Haunted By a Wonder(ful) Dog

If you've been following my blog for awhile, you know that I frequently have mentioned Fresca the Wonder Dog.  Fresca was my "Velcro Puppy."  Fresca joined our family twelve years ago, shortly after our Shetland Sheepdog passed away.  She stuck so close to me that I often found myself tripping over her as I'd turn to go into another room.  She had appointed herself my personal bodyguard and she took her duties seriously.  To that end, she protected me from every person or car that went past our front yard as she darted from living room to guest bedroom, checking their progress through the windows as she tried to hurry them along with fierce barking.  Fresca was a dog with an attitude.  As one trainer told us, "If Fresca was human, she'd have pink hair, a nose ring, and a major attitude."  Yup!

Fresca was a bundle of energy.  She outlived four cats and one canine cousin.  But recently she was diagnosed with serious heart disease.  It was most likely congenital.  With her enlarged heart, it would press against her trachea and constrict her airway, causing her to do some horrible coughing.  Her diagnosis was made in early Spring and I became a regular at the only veterinary heart specialist in the area.  He put her on heart medication and told me that it was incurable but maybe we could slow things down.  We couldn't slow HER down, even with the coughing.

Last Thursday evening, I headed up the stairs to bed and noticed that she was doing more coughing than usual.  As I drifted off to sleep, I thought it was settling down.  It wasn't.  By morning, it was obvious that she was still struggling to breathe.  If I stroked her throat and massaged her neck, she would calm down for a bit but soon would start coughing again....those horrible, racking coughs.  It was time!  The Commander had to take her to the vet to be put to sleep.  I couldn't do it.  I was hysterical.  In fact, I cried so hard that it is only today that I don't feel like I have cracked ribs.

That first day without her, I couldn't even stand to look at any reminders.  I took all of her things and packed them up.  I could give most of them to my daughter for her dogs.  I only kept one thing.....a little stuffed cow toy that had been one of her favorites.  It's sitting in the guestroom on the dresser, looking out the window.

She's been gone for five days now but I still feel her presence everywhere.  When I drive up to the house, I glance at the windows expecting to see her peeking out at me.   If I get ready to go out on errands, I find myself whispering the usual litany under my breath , "I'll be right back.  You guard the house."

Whenever I go up or down stairs, I find myself moving to the side to make room for her.  She would always insist on streaking past me so she could beat me to the top or bottom of the steps.  When I sit in the recliner watching TV, I glance over toward the fireplace and expect to see her napping beside it. There are no more circle of dog toys left around my feet to try to entice me to stop knitting and play instead.  Today I caught myself dozing off and woke with a start, surprised that Fresca hadn't woken me by her usual whining when she'd notice that I'd fallen asleep.  I drop food as I cook and am surprised that now I have to clean the crumbs off the floor because she's not there to gobble things up.

I find myself getting up from the computer and starting to say, "It's ok...Mommy will be right back," but there is no Fresca there.  It's SO quiet.  No barking.  No clattering of nails on the flooring.  No staring at me as the clock gets close to mealtime.

I keep glancing out the kitchen window to see if she is waiting on the back step to come inside after a "potty break."  I make the bed in the mornings and have to catch myself to keep from patting the comforter to give her the signal that it's ok to jump up on the bed for her morning tummy rub.   I pulled off a clump of dog hair fluff from one of the chairs in the living room today and was reluctant to throw it in the trash.

 Last night I went around turning off the lights before heading upstairs to bed and again I found myself whispering to a ghost, "I'm going to bed now.  You have a good night."

I like to think she's up in doggy heaven chasing her cousin, Kaiser and annoying him to no end by squeezing into places that he's way too big to get into.  Or maybe she's gone slumming and located her furry feline siblings...Pug, Miss Daisy, Sgt. Streak, and Smokey.  If so, they're all probably enjoying a rambunctious game of tag right now.

