I’ve been thinking about working on a little writing project for awhile.  I started it last week, and thus far the time I’ve been spending on it has taken away somewhat from the blogging.

So I’m officially taking a hiatus.  I haven’t had many readers for some time now, so I think about about 15 people will care.  Plus, I’ve been known to take a hiatus without reason or warning, so this post right here should be considered a special treat. 

Hopefully I’ll see you soon!


I love you

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m posting the story of our first “I love you,” as told to a dear friend who asked me about it not long ago.

Joel…I still sometimes lose focus when I think about Joel.  Have I ever told you about the first time we said, “I love you”?  I had realized it almost a month earlier when we were having dinner with his parents. It was my first time to meet them, and when the wine got to the table Joel poured my glass, then his mom’s, then his dad’s, then his. I don’t know why, but that little gesture hit me hard, and I thought, “My gosh, I love this guy.” It was strange, but it was powerful.

So I sat on this feeling for about a month, doing the same thing as you – there were several times I almost blew it and just told him, but I wasn’t sure it was time.

One night we were sitting on my couch. We had just finished watching a movie, and I think I had my head in his lap. It was probably close to 1am or something like that. In those days he seldom left my apartment before midnight. I was once again telling him that I didn’t understand why he liked me so much. It still baffles me, but he thinks I’m the greatest thing ever.

“But I guess that’s kind of like God’s love for me. I don’t understand that, either.

“I mean…not that you love me. It’s just…similar.”

We sat in silence for what felt like an hour, but was probably a minute, then I popped up and said, “You want coffee?” I was embarassed and just wanted a minute to recover, and as I walked from the living room to the kitchen I felt Joel grab my arm and turn me around. He cupped my face in his hands, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, “I love you.”

I promptly started sobbing. In between gasps for air I said, “I love you, too, and I have for a month, and I didn’t want to say it, and I didn’t mean to say that about God’s love, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to force you, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, blah blah, blather, cry, I love you, blah blah blah.”

I’m sure we kissed or something after that, and I know he went home shortly thereafter. But that’s how it happened.

Dear Bentley, part three

RE: the incident from last week

Well, little man, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you’ve been spending quite a bit more time in your crate these last few days.  You don’t seem to mind.  In fact, more than once you’ve crawled in on your own, turned around, and looked at us as though to ask, “please, just shut this door and give me some peace.” 

What you might not have realized, however, is the connection between this new imprisonment and the incident from last week. 

The incident, as you may remember, involved you and your brudder Finn destroying a good portion of our house while your papa and I were out earning money to pay for your grain-free food and ridiculous veterinary bills.

You remember, right?

You have to see this from our prospective, B.  Imagine, if you will, what it’s like to work all day long…wait, you can’t imagine that, can you?  Hmm…imagine spending all day, all day, trying to get the plastic squeaker out of one of those stuffed birds I bought you a few weeks ago.  Okay, you’re there?  You have the mental picture?  Imagine wrapping up that task after eight hours and heading into your crate for a nap only to find that Finn had pooped all over your blankets and eaten all your W-2s.

The thing I don’t get is why it was only our tax information.  You couldn’t have taken care of the junk mail or the alumni magazines, or better yet our bills, because heaven knows they would have sent us another copy.  It had to be the one thing on the table that was going to get us more money.  We are, of course, grateful that you avoided the computer reimbursement check from Papa’s employer.

We are also grateful that when you overturned the remote control basket on the coffee table you neglected to use any of them as a chew toy.

We are less grateful that you found the ink pen in that same basket and used it as a chew toy instead.

Which reminds me: how did all of that ink end up in our carpet and none of it on your face, paws, mouth, or teeth?

The cherry on the top of this mess of a sundae had to be the four little presents you and brudder left throughout the house.  We’ve come to expect that from Finn, of course.  He’s still trying to figure out this relatively huge “dog house” he’s found himself in, but you…you know better.  And don’t try to tell me it was all him, because 1) he doesn’t have that many piles in him, and 2) by now, quite unfortunately, we can tell the difference between your poops.

Finn seems to have taught you several bad habits, Little Rooster.  Let me take this opportunity to remind you that you should not be jumping onto the dining room table, kitchen counters, living room end tables, middle seats of the Land Rover, or hallway chairs. 

Until all this went down, I was hesitant to leave you crated up all day.  I know, it’s silly, because you would just sleep all day anyway if Finn wasn’t there to harass you.  I know this because I spent a month setting up the puppy cam each morning before I decided there was no need to watch your hourly ritual of standing up and turning in a circle before going back to your napping.

I’ll admit that you and Finn both seem a little happier now that you’re getting a daily six-hour nap.  I think neither of you can resist the lure of playtime when you’re left alone together, and it was wearing you out.  You both seemed cranky by the time we got home, and I think if you could talk you would have spent the first 45-minutes of our arrival tattling on Finn for stealing your sock or hogging the green ball.  And not only are you getting your beauty sleep, but you also get a Kong and a bone each morning, which probably puts your perpetually-empty Beagle tummy over the moon, right?

And we’re no longer cleaning up pooh every evening, which puts us over the moon, too.