Puppy Pictures!

The pups are 4 weeks old now so here's a snapshot their life and times.

This is a week ago. They still sleep a lot.

Finally on some solid food! Carla is finishing up.

Cookie has turned out to be a loudmouth.

Diane gets a good look at the great outdoors

Mayday Malone, on the other hand, could care less.

Two merles unsure of the hand that feeds them

Good cop / Disappointed cop

Following up on last night's post, it seems we have a situation brewing. Poor Tio has found himself grounded for a long time because, for all the dealmaking, lectures, compromises and do-overs, he still refuses to be a contributing part of the family. For 2 years we've tried to teach him that you do what is asked and live with the rules, and you earn privileges. It seemed all along that he just didn't get it and kept screwing up. But this week we learned better. He just doesn't care. He's been lying and ignoring everything all along figuring as long as he played along in the short term and put up with the odd inconvenience, he'd get his way.

It hasn't quite worked out that way and it finally caught up with him: he got grounded for the entire summer. Now he's scrambling to get untangled from the mess. He needs to grow up enough to stop lying and accept some responsibility for his own behavior.

Unfortunately for him, I've had enough. So have Buddy and Tish. We don't believe anything he has to say. He's been stripped of all his privileges and can't go anywhere without adult supervision. That means bye-bye to a summer of hanging out with his friends - which has him completely pissed off.

Eventually, there has to be a way to work this out with him. The question is what will it be and how long will it take? Tish is playing 'good cop' and has intimated to him that she's willing to listen to him. Not me. I've had enough of being lied to and I don't care if he loses a summer over it. That makes me the natural 'bad cop'.

This is going to be a tough one. He's been playing this game for many years, long before he moved in here. Changing this behavior is going to require a lot of work - none of which he has any interest in doing. 

Unless he does, it may be a very long and lonely summer for the kid, and a pain in the neck for this 'here-we-go-again-can-I-just-get-a-break-once bad cop'.

"Don't make me call your grampa."

(I wrote this last week and was so out of it, I didn't remember it)

It's a mixed blessing being the biggest threat someone can levy at the kids. That lastest one has been dropped on the kids by their teachers, their afterschool supervisors, and - their father. Most recently while I was on the phone to the afterschool councellor I could hear Kit cleaning up his act at the other end of the room.

Grammo and Buddy are catching up this spring, taking no prisoners, offering no deals so the kids will do what's expected of them. But the one thing that stops them in their tracks is my name as used in the blog title. It's partly because they know I follow through on threats (and promises) I make, partly because they now have a long enough ingrained history, but mostly because they need it. They need a wall that they can't bend, something that brings them back from the abyss of doing something stupid or dangerous that can't be undone.

Lately, as you've seen in some posts lately, what with the poisons I've been drinking, I can be as cranky as the next parent. But I've apologized when I go too far and told them that being in a long term rotton mood is something completely new to me. They said they understand, but the real proof is how well I improve. It's getting better.

However, bumps in the road notwithstanding, one other irony about my being the tough one you don't get past is that both of the older boy would rather deal with me than what Grammo and Buddy offer. You see, I stood my ground, but there was a way to make it work for them too.

I'm off to watch Tio play baseball and then make homemade chicken tostados for supper. I think I can handle the hard rap I get along as I mix it with good stuff, too.

The Troll Under the Bridge

(sorry for not writing this past week. It was my worst chemo week yet. For the past 8 days I haven't wished I could feel well again. Instead, all I wanted was not to feel so bad.)

Let me ease back in with something Tish told me. Driving home yesterday, Doc piped up, "I think Tio is mean, Grammo. I think it's better to be nice."
"That's true," she said.
"Tio is mean like the troll under the bridge in Three Billy Goat's Gruff."
"You think so?" Grammo asked.
"He doesn't have to be mean. Yup. Just like the troll in Billy Goat's Gruff."
"What about Kit? Is he mean?"
"He's nicer."
"Maybe you should be more like him, then," Grammo suggested.

It's gotta be tough to idolize your big brother and figure out that he can be mean, too. At least, it's not something that he wants to emulate. It turns out that even the troll under the bridge is complicated.

A man needs a hobby

The puppies are starting to play together and explore their circular world which is a change from their usual slurp fest followed by nap (repeat as needed throughout the day). To stick with the Cheers motif (Our male pup being named Mayday Sam Malone), Tish named two others Diane and Carla. I went all the way and said we should pronounce them with Boston accents (Doi-anne and Cahlah) like they do on Cheers.

Doc picked up on that right away and started calling the red merle "Doianne" and then wanted to know how to pronounce other words with a Boston accent. It's kind of strange that he picks up on dialect so quickly but he's still slurring his own words. I think it's a bitta laziness oin his paht and'll cleah up soon.