Gosh, I miss her.  She may have been a handful but she was a good and faithful dog.  I'll leave you with several of my favorite blog posts of her antics.  For all of you dog lovers, enjoy! And give your furry ones an extra hug today in memory of Fresca.

Fresca the Wonder Dog Strikes Again

Mush, You Varmints, Mush!

Fresca the Wonder Dog

We had to put our beautiful Fresca, the Wonder Dog to sleep yesterday.  The pain is still too much to blog about it yet.  However, here are a few of her everyday moments captured on YouTube.

We brought my mother home from the nursing home for the day several years ago and Fresca's reaction was   exuberant, to say the least.

Fresca would usually follow me from the dining room table into the kitchen after meals, walking on her hind legs and hoping that I'd drop some food so she'd get a bite.

George was much better at getting her to balance a treat on her nose before eating it.

Where are the Nitro Pills?

Since Fresca the Wonder Dog's diagnosis of congestive heart failure last week, I've been wrapping my head around the thought of her mortality and the need for daily heart meds the rest of her days.  It's been hard to believe, most days, that this scrappy, feisty little thing could have a problem but I can't deny that her persistent cough has really improved since we started her on the meds.

Today we had the consult with the veterinarian heart specialist.  They had predicted freezing rain overnight and it was pretty foggy and misting this morning so I gave myself plenty of time to go up and over the mountain to this remote vet clinic.  The staff had stressed the fact that I needed to arrive 15 minutes before my appointed time.  I made it there with 15 minutes to spare.

I'd never seen an animal hospital where they had separate waiting rooms for cats and dogs.  I guess most of their clientele have bad tickers so they try to minimize the stress as much as possible.  Luckily, any animals already there were in examining rooms so Fresca and I had the waiting room to ourselves.

She was pretty quiet until she spotted several men approaching the front door.  She must not like the typical "Perry County" look because these fellows personified it, meaning they looked like they had just set their rifles down while out hunting critters and taken a quick side trip to the clinic.  They soon left and we were back to Fresca shaking on my lap.

Suddenly Fresca perked up and gave a low growl.  Pretty soon I heard the clicking of canine nails on the linoleum and a BIG but ancient black Lab bounded around the corner and came right for me.  Now he wasn't acting threatening in any way.  I think he planned to lick me to death.  But Fresca perceived him as a threat and I managed to grab her in mid-launch and mid-snarl while the Lab's owner came around the corner.  The poor old guy (the dog, not the owner) looked like he'd just lost another year off his lifespan as he faced my 15 1/2 pounds of "white death", struggling to have at him.  Wisely, his owner got a better grip on the dog's leash and took him out to her car before heading back in to pay the bill.

We waited some more.  By now we were an hour past our appointment time.  Fresca the Wonder Dog is no chihuahua.  My legs were beginning to get a little tired.  Finally we were brought back into an examining room and the technician said the doctor would be with us soon.

The minutes ticked by.  Another hour came and went.  It wouldn't have been so bad but there was a big sign on the wall that said cellphone use was not allowed because of the sensitive equipment used in the building.  I couldn't even read my Kindle on my iPhone. There are only so many ways to read the canine and feline anatomy charts before you start to go stir-crazy.

Then the doctor arrived.  One blood pressure reading, one EKG, one echocardiogram, one set of xrays, one blood work-up, two sets of new meds, and one exam later, and I was standing at the counter waiting for the receptionist to give me the bill.  She did and, if I'd had some nitro pills, I would have been reaching for them.  I almost had a heart attack myself.  The diagnosis?  Fresca has severe mitrovalve disease, high blood pressure, and Blepharitis of both eyes.  My diagnosis?  Severe poverty.  Oh, no...wait.  I mean, I'll be eating hot dogs and macaroni and cheese until the next payday.  Luckily, I enjoy both.

And that's how I came to find myself at my local pharmacy this afternoon handing over a prescription for one of the heart meds.   The clerk asked me for my insurance card.  I said, "It's for my dog."

