Puppy love

The reason babies and puppies are so cute and endearing is so you won't leave them on the side of the mountain when the need for sleep and some order in your life becomes overwhelming.

Just like child birth and the exhausted, crazy days of life with a newborn become this foggy memory that seems to morph in to a vision of sweet smelling baby, tinged with the overwhelming feeling of love when they grasp your finger or snuggle against you to nap, so to do memories of puppy training.

My slippers have been gnawed, I have bitter apple spray at the ready for every cabinet corner, rug edge, chair leg within reach. I am sleeping in yoga pants with coat and shoes staged at the ready for the 3 or 4 am whimper that signals the potty trip outside. Yesterday I almost sent up fireworks to celebrate her first hint of telling me she had to go out. She went to the door, looked at me, and then started sniffing the rug as a good second choice. My faster than a speeding bullet reflexes let me scoop her up, rewarding her with a treat and lavishing her with praises as we made a dash to the "zone" before she opted for the rug. Because I want her to eat on schedule and not nosh, I am sitting on the little stool coaxing her to stay on task and finish her meal so I can set the timer and hustle her out for a good girl experience. What was I thinking when I said yes to the puppy.

 

But the good times are good. Playing fetch, watching her cull through her crate for the toy of the minute, being greeted anytime I leave the room by a wiggling puppy with toy dangling from her mouth eager to share it with me. She is warm and snuggly when she lays in my lap collapsing from crazy running around, she rewards me with newly learned skills, like "soft" when chewing on my fingers, or drop it when finding some small thing on the floor (accompanied with the bribe of a few kibble).

I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel when I have a puppy who sleeps through the night, is 90% housebroken, remembers her manners when comany comes. Ask me same time next year, I think we will have achieved success by then.

 

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It is not sacred

Today's Ask Amy had a question from a niece who inherited her aunt and uncle's stuff. They had no children or other relatives. The question was about a large painting taken from their 50th anniversary photo. The niece had no room for it, and no one to gift it to. What should she do? It felt wrong to throw it out.

The question got me thinking. We have just updated our wills and they are pretty vanilla. Who ever dies first is left with the task of figuring out what to do with the miscellania of our lives. I think I need to put a note in the box with the wills that says - I collected things I liked, framed pictures of family and events that were interesting to me. They are not sacred. You are not responsible for treating them as treasures. If something is interesting to you keep it, if there is a frame or container you can repurpose, use it. Feel no guilt sending things to goodwill, or a flea market or even burning them in the firepit. They have no cosmic purpose, they were simply interesting to me. My strange collection of crockery, dinner plates, and wine glasses were because I liked to have interesting things to use when we had company. They aren't "heirlooms - well except the Christmas and Thanksgiving plates, and even those were important at a specific point in time to me. Sell them at the estate sale.

So children cull through the detritus of my life, keep what pleases you, sell what is saleable, donate what has a useful second life, toss the rest. Feel no guilt about not wanting to add more stuff to your life just because it turns up in a cupboard in the house. Take it out, look at it, maybe share a laugh about a memory and then without guilt send it on to its next life. I love you all, remember me at my best, don't feel the need to turn my stuff into some sacred icon that has to be treasured.

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