Kit spends a lot of time in the puppy box, playing, hanging out, reading. He's thrilled with them. He's looking forward to training Mayday and being good companions together. It'll take a lot of work and I think he can do it.

Tio was away all weekend. He has fixated on scootering as a pastime. He spends most afternoons and weekends learning tricks and dreaming of his perfect custom built machine.

There's nothing like a passion to get a kid motivated. And it appears they now each have positive ones. It'll keep them out of trouble and their minds engaged. Good for them both.

Hmmmm. Almost time for me to start that serious diet.

Softening sibling rivalry

Over the past couple of months, Tio has had a few sleepover opportunities where he's gone from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. The place is a lot quieter while he's gone but more importantly, it's given Kit and Doc time together without his influence.

As you may recall, Tio and Kit never really got along and so the constant shiv sharpening between them has reached some fairly nasty heights at times. Doc, innocent little blank palate that he is, decided he doesn't like Kit, either - just because he looks up to Tio - so the three of them have an unhealthy dynamic.

Without Tio there, things have changed. First, the others are bored stiff and look for anything to do and, second, they discover that the other brother isn't such an ogre after all. Kit is just under 5 years older than Doc which doesn't leave much common ground. Add that to Kit being more girl flavor than boy with his activities, whittles the 'together' stuff down even further. But they manage. Sometimes better when Buddy is there.

This is great development. Sibling rivalry is a pain in the neck. I recently proverbially 'knocked the older boys' heads together'  by telling them their world had changed and it was time for them catch up. The life they lived before was gone with all the competition that Debbie threw at them, they are nothing like each other so there's no competition here, they don't share the same friends, are in different schools and have no reason to interact. In channeling my father's temper I summed it up with: "if you don't start getting along better I'm going to shove one of you so far up each other you'll think you're twins!" They gulped, went their separate ways and have done better ever since (whether my colorful prose had any effect I'll never know).

When I was Doc's age, I began a friendship with my brother Alec (who was Kit's age) and we became closest friend for several years. When I look at the age difference between these two boys I dont know how we did it. Five years is huge between 6 and 11. But there was magic with Alec and me (read You Pedal I'll Steer). I don't know how hard that is to create, especially with two boys so different. But I do know it's possible.

So, I suppose the best thing is to keep sending Tio off for weekends away

A death sentence reprive

I got results of yesterday's PETscan this afternoon. I am lymphoma free! I still have 2 more chemo treatments to go through to make sure the beast has been killed but I can move on with my life.

It is so strange to have your future taken away. But that's what it feels like when a doctor says the words "stage 3 cancer". It takes more than your breath away. It carved out a piece of my heart and shook my soul. It took a long time just to accept the possibility of dying even while I fought hard against it.

And just as suddenly my future has been retored. A second word from the doctor and *poof* I'm free - like a condemned prisoner with a pardon from the Gov. I must admit, I wasn't prepared for this, either. I had bolstered myself to hear words like 'complications’, 'increase dosage' - worst of all - ‘sorry'.

I don't think the true impact of what that means has hit me yet. I'm still looking at my prison release form like it might not be real. I'm free. Free to make plans, free to choose, free to see the grandchildren grow up.

I won't mind the last 2 infusions. It's time to start living again with a whole new view of the world.

Lock up your pets and keep an eye on your kids

Mountain Lion dragging a deer

Mountain Lion, puma, cougar, catamount... a giant cat by any other name would still scare the crap outa me.

This picture was taken last week only 12 miles south of here by a 'deer cam' that shoots 24 hours a day. A couple of days earlier, another was spotted 10 miles north. The NH State Fish and Game department have declared them extinct in this part of the country since 1938 despite continued reports of sightings to this day.

Well, extinct as Bigfoot or not, I better not exercise Bunnie at 3 am anymore.

(NB - I have learned that this is a hoax and the picture was taken in the southwest years ago. Why anyone would want to claim credit for someone else's photo is beyond me. )

How to make a finicky eater in 4 easy puppies...

Mynie is our "Mayday Malone"

 The puppies are just over a week old. Fat little sausage rolls with Mr. Potatohead knobs on top every one. Cute as, well... puppies. Soft and cuddly, they spend half their time slurping down milk and the other half dreaming of slurping down milk. When they're awake, they paddle around their dry pool like they're doing laps, mewing and bumping into everything looking for their mommy and the goodies therein.

She is the consumate mom, her wonders to perform; endless patience for their needs, nudging them here and there, washing their little bums clean and taking it all in stride. She's made our job too easy. All we have to do is sit back and watch them.

Them - not her. She needs constant attention. Six or more rich meals a day to keep up milk production, potty breaks in between, exercise a couple of times  a day, some personal "me" time where we take her aside and pet her and make her feel like a dog again (all moms need that), etc., etc..  The result is I haven't hadmore than an hour's sleep at a stretch since they were born. One way or another I'm up to make sure she's okay.

