Our boy turns seven today. Seven years of love and snuggles and play and joy and laughter and smiles and exasperation and sweetness and tail wagging and pawing and cuddle-time and barks and bullies and deep soulful looks. Happy birthday little man, we love you so.
I wake up, suddenly. I feel like someone is staring at me. I turn over slowly and there he is, a small furry little fella with big brown eyes sitting over me looking down. His eyes say everything he can’t speak. I’m half awake and tell him no. Gently at first… no buddy, lay down, lay down now. He doesn’t take no for an answer and leans down and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Again I say, no buddy, lay down. He’s relentless. I try to go a bit more firm with him, NO, Weston, lay down. He ignores me. We’re having a battle of wills.
I tell him I didn’t get to sleep until really late last night and in fact have only slept for about four or five hours. He doesn’t seem to care. I change tactics. I ask if he needs to go outside. Maybe that’s it. I get up, he follows, and I think, OK, this is it. I open the doggie door and he sticks his head out, then pulls it back in. He sticks it out one more time, looks around, and again pulls it back in. I don’t have time for these shenanigans. I open the door, telling him it’s OK and that a little rain/freezing rain won’t hurt him and that I’ll stand right there in the door, in t-shirt and shorts, waiting for him. It’s freezing cold outside and I’m cold waiting in the doorway. He ventures out tentatively, makes it to the bottom of the steps, and immediately turns around and comes back in. I shake my head and pad back toward the bedroom. I need more sleep.
Of course, he follows me. I get back in bed and look down. He’s sitting on the floor next to the bed looking up at me, those big eyes doing their magic trick on me again. Practically programmed I scoot back, making room for him. I open up the covers and he jumps up effortlessly, laying down up against me with his head on my arm. He demands to be petted for a while, continually nudging me with his nose until I get just the right spot on his tummy. It’s nearly 8:00 AM now. I still want to go back to sleep.
We stay in that place for what seems like a long while, me petting his tummy, him enjoying what we have come to call his morning cuddle time. This is not the first time this scenario has happened. He’s trained me well.
Finally, finally, I hear him snore. This little sign tells me I can stop petting him and try to go to sleep. I do.
We both wake up. Him still up against me, head on my arm. I just spent over an hour spooning our boy. I vow, as I get up, and he gets up reluctantly, that this won’t happen again. It’s a vow I’ve made many times. His soul filled eyes melt my heart, even when I’m irritated by him. I remind myself he’s just a dog, but I love him so.
He jumps up on the sofa next to me, stares at me with those eyes, and paws my hand.
Weston is a guy of deep thoughts and feelings. He has soul.
I looked up a moment ago and there he was sitting on the chair in the corner looking out the window. He looked like a person, deep in thought, contemplating all of life’s ups and downs. He looked introspective and philosophical. He looked like Weston usually looks.
Six years ago we decided we wanted to get a dog and we decided on a Schnoodle because Karen’s daughter, Mary, had one and we loved him. So cute, great personality, small, and to top it off they don’t shed and they have hair akin to human hair so they don’t have dander and don’t smell like a dog. Ever. In fact they sort of have a smell all their own, each in their own way, like humans do. But I digress.
We went and looked at some dogs in East/Central Oregon and when one of the little guys came over and licked my toe it was all over. He was the one. Six weeks later, in April of 2007, we went and picked him up in Portland where we met with the woman who raised him. We’d had a name picked out for him already, but when we saw him, looked in his eyes, we knew instantly the name didn’t work. He looked too smart for the name. Too studious. Too deep. So on the drive back home, with the little guy sitting on Karen’s lap in the brand new bed we’d gotten for him, we threw names around. None fit until somehow one of us, I think it was Karen, mentioned the town of his birth, Weston. Yes, he was born in Weston, Oregon in the Blue Mountains. We looked at each other and that was it. Somehow, some way, Weston seemed right. It suited him. The him of major thought and intense looks.
Now, nearly six years later, he still has that same look. That deep look. He looks at you and into you at the same time. He is a guy of passionate feelings and sincere real love. He is incredibly smart, cunning, and curious. He is our little man.
Riley is girl of deep feelings, but of a different sort. She’s a little spitfire.
A year after we were lucky enough to get Weston we decided he needed a companion for those times we had to leave him at home. We didn’t want him to be alone. We wanted him to have a little pal, a buddy. He got a sister, not a natural born sister, but a sister none the less, and they have a love hate relationship. We had a name picked out for her too, and that one ended up sticking. Somehow Riley fits her. She’s full of energy, very vocal, and loves to put her head up against our heads and have a little pet. She gets so excited she can hardly contain herself, and is a tad quirky, but we adore her.
