I love to look up words in the dictionary; because I learn that sometimes a word's meaning is different than I expect. So I looked up "Indulge", just to make sure I had the correct word for the way our puppy is treated.
Specifically, according to Merriam/Webster, "indulge" means: "the behavior or attitude of people who allow themselves to do what they want or who allow other people to do what they want : the act of doing something that you enjoy but that is usually thought of as wrong or unhealthy
: something that is done or enjoyed as a special pleasure
As you can see, Maisy has a strong influence on "Maverick." I wouldn't allow Maisy to sit on MY lap whilest eating at the table. But her whining and brown pleading eyes turned "Maverick's" heart to melted butter; hence she gets a seat of honour on his lap.
There are ground rules: 1. No sniffing the plate. 2. No licking the plate or table. 3. No paws resting on the side of the table. 4. A bite (small one) will be given by "Papa M." if Maisy is a good girl and follows all the rules.
So, would you say that Maisy is spoiled? (Please do not answer truthfully!) I prefer to call her indulged.
Puppy
Maisy is almost 10 months old—she will be on the 8th of April. She is such a sweet, funny, clever
puppy. I’ve missed so many opportunities
to share funny stories on this blog.
However,
I am going to share some now, especially since I have missed blogging.
The
first day Maisy came to live with us, I laid down on the couch and put her on
top of me. She whined a bit and then
settled down. “Couch time” is part of our relationship,
which includes me changing into my pyjamas, stretching out on the couch and letting her doze off whilst I watch
TV. About 10.00 pm we usually go to
bed. Bed for Maisy is sleeping in her
carrier kennel, which sits next to our bed.
Story
One
On Saturday, 28th
February, I had intended to attend the church’s social evening of Bingo & Beetle Drive at St. Mary’s
Centre. I’m sure it would have been fun. But, as the month of March was the
next day, I was determined to work on the next issue of “The
Mission Bell”.
That was truly my
intention. I had pulled up the document,
had the internet open for trawling through information on the core charities
for which I was planning to glean prayer requests and was positioned myself to
start writing.
Of course! The phone rings. It was my sister, and we’d not chatted for a
few days. Playing solitaire on my laptop,
while Sissy and I exchanged “fur-baby” stories, the minutes sped by and before
we knew it, over an hour had flown by.
Reluctantly we said our good-byes.
Maisy needed walking, as
it was going on over two hours since our last foray into the starlit
night. She sniffed around, got told to “leave
it and come” over something she’d found on the ground and finally completed her
toilet. I was glad to come back in.
My mind was beyond
grappling with research for “The Mission Bell”.
Besides, I’d promised “Maverick” that I would sew the end of his zip into his work
coat. It was only a couple of inches,
and no big effort in terms of complication.
But it took me about half-an-hour.
The thread had just been
cut from the machine and I drew the coat off of the worktop. Just then Maisy came back into my
office/studio. She whined, and I looked down
at my long-haired puppy.
“What?” I ask.
I looked at the clock. 10:00 pm! “Is it bedtime?”
“BWOAF!” Brown eyes stared earnestly up at me.
“You want me to go change
into my ‘jammies’, and go lay on the couch, so you can sleep on top of me?” I ask her.
“Arff! Yap!
Yap! Arrfff. Ruff! Ruff,ruff ruff." A 30 second
instruction in puppy replied to my question, which loosely translated means—“Don’t
just sit there! Get on with it!” What could be done but to comply?!
Story
Two
During
“Maverick’s” first marriage his ex-wife
and children were always bringing home pets—anything from dogs, cats, even a
flea-infested hedgehog, to turtles and fish.
This was done without consulting him.
So, when I decided to marry “Maverick”, I determined that I would not
get a dog unless we were in agreement.
Husband had reasons he didn’t
want a pet:
Pets
cost money—food, vet bills, medicines if required.
You
can’t take pets on holiday. He was not
going to have where he took his holiday and when he could take his holidays
based upon if we could take the animal.
And it was too expensive to put them in a boarding kennel.
They
would make a mess in the house, dog hair everywhere—and it would smell.
Barking
dogs were a major dislike for “Maverick”.
On
the occasions I went to Florida to see my sister, I was lavished with love from
her cats, but especially her dogs, first
Honey, and then Hannah. Both of them
thought they were my dogs when I was there.
I talked about them lots when I came home.
About five years ago there was a
moment when John’s heart softened towards the idea of me having a dog. I had been home from Florida for about two
days. We were sitting at the dining
table, watching television while eating our lunch. An advert for Blue Cross Animal Charity came
on the television. It showed a dog being abandoned by his
owner. Well, missing my sister’s
dog, and empathising with the dog in the
advert, I burst into tears. Just couldn’t
help it! “Maverick” looked at me and
said, “Okay, I can see that having a dog would mean a lot to you. But first we have to get things in order.”
So, I began to plan. This included giving him answers for his
objections.