"Which dependent is that?"  she asked.

"The white, furry one," I answered.

I'm now on their Super Saver Plan which means we'll get the meds at a very good price.  Since Fresca doesn't know how to write, they've got me down as her "designated human" and I can sign for her meds.  Boy, do I need some chocolate!

You Want Me to Keep HER Calm?

Fresca, the Wonder Dog had to have surgery today to have a big tumor removed from the side of her neck.  Since it was the size of a small potato, you would think it would have slowed her down a tad.  You would think wrong.  We are talking about 17 pounds of pure adrenalin here, folks.  Nothing slows this dog down.

When I took her in to the vet's office this morning, she was her usual "talkative" self.  She was giving everyone in the office a piece of her mind.  Since she had foregone breakfast because of the upcoming operation, she was miffed and I can only guess what she was saying.  Then we had to go through her usual drill of her trying out every chair in the waiting room.  She hops up on a chair, looks around, barks and then jumps down and hops on to the next chair.  Luckily, the only other person and dog in the room had beat a hasty retreat soon after we arrived so we had the entire waiting room to ourselves.

Fresca's vet walked into the room and said, "OK, Wild Child...we're ready for you now."

He looked her over, we consulted for a few minutes and then he told me that he'd be calling around 10 a.m. to give me an update.  If all went well, I could pick her up after 4, depending on how soon she came out of the anesthesia.

I came home and said a quick prayer.  I even asked my Facebook friends to pray for her.  I figured if God cared about sparrows than He must also care about dogs.

My son responded, "Yes, Mom, but Fresca would EAT those sparrows if she could."


Our vet called me as planned to say that all had gone well and the tumor had been removed "fairly easily."  We have to wait for the biopsy results to see if there is anything else we need to know but the results won't be ready for a week or so.  Our vet also threw in a teeth cleaning while she was out.  Yay!  He went on to say that Fresca was already awake and he sounded surprised.  I wasn't.  Frankly, I was surprised that she was knocked out long enough for the surgery.  That dog is a perpetual motion machine.

When I went over to pick her up this afternoon, the nurse gave me her post-op instructions.

1.  I am to feed her lightly and make sure she eats slowly.  (This is the dog who gulps down her meal in 30 seconds flat.)

2.  I am to see that she doesn't jump around.  (This is the dog who can jump on and off a couch faster than I can say "No" AND change direction in mid-leap.)

3.  I am to keep her calm and quiet for 1-2 weeks.  (Sure!)

I started to laugh at this point.  "You have to understand, " I said, "that the words, 'calm' and 'Fresca' do NOT go together in the same language.  And to make matters worse, my son and his family will be arriving next week and she hasn't seen them in a year.  She is going to go ballistic when they arrive.  There's no way that she'll stay calm.  She'll be really excited."

The nurse went into the back to get Fresca and soon I heard the frantic scurry of nails on linoleum coming from the back rooms.  So much for calm, I thought.

"My," the nurse wheezed as she strained to hold Fresca's leash, "she certainly seems anxious to leave here."

I managed to get in a "Thanks" and grab my receipts before Fresca dragged me out the door and over to the car.  I no sooner had the door open than she jumped up on the seat before I could even stoop to assist her.

"Well, girl, looks like it takes more than a tumor to keep a Wonder Dog down," I remarked and we headed for home, with Fresca panting in my ear.

Peter Pan With an Attitude

 I had to take Fresca, the Wonder Dog in to see the vet today yet again.  I'd noticed a small red growth on the side of her neck last month.  At first I had thought it was a tick but after examining it closely, I concluded that it was some type of growth.  It didn't seem to be bothering her so I decided to let it go for a bit and see what happened.  Well, this past week, I noticed that it was getting a little bigger so I made an appointment to have it examined.

