An Addendum to the Annotated Alliteration

Garden...

Here's what's popping up in the garden lately:

Gunner...
I never considered myself a "dog person". When I was growing up we had a dog here and there. I liked them enough to feed them and care when something happened to them but that was about it. Since then,  I would politely acknowledge people's dogs when they came bounding up to me--licking and smelling with reckless abandon--only because I know people love their dogs and I would not want to treat them with disdain. Or disgust. But that was before I decided we needed a dog. I thought Shane needed some unconditional love and companionship. He got left at the bottom of the pecking order in our big family and he had no one to pester and play with. It was strictly a motherly, child development decision.

 I didn't plan to get attached. But, somehow he became my new best friend--I followed the Dog Whisperer's instructions so well, I have become the Alpha to our puppy friend. He follows me everywhere and when he looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, it kind of melts my dog-indifferent heart. So now my favorite workout is taking Gunner for a "walk". I think we are going for a walk, he has his own plans. He used to charge up the driveway and tear through the front gate with me doing my best to keep a tight grip on the leash. He was so excited about the change of scenery, he was running and sniffing and yanking my arm with abrupt starts and stops. But this is not the way of the Dog Whisperer. I am to exude "calm assertive". I am to make my dog respect me and walk beside me. And after some hard work and a pocketful of treats, I did get him to stay near me and walk forward. But that got to be old and boring. We get to the top of the driveway and he sniffs the air. "Been there done that" is his attitude and he turns around and heads back to the house. I am determined to get him some exercise so I persist. I tug and pull and cajole until I get him a few houses down the street. Suddenly, he picks up the pace so I jog a little thinking he's ready to go. Then, the leash pulls taut and I look around to see Gunner sitting on the curb. Sitting. Like a human would--he looks so nonchalant I expect him to cross his legs and say "Let's take a little breather, shall we?"

Since I am not a giver-upper, I have continued to take him out for a walk each day. He seems resigned to it and comes along without too much trouble now. Of course, the down side of walking the dog is his need to heed nature's call. I used to watch people picking up after their dogs and feel gratitude that I didn't have to do anything so demeaning. But, now I do. I clean up after my dog because I am a decent human being and follow the rules of polite society. This means that most of the time when I am heading home with Gunner surging ahead--he gets excited when he gets back to his own territory--I usually have a nice little bag of "stuff" in one hand and a tight grip on the leash with my other hand. This sometimes causes a bit of an etiquette dilemma when one of my friendly neighbors waves at me. The hand holding the leash is not free to wave so...do you think it's rude to wave doggie doo doo at your neighbors? Or if I don't wave at all will they think I'm snobby? I guess I'll ask the Dog Whisperer.

Mom 101: Pas de Deux

In the process of raising our children, I have tried to help them lead well-rounded lives. I lean toward the arts and cultural refinement but I also took them fishing and and encouraged bug gathering and a healthy exploration of nature. Each child had the opportunity to play sports and learn a musical instrument. They had plenty of outdoor time and healthy doses of playing in the park. I signed them up for swimming lessons and hauled them to the library to encourage literacy. This wasn't easy with the whole entourage of baby, toddler, preschooler, pottier-in-training, teasing grade-schooler, moody pre-adolescent, smart-alec teen etc, etc. But I soldiered on.

So, from time to time, I tried to take a child for some one-on-one time. One child is a piece of cake when you are used to a whole army. An opportunity arose when my good friend, whose daughter trained in ballet with the Oregon Ballet, got me two tickets to the Nutcracker. Siara was about 5 years old. She liked to run around in a tutu (she wore it on her head--but that's another story)...so I thought she was ready for some culture and invited her for an afternoon at the ballet.

She was very excited and enjoyed the whole process of dressing up in a pretty dress and getting her hair done up in ribbons and curls. We drove to Portland and met my friend at her house there. She wasn't ready yet, so Siara and I went in and waited. We took off our shoes at the front door and visited for a minute while my friend finished getting ready. Somewhere in that minute, Siara ducked outside chasing their dog. She was running around their front yard with the dog without her shoes on. Well, where there's a dog, there's going to be you know what.

When we were ready to go, I picked up Siara's shoes and called to her to come and put them back on. She ran over and sat on the porch to put them on when I noticed the stench. She had stepped in dog doo-doo. She was wearing pretty white tights that looked so adorable with her ruffly yellow dress. First I tried to hose the tights off with water but the stuff wasn't budging. She was starting to get a little distressed and I didn't want to ruin the whole experience for her. I pulled off the poopy tights and threw them in the garbage. We put her shoes on her bare feet and off we went to the ballet.

You might think that's the end of this story. But you would be mistaken.

We got to the Keller Auditorium and made our way to our seats. They were fantastic: 1st Balcony, front row, center. Siara loved bouncing up from her seat and looking over the railing as people were coming in. She was so excited for the show and enjoyed the whole atmosphere of the theatre. I let her exuberance run free and enjoyed her joy in the moment.

Then, the lights dimmed and the orchestra began the overture.

Colored lights flashed across the stage curtains as the music played.

I told Siara she would have to stay in her seat now because it was starting.

She sat very nicely for a few minutes. But the curtains weren't opening. Where were the ballerinas? The lights were boring.

The minutes dragged on.

Suddenly, at a slightly quieter moment in the music,

Siara bounded out of her seat, leaned over the railing and yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Let's get this show on the road!!!"

Luckily it was dark enough that the little urchin with no manners and no tights couldn't be pinpointed and dragged from the premises.

And her Mom kept a tight grip on her for the rest of the show.