Paying attention to good stuff

3am. A little dog panting and jumping on me. ”I need to go, Mom!”
I stumbled around in the semi darkness, finding my glasses on the floor (how did they get there?), reached for the keys to open up, and dropped them… twice.
All the while, little Miss was running in circles… ”Hurry up, Mom, hurry up!”
Thankfully, she was quick. And my brain was just foggy enough still to not want coffee! 😉 I slept another hour and a bit, and woke to my 5am alarm.
Yes, I groaned. 😛
Sipping on my second cup of coffee, my mind started waking up properly, and as it always does, it produced a blog post.
(This is the part where I admit to the following : I write blog posts in my head a lot! They’re usually pretty good, ha ha! Then I find that peaceful gap where I can sit and type one out, and they’re all gone! Disappeared! Bermuda Triangle stuff! Mysterious, indeed!)

6am found me sitting at the computer, determined to type the ‘brilliant’ post in my head, but first I needed to catch up on a few blogs.

The following is not what I was going to blog about!

If we can start our day with a giggle or a smile, a little bit of happiness, it changes things. Well, it does for me anyway. It’s a small thing, a small difference, but it somehow makes something in me a little bit stronger – as if it equips me for whatever might come my way.
Yes, admittedly, when really bad stuff happens, I may falter. But for the most part is helps.

Wic from Letters to Pogue always seems to speak to me in one way or another – soul food and thoughts to ponder! Inspiration and encouragement more often than not! A worthy blog to visit if you have not already done so 😉

This morning I was catching up, and it was his Monday Musing for today that made me giggle. (Not to detract from serious thoughts in there – there was definitely food for thought – I’ll be contemplating after this 😉 )

Please do go and read it : I think what I am saying is that the things that often make life rich and bring a smile to our faces are the ‘little’ things.

In the meantime, here’s the ‘little memory’ that made me giggle :

For some odd reason, when I was younger, the Tooth Fairy never visited my house. My teeth were whisked off to a magical place, with a shiny coin to replace them, by the Tooth Mouse.
There were discussions about this amongst my little peers, with the boys being of the opinion that it was simply because I wasn’t dainty enough for the fairy – conversations that took place in whatever tree we were climbing at the time 😛 (My mother eventually stopped sending me to pre-school in pretty dresses 😛 The strange thing was that I liked being girly, and dresses made me feel like a princess, but I simply couldn’t resist climbing the tree! Ha ha!)

When I had a loose tooth, the money I could get did not attract me in the least – I tried hard to hide that loose tooth! Because if my cousins found out (the three girls), they were delighted! My aunt would double check that it was loose enough, and then one of them would sit on my chest, one would hold my arms, and the third my legs. And they’d wiggle it right out of my mouth for me! (looking back, this was definitely a better alternative to tying string to my tooth and a doorknob and slamming the door, ha ha ha!) They’d send me home, tooth in hand, delighted at the thought that soon I’d have a shiny coin!

One day while I was munching on some Crackerbread, alone in our large kitchen (oh! How I miss having a big kitchen!), I caught a glimpse of the Tooth Mouse!
Unable to contain my excitement, I ran out to the garage to tell my dad! He smiled, but I remember some concern too.
We made our way to the kitchen, to find my mother there, putting the kettle on for some tea. I was delighted to share my news with her, and somewhat confused when she shrieked and ran off to her bedroom! (Dad refused to set mouse traps – it would be too traumatising for me.)

But I suspect the Tooth Mouse had seen and heard it all, because none of us ever saw him again!
I did still get a shiny new coin when my next tooth got retrieved though 😛 😉

I hope your week is FULL of little reminders of happy memories from the past! Have a great one, everyone! ❤


‘Wood’ you believe it?

“What are you eating this time?”

Yes, this is a question I regularly ask. And I ask it of my dog. If you have a dog, have ever owned a dog, or have ever been a regular visitor to a house where a dog resides, then you will understand my need to be continuously asking this question.

Unfortunately, for the most part, the answer comes in the form of a screeched,
“Drop that!” It’s usually issued in reference to the item in his mouth : a shoe, an eraser, a pen, underwear, kitchen towel – you get the picture.

Yesterday was interesting.

Continue reading

My dog ate my homework

In my house, this old excuse rings true.

Except it’s not just the homework that suffers.

My dog eats EVERYTHING. Some days I’m offended, and wonder if we smell bad – because so far, the only ‘things’ he hasn’t tried to eat in our house are us humans – although playtime results in some pretty nasty scratches, both from teeth and paws.

