Fourteen!

Somebody had a birthday today.

Rumor has it that she’s 14 years old. That’s about 72 in human years. 

It’s hard to be 14, but it’s even harder to be 14 and little. With a big (as in large) sister who wants to play with you. All the dang time. And you’ve never wanted to play with another dog in your whole life.

When you’re 14 and little, the world is a big, big place. EEP!

When you’re 14 and little, you don’t wanna traipse around the stupid lake in the cold. You just wanna go home and snuggle up with a warm blanket. Or a furry sister.

When you’re 14 and little, you expect to be treated with dignity and respect, not photographed with your ears flapping in the wind.

When you’re 14 and little, you certainly don’t expect to go outside into the snow – especially without a coat!

When you’re 14 and little and sleep with your mommy because you cry and cry and cry if you have to sleep by yourself, you might have forgotten that “puppy in the window.”

But she hasn’t forgotten you!

Happy birthday, Phoebster!  May the next year of your life be filled with puppy-in-the-window adventures!

A Christmas wish for you

In the wonder of Christmas,
may you find peace.
In the beauty of Christmas,
may you find hope.
In the love of Christmas,
may you find joy.

My girls and I wish you a joyous holiday!

Merry Christmas!

Wordless Wednesday: Glimmer of hope

Wordless Wednesday: Faith, becoming

A pup-date, kitten-style

Some good news!

Miss Chipmunk Cheeks does not have heart disease! Yay!! She has turbulent blood flow in her right ventricle. The cardiologist said it’s not a cause for concern.

And we all breathed a sigh of relief! Okay, I breathed a sigh of relief. Jool was completely unconcerned about anything except eating because “you know they didn’t feed me at the vet clinic, Mom!”

Ahem. Yes, Jujubes, I do know they “didn’t feed” you. Yeah. Okay. We’ll go with that.

And then some not-so-good news

The Buglet, on the other hand? Well, we still don’t know. Her thyroid test result was in that lovely “gray area.” More concerning, though, was that her calcium level was elevated. That’s often a sign of cancer.

She went back to the vet today for more tests: more blood drawn for a different thyroid test (free T4, for those of you keeping score at home) and X-rays of her entire body to look for tumors. 

Bless those vet techs’ hearts! I really feel for them. To say that Catherine the Great is not a good patient is putting it ever so mildly. I fear they got a taste of my little Tasmanian devil today!

We’re encouraged that there were no tumors on the X-rays…but that means we still don’t know why her calcium level was too high. There may be more tests in her future.

I guess I should trim Katie’s nails so she can’t completely rip a vet tech to shreds when she gets fed up with being poked and prodded!

Meanwhile, back on the ranch…

The cooler weather has the girls making laps around the back yard like they were running the Indy 500. With puppy tackles instead of spectacular crashes, thank goodness. Although I have to say, the puppy tackles are pretty spectacular!

Jool stormed the door when I got home, running outside as I was coming in with Katie. I can just picture her: “Heeeeyyy…Mom’s got Katie’s crate in one hand and a purse and a bag in the other. No way she will think to block me from zipping outside for some fresh air!” ZOOM!!

Since a) it was already dark outside, b) I saw the neighborhood coyote one street over as I was rounding the corner, and c) my sweet little calico kitty practically glows in the dark, I tracked down the flashlight (WHY is the flashlight NEVER where it’s supposed to be??) and hunted that little girl down. Surprisingly, she made it easy for me. There must’ve been coyote scent in the air.

(And then I put the flashlight back in the flashlight drawer. Amen.)

And right now? Well, Ginny’s got the itchy-butt and is wallowing all over the sofa and growling at it. Her itchy-butt, not the sofa. That girl, she’s always good for a laugh!

Waiting

In a holding pattern. Waiting. Not-knowing. These are things I’m not very good at.

Waiting on test results makes me alternately anxious and cranky. I imagine worst-case scenarios, my mind a wild, undisciplined child on a sugar high soaring up-up-up. The inevitable spectacular crash follows. With tears. Lots and lots of tears.

But wait is all I can do.

Wait on the cardiologist’s review of Jool’s echocardiogram.

Wait on Katie’s blood test results. (Is she a good dieter, or is she sick??)

Just wait.

And trust.

Because you don’t belong to me.

And neither do you.

God has trusted me to care for you, to love you, to make sure you have plenty of dogs to torment and things to rip to shreds. But only for a little while.

However long that little while is, I’ll take it.

Wordless Wednesday: Jool’s opinion of our doggie guest