Cost: If you buy pet insurance, you can get most of
the medical costs reimbursed. And little
dogs don’t eat that much. I’m willing to
give up a small luxury to afford to buy food.
Holiday: We have four children who love animals. I’m sure we could find people who would be
willing to pet-sit for a week or two. I
know “Chantilly” and her family would.
There are also some places that allow you to take your dogs.
Dog
hair everywhere: If you get a dog that
doesn’t shed, it won’t make a mess.
Yorkshire terriers, Maltese Terriers, poodles, Shih Tzus, to name a
few. I knew I wanted a Yorkie, because they are small.
Barking
dogs—or yappy dogs—can be trained not to bark.
Now this can be a tall order, as little dogs are known to have big
attitudes, and are vocal about it. But,
if persistent, barking can be curbed.
Circumstances
finally aligned, and last July, while here on vacation, Sissy and I found
Maisy. Maisy come home on 8th
August at exactly eight weeks old.
All I just shared
isn’t too funny. But you have to
understand the amount of resistance I had to overcome. Since Maisy has joined our home, things have
changed in “Maverick’s” mind.
For example, each night I have to make sure that I let “Maverick”
say good-night to Maisy.
When we first got her, I started saying to
Maisy, “Daddy’s going to work; Daddy’s home;” etc. His response was, “I’m not Daddy to a
dog. I’m the Guv’ner. “
But as the weeks went on, she began to charm
him. It was her bright eyes, wagging
tail, wiggling excessively when he came home that warmed his heart. Now, it isn’t uncommon to hear “Maverick”
say, “Maisy, come to Pa.”
Yesterday, (3rd
April), Maisy got knocked down by a middle-sized dog, and nipped. The other dog was jealous of his master
giving Maisy a little scratch on the head.
After charging at Maisy, knocking her over, giving her a nip, he began
barking and trying to get between the man and Maisy and barking with loud frustration. Maisy immediately headed for me, and I
quickly picked her up. She was shaking,
and making an anxious barking reply. The
man and I apologised to each other, and we walked away. Maisy recovered and she soon resumed her
walk.
When I told “Maverick”,
he immediately picked Maisy up, crooning, “Those other dogs can’t hurt My
Maisy. You’re okay now, My Maisy.”
I couldn’t help but
think, “Who said he didn’t want a dog?”
By the way, did I mention that “Maverick” will sometimes
let her sit on his lap while he eats a meal?
Story Three
Maisy
is primarily a “Mummy’s Girl”. She does
run to see “Maverick” when he comes home.
She’ll sit on his lap while he is on the couch. But, a majority of the time, she wants to be
with me.
Because
she is a “Mummy’s Girl”, she tends to get a little jealous when “Maverick” and
I are sharing affection. It isn’t
uncommon for her to whine when “Maverick” and I stand hugging or share a
kiss.
Last
night (3rd April), John and I were standing in his office,
cuddling. The next thing we hear behind
us is Maisy’s squeak toy. Maisy had
learned that by holding her favourite white plush toy by the head, it would
squeak when she bit down. Well, last
night she was chewing that toy, squeaking it for all it was worth. She was not going to let us leave her out of
a cuddle-fest. "Maverick" and I laughed, and went to the lounge, where she joined us on the couch.
I
know this is a long post. But I wanted
to share some of these moments when this furry little critter had brought a
smile to our face and joy to our heart.
Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,
"Lady Helene"
Saturday, 28 April 2012
Jeb-Lee
So, okay, yes I've been home for eleven days and all the cat photos should have been done before I left Florida. Suffice it to say, I didn't accomplish that. I truly meant to post the last photo of the cats right after I got home. I was too busy resting/sleeping to recover from jetlag to do it. Enough of the excuses and explainations.
If you're thinking this cat looks familiar, it's because Jeb-Lee looks like his sister, Sethra. He is larger than Sethra, weighing about eight pounds.
Sethra in back, Jeb-Lee in front
He is very affectionate. One night I was sleeping on the recliner couch. He jumped up and nestled down between my ankles. A couple of times I felt his claws prick the bottom of my feet. I could only surmise that my snoring got too loud and he was protesting!
If you remeber the photos of his sister, you realise that they are ginger tabbies. They like to play together. They often curl up near each other and snooze as well.
Yes, I miss these entertaining little critters. I even dreamed that I'd brought Sethra home with me and begged My Midnight Man to keep her. Funny how the mind works.
That's the last of the cat photos! Okay...one more cute one of Sethra....
Yes, this is Sethra in a bowl. Sissy was sorting through boxes from storage to see of what she could get rid. This bowl was one of my Great-grandmother's. It was cracked across the bottom, rendering it unsaleable and almost unusable, in case it leaked. Sissy had left the bowl on the desk, with other items for donations to local charity shops. To our amusement, we watched as Sethra stepped into the bowl and proceeded to curl up. From then on, it was Sethra's bowl. No disposing of it now!
I guess I shall have to find my moments of un-expected cuteness from other places!
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