Kit feeding Bunnie while the pups sleep

Meals are the real treat. Before the babies she was a wolfer. You know, put down any kind of food and she'd gobble it up before she knew what it was or might even taste like. It was as though she and Gully were in a race to see who could finish a bowl of food in under 60 seconds. Now we're giving her ice cream for calcium, eggs and meat for protien, tinned chow mixed with rice and burger - and she turns her nose up at it half the time. (Well, not the ice cream). So there I am at 4 in the morning spoon feeding her poached eggs and toast like she's the puppy. The irony is, before I got sick, I was up until 4 am as a matter of course. Now I have to drag myself up to attend the dog!

Kit is great with them. He likes to spoon feed Bunnie and watch the pups. He's getting all warm and fuzzy with Mayday, the one we're keeping, so he can help train him. He's really hoping that Mayday will become his dog and want to follow him around and sleep on his bed and look to him the way Bunnie looks up to me.

I don't see why that can't happen. But in the meantime we have another couple of weeks of spoon feeding momma until the pups are on solid food.

Cancer and Delilah

I’m probably not the first to note the comparison to having one’s hair fall out from chemo and the Old Testament story of Samson being shorn by Delilah. Perhaps a person’s strength isn’t tied directly to their hair but having it all come out and feeling so weak and vulnerable from cancer certainly makes an interesting parallel. Of course, both men and women are susceptible to cancer so the ‘vixen Delilah’ in this case is the chemotherapy itself: the supposed cure.

As cancer victims, we travel through the valley of death hairless and stripped of our dignity, totally alone, and armed with only the faith that we will find the strength to survive, no matter what the odds. Many fall by the way, many survive, some from astounding odds, but all who do are scarred and that much more acutely aware of how fragile our hold on this Earth is.

If that isn’t a metaphor for bringing the temple down around your ears, I don’t know what is.

A cartoon laugh

I thought we could all use a laugh today.
I've been meaning to render this idea for a long time.

Enjoy.

"...and the password is...."

I can't believe how many passwords I have. There's a file on my computer with a list so long my nails grow while I scroll down. Where did they all come from? I don't think I had one password my whole life except for some secret codes my brother and I made up.  Now I have secret words (don't forget the *^@&+#'s you have to put in!). Even so we're still all getting hacked and warned put extra locks on that cyber door.

Here's a good one - last night I was typing in the password for the "parental controls" on the kid's internet access, and I didn't have enough light so I flubbed it. Over my shoulder I hear Tio's voice telling me what the password is! The very audience I was 'parentally controlling’ has my password. This wasn't some 2 letter or birthday password, either. No sir. I had a long phrase like "freezerburnssuck2012". And Tio had it down verbatem.

I had to know how they got it. He said Kit told him. Kit insisted he heard it from Tio. DING. Round one to the kids. I sat 'em both down and made it clear I would understand how they were hacking my password before we got up. Long story short: it's my fault. They hemmed and hawwed and didn't change their tunes but the subtext that became clear was that they keep a cracker eye on that keyboard whenever I was logging in for them. Even when they were told to look away. So they both pieced it together. 

They are born into this generation of cyberspace. You should see how fast kids scan a computer screen and come up with what's relavent. I have to turn away from them when I do any screen work because they are all eyes. Passwords are power. Mote than once Tio has cracked my simpler 4 digit phone codes. How? He was a 12 year old with an afternoon, access to my phone, and nothing better to do.

We always worried that Big Brother was watching over our shoulder. Not so. Let me introduce you to Little Brother.

"I Was a Canine Midwife for the FBI"

Ten minutes after Tish went to work this morning, Bunnie went into labor. We were cuddling on the bed and she was panting lots and kind of antsy. So we both got into the whelping box (fancy name for a plastic pool with a blanket in it) and she shredded and nested for a couple of minutes and then went into labor. I barely had time to jump out when the first little blue merle puppy slipped out like she was shooting off the water slide a Six Flags. Wheeeeeee!

Bunnie went right into mommy mode and barely had time to clean her off before the next one flew down the shoot and landed on the first. Four in all, three girls and one boy, were born within the hour. Beautiful pups. Bunnie got them all cleaned and fed and off to the races without any help from me. I just held her hand, metaphorically speaking.

Tish was ecstactic about having a black male: that's the one she wants to keep. Because it's May Day we're calling him Mayday "Sammy" Malone. Kit was the first of the kids to see the puppies and we left him to look after them while Tish took me for a follow up shot at the hospital after yesterday's chemo blast. Quite a responsibility for him. He's really looking forward helping raise and train Mayday.

I guess Bunnie and I have our work cut out for us over the next few weeks and then Kit for the next few months.