We got him from a private rescue facility when he was seven weeks old. Some idiot threw him out the window of a car, in a plastic bag, when he was just three weeks. At five weeks of age, he contracted ‘tick bite fever/biliary’ – a disease that usually kills quickly. He beat that. He’s a survivor, this pavement special of ours.

And he’s probably one of the most remarkable dogs I have ever owned. I am a little biased, of course, but when I think of my dogs in the past, he’s something special.

I never had to house train him – he just knew.  Although once or twice, if I didn’t wake during the night, he’d disappear into the shower, and relieve himself there!

He also knew how to play fetch. That was great, until he started not only bringing me tennis balls, but socks, shoes, underwear, knitting needles, dish towels – pretty much anything he could find.

Placing these items in the middle of the counter didn’t help either. He has these ridiculously long legs that he uses as cat paws, to stretch and reach an item and pull it towards him. If he’s not caught in time, and it’s close enough for him to take in his teeth – then the game is on. Yes, he knows how to play ‘catches’ too – except we’re always the ones who are ‘on’.

When his water bowl is almost empty, he tips it up and watches the last of it form a puddle. Then he picks it up, and trots around with it until he finds one of us humans to give it to.

He trots. Like a horse. And when he’s excited about who is at the door, and is patiently waiting for you to open the gate and let them in, he trots on the spot, like a show horse.

But back to the water. I don’t know about you, but when I was a child I was often in trouble when we went to eat out at restaurants. I would put my straw into my glass, and blow into it, making bubbles. Sometimes, I was so loud, people would turn to look.

We’d had our pup for a month. One night, I was sitting at the computer in the lounge, and he was chewing on his bone behind me. My daughter was sprawled across my bed, reading a book (you’d think she doesn’t have her own room sometimes).And I heard someone blowing bubbles through a straw. I yelled for her to stop. She came to tell me she wasn’t doing anything – and the noise miraculously went away. Until a few minutes later. This time, I turned around.My dog was standing with his head in his water bowl, snout pushing down against the bottom of the bowl, and blowing through his nose! Then he would lift his head, and try and catch the bubbles in the bowl – I kid you not, I couldn’t make something like that up if I tried! He used to do this a lot, but he’s just over a year now, and doesn’t do it as often.

I used to have a lovely back garden. In fact, I’d planted a whole bunch of new flowers about a month before we got him. I worked really hard in that garden. Used to. It’s his now. And of course, there’s not a flower in sight – although what he did with them no one knows.

I used to have a couch. I never really liked it, but at least once upon a time, it was whole. I’m thankful we can at least still sit on it.


In the morning, if my daughter has not yet woken, I tell him to go and wake her. He dutifully trots off to her room, and presses his snout against her nose, lavishing her with soppy kisses. (Of course, this is sometimes a problem when she is woken from a deep slumber by him.)

At night, he seems to know when it’s bedtime. Naturally, he sleeps with me. He eases himself onto the bed, usually in my spot, and curls up as best he can with his long legs, on my pillow. Of course, I gently shift him across to the other side of the bed, amidst moans of protest from somewhere deep in his chest. Some nights he shows his disgust at being moved by moving again – to plonk himself on top of my feet. And that is where he sleeps.
But there are those nights where he is accepting of his position, and he continues to sleep. And just to show he’s still not entirely amused with me, he snores in my ear for the rest of the night.


If you ask him if he wants a hug, he comes to you and stands on his hind legs. I lean in, and he places his paws on my shoulders. I step closer, and wrap my arms around his body. He curls his paws, so that you can feel them on your neck. He then ‘stretches’, but the curled paws make it feel like he is hugging you. It’s the sweetest thing ever!

His latest antic was earlier today, and I am happy to report that no actual harm came to him – although I was very worried initially. I super-glued a frame, and then placed the super glue, and frame, on top of the microwave, which sits ON TOP of the counter. Don’t ask me how – I don’t think I’ll ever work it out – but in the two minutes it took me to get the washing out the machine, he got the glue. I came through to find him lying on the couch, not looking too happy, ‘chewing his cud’, with the super glue tube in front of him. Sigh. Another baby in the house?

I have to add, because those who hear tales of his antics all suggest it, my dog is not bored or neglected. He has a constant supply of human love, chew toys and bones all over the house. He is regularly supplied with more. He just prefers OUR stuff. AND, he generally only misbehaves when we’re HERE! if we go out, he sleeps, like an angel. The mischief is for our benefit!

And surprisingly, I am okay with that. He’s not just ‘a’ dog. He’s OURS. And we couldn’t have asked for a better addition to our little family!