This morning when I looked over at Weston looking out the window a wave of love came over me, as it does so often with both of our little furry babes. Karen and/or I say, at least once a day I think, “I love them”. One of us always says it and the other one then always says, “I do too”. And we do. We love them. We love how they love us. How Weston always welcomes us home with a whole body wiggle and Riley always wants to lay in a lap. We love Weston’s kisses and the little girlie’s insistent pawing for a pet. We even love their more annoying habits, as you do with little beings you cherish. We love the schnoods. Like I loved how he was looking out the window this morning like a little person. Just as I love how, right now, he’s laying in my lap snuggling, looking back at me with those eyes with those deep deep feelings, and Riley is all curled up in Karen’s lap snuggling in close to her. We love them.
We love them.
The drive on day six was awesome. We went to Caffe Mela in Wenatchee before we started, as usual going to a local coffee place we’d found, and fueled up before heading to Leavenworth. It’s a quick drive over to Leavenworth from Wenatchee and we were there in 30 minutes or so. Not bad. The four of us wandered the town, looking in windows, walking in the grass, taking a couple of photos with the phone. Nice. Then it was on the road for the drive to Salem, by way of Portland.
We were pretty happy as we entered Oregon near The Dalles. I tried to take a photo of the entering Oregon sign, but Riley was on my lap and bumped my arm. I got a fantastic shot of the side of the bridge. The drive along 84, done so many times by both of us both separately and together, was gorgeous. We passed Multnomah Falls, Karen driving, and I tried to lean over and take a photo as we whizzed by. I think I got a great photo of the dog bed and a tiny view of the falls. Hilarious. My photo taking abilities were definitely lacking yesterday.
We stopped in Portland to pick up a half a tray of lasagna from our favorite Italian place, Piazza Italia. Yum. We’d called and ordered in advance because my honey has been craving this lasagna for a year. We had it for dinner. It was yummy.
We arrived at Mom and Don’s last night about 6:00. 2584.1 miles, 8 states, 6 days and we finally were able to stop driving. Yay! Don’t get us wrong, we love road trips, but being able to stop and not have to drive the next day… lovely. The dogs are liking it too, though we’re sure they thought they lived in the car after spending so much time there over the last several days. They thought that was their life. Good thing they adjust pretty well as long as they’re with us. Kev was here to greet us, very nice. Nothing like a Kev hug on arrival.
Next on the agenda… enjoy this fantastic Oregon weather. It’s supposed to be low to mid 80’s very low humidity the next several days. Lovely lovely.
I love words and this is a great one. Pronunciamento. Meaning… pro·nun·ci·a·men·to [pruh-nuhn-see-uh-men-toh, -shee-uh-] noun, plural pro·nun·ci·a·men·tos. a proclamation; manifesto; edict.
I came across this one today as I was looking around the dictionary. Or more precisely, in this new age, dictionary.com. It’s a wonderful word found in a wonderful place. Dictionaries are exciting, to me anyway. I’ve been reading them since I knew what one was and found one in our house. Words. Wonderful.
I used to play word games with some of my work mates. Emails going around with sentences made up of words with the same letter. Peter picked pickled peppers. Like that. We’d start with A and work our way to Z and back again, or we’d rhyme, or be cute some other way with wonderful wacky words. Fun, to us anyway. We’d stretch our minds, our vocabularies, and we’d laugh and laugh. Words are good like that.
Today as I looked around I came across this great word. Had never heard of it. And now I love it. I am also, I think, going to use it here. Make a pronunciamento about things I’d like to do this summer… a proclamation of sorts. Here, publicly, live and “in person”. Maybe if I put some things down here I will do some of them… maybe I already have. Maybe I would anyway. No matter… it’s a fun exercise.
(Riley is playing with her Uncle Kevin right now… he’s rubbing her belly, she’s growling, barking, and jumping up to wiggle around and play bite at him. She’s like popcorn. It’s cute. They missed each other.)
Anyway… back to the pronunciamento.
100 things to do this summer… and in life.
- Be present.
- Act with grace.
- Ride my bike around town.
- Use the frisbee golf set I purchased.
- Play with Sebastian.
- Eat grapes.
- Get my photos better organized.
- See an opera again.
- Hold hands.
- Be patient with people.
- Sing loudly in moving vehicles.
- Eat more whole food, less processed food.
- Play guitar again.
- Travel to foreign places.
- Be silly.
- Dance suddenly and randomly at home, and sometimes in public.
- Be child like.
- Hug my honey more than I already do.
- Use the library more than I do.
- Make pudding.
- Sleep outside.
- Be less afraid.
- Live more sustainably.
- Don’t buy anything for myself, including music, clothes, videos, etc. unless it’s second hand. (related to previous point)
- See a few movies in the park.
- Stop and listen to live music (street corners, festival bands, etc.)
- Paint something.
- Go to the drive in.
- Take photographs that inspire me.
- Continue to evolve.
- Give more than I get.
- Show respect to strangers.
- Buy meat from a farmer.
- Write and send actual letters.
- Study other cultures and ideas.
- Honor my ancestors.
- Swim in wild waters.
- Walk in Central Park in New York, eat lobster in Maine, watch hot air balloons in New Mexico.
- Use the crockpot to make dessert.
