fed two meals a day, plus anything he could steal  from kitchen counters, garbage cans and tables, not to mention countless bags of Snausages monthly and STILL he doesn't remember that in our home there will always be food for a big brown beastly boy.   Some would say he has issues, and I'd be the first one to agree.  But even with all his neurosis (and there are many) I wouldn't trade him for all the little Australian Silkies in the world.

Musings

I wonder how big the sweater would be that I would knit from all the hair you leave on my floor.