- Put my feet in lakes, oceans, rivers, puddles, tiny wading pools.
- Do another paring down of my clothes and shoes.
- Eat tomatoes from our tomato plant.
- Sit quietly outside in the wind and sunshine listening to the trees and not talk or play on the computer or phone or any other man made thing.
- Live responsibly.
- Worry less.
- Try new foods that scare me a little.
- Use hairbrushes and wooden spoons as microphones.
- Give the pups even more attention than they already get.
- Go snorkeling.
- Take random day long road trips with my honey to nowhere in particular with good music playing and great conversations.
- Embrace my dorky nature.
- Go to museums.
- Dinners with friends.
- Be in awe.
- Make people laugh on purpose.
- Make and eat pudgy pies.
- Talk to strangers.
- Laugh at myself and things that might irk me, but shouldn’t.
- Be the nicer version of me in taxing situations.
- Do things I love more than things I should do.
- Make and drink naturally flavored sun tea.
- Make a fort out of blankets.
- Smile often and only from the eyes.
- Camp in wild beautiful places.
- Put my toes in the sand.
- Eat more fruit and less bread.
- Read at least two books a month.
- Make stuff.
- Take care of my honey like she deserves.
- Skip, hop, and jump.
- See the AFI top 100 films.
- Know what’s going on in the world.
- Read poetry again.
- Play games and cards.
- Volunteer my time.
- Be passionate in life.
- Always look people in the eye.
- Wear funky hats.
- Write random and unexpected emails to friends and family more often.
- Get paid for being creative.
- Take the dogs to parks and on walks.
- Be an agent of positive change.
- Travel to new places.
- Take the train more often.
- Ride a bus to Chicago or maybe some other random place.
- Sit around our chiminea with good company.
- Make a s’more or two.
- Say what I mean and only that.
- Smell flowers.
- Live free.
- Eat handcrafted ice cream.
- Help out friends and family.
- Be kind to myself.
- And lastly, though I could go on, laugh laugh laugh at why WordPress has famous nuns and Saint Peter as recommended highlighted links down below this as I type. Hmmmm….
A noise outside wakes me up. It wakes Weston as well. He moves slightly, growls toward the window, and then stands up. I know I’m in trouble. Outside the wind tosses the branches against each other. It’s a nice sound. I can’t go back to sleep, but want to. Thinking I’ll have a better chance I get up and head to the bathroom, Weston decides he needs to get up as well. Padding in toward the dog door I open it so he can go out. We both do our business and it’s time to head back to bed. He won’t get in unless I let him go first, so he jumps up and then I get in behind him. It’s time to spoon. Yes, yes, I know.
Weston loves to cuddle. He is one of the most affectionate dogs I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what it is, but he’s always been like this. Maybe it’s because he came into our lives when he was younger than he should have been. Maybe he has always been, since that first day, treated like our child. Maybe it’s just that he’s so emotional. Whatever the reason, he loves a good cuddle. His two favorite cuddling positions are one, laying on his back while I cradle him and pet his belly as we sit in a recliner. And two… morning snuggle time. He loves to spoon. This is hilarious, but true.
Weston is, after all, a little creature of habit, just like his sister. He’s also a smart one. A pain in the ass to be sure, but that’s a post for another time. I’m usually on my side with my arm out. He lays right up against me, over my arm, puts his head on the pillow, and then wants me to put my other hand on his back. He also likes it if he’s so close that my head sort of lays on him and the pillow at the same time. It’s so funny. And yes, I sometimes cuddle him. He gets a couple of minutes of this and sometimes longer if I actually fall asleep in this position. It cracks me up. He would like this to happen every day, which it doesn’t, but he’d very much like it if it did.
His little sister has her thing too…
We get ready for bed and all get in. Each dog in their little dog beds on our bed. We all sort of relax and just when it gets quiet and mellow, Riley decides she needs to get back up. She stands up, one of us says to her, OK… go get a drink. She jumps down, goes to the water bowl, drinks really loudly for a tiny 10 pound dog, jumps back up, and lays back down. Every night, same routine.
Bedtime. 9:30 rolls around and they both get surly and disgusted if we don’t go to bed. If we are in the media room Riley is in a dog bed on a chair and Weston is usually asleep on the couch or laying on me. One of us gets up to get a drink or something and they both sit up, on alert, waiting for us to say the magic words… time for bed. They will even jump down, start to head upstairs in the hope that it’s time. We have to say to them… not yet. Not quite yet. Being the little creatures of habit that they are it’s tough for them to alter their course.
Ah well… the wind is still blowing out there now. The sun is up and so are we. I’m sitting on the couch in the living room typing away around Riley, who is laying on my lap. Yes, it’s hard to type with a dog in ones lap. Weston is laying next to me, pressed up against my leg. It’s time for breakast though and they are starting to let me know. Riley has just jumped up and gotten in my face. Weston keeps nudging me. OK, OK… I get the message. Loud and clear. Don’t want to mess with the routine…