Turns out that it was a sebaceous cyst.  The vet examined her and just pinched it off with his fingers, actually in several pieces.  Fresca was a VERY good girl while all this was going on.  The vet explained that these types of cysts are benign and pretty common.  They fill up with a funky fluid and can return unless you remove the actual cyst underneath the skin but he said, unless it bothered me, it wasn't really necessary.  I guess what he pinched off was the fluid-filled sac.  Probably more info than you need, right?

Anyway, all was well until we came back out into the waiting area and face-to-face with a huge German Shepherd.  Right away, Fresca tried to fake him out by giving him some "attitude."  The poor big lout just sat there looking at her as cool as a cucumber and then looked away.  I felt sorry for the little boy who was obviously with the owner.  The kid had a terrified look on his face and his hands over his ears.

"I know, Honey," I said.  "She's small but she's loud.  And she's not behaving very well, is she?"

Fresca eventually settled down but any time the other dog glanced her way, she'd immediately start up again as if to say, "Hey, Bubba!  You lookin' at ME?"  The bigger dog would quickly look away.

One of the secretaries leaned over the counter.  "Is Fresca really 10 years old?  I just can't believe it.  She looks and acts like such a puppy," she exclaimed.

"That's Fresca," I replied.  "Just think of her as Peter Pan with an attitude."

As we left the veterinary office, I glanced back.  The poor kid still had his hands over his ears.  He's probably traumatized for life now anytime he sees a cute little white dog.

But despite the noise and the attitude, I have to say that Fresca the Wonder Dog is still just a little cream puff to me.

Fresca and Mini-Me

Well, the time finally arrived for us to go down to visit with Laura and Jason and meet our new grand-pup.  We also took Fresca, the Wonder Dog down to meet little Sadie Ann for the first time.  Sadie has been wanting another little friend to play with, according to Laura, and has been pestering the cat no end but to no avail.  So we thought that perhaps Fresca could give Sadie some playtime.

Poor Sadie!  About the only thing that she and Fresca have in common is the fact that they both love to eat.  Apart from that, Fresca showed NO inclination to play with this adorable little puppy.  From the moment Fresca arrived and we let her loose in their fenced backyard, she just roamed around, sniffing everything and "marking" the trees (again and again) but when Sadie finally got up the courage to come over and check Fresca out, our dog completely ignored her.

As the day progressed, Sadie got braver and started following Fresca around, occasionally sneaking a sniff here and there but when Fresca would turn around, Sadie would plop down and roll over on her side and "play dead."  Obviously this is NOT a dominant dog.  Fresca would take one look and just walk off.

Now Sadie is a real "love bug" and if you sat down, she would come racing over to get on your lap to give you kisses.  "Grandpa" found this out when he sat on the couch.  He's not much for doggy kisses so they had a little heart to heart talk.

She decided to give Grandpa a little space but she still had to try to have the upper hand, so to speak.  Well, that was a little too much for Fresca the Wonder Dog to take and so Fresca decided to claim a lap for herself as well.

I guess Fresca decided that if Sadie could try to worm her way into the Commander's heart than perhaps Fresca could lay claim to Sadie's "Daddy's" lap.

I decided that I'd better sit down so I could entice Fresca away, which worked and soon Sadie was over by her papa and attempting to imitate his stance.  How cute is that?

But Fresca had made her way over to sit on Laura's lap and that was a little too much for Miss Sadie, who decided that she'd better go investigate who was laying claim to her "Mommy."

Eventually they got tired of the lap game and Sadie fell asleep on a pillow and had to be carried off to bed while Fresca got to stay up with the grownups.

We also celebrated the Commander's birthday while we were down there.  I hadn't checked with Laura to see what they were going to be getting him.

So imagine my surprise when he opened his gift and pulled out the EXACT same gift that I had hidden in my closet to give him tomorrow on his actual birthday.  Oh, dear!  Luckily I have another present in the mail.  I can't remember though where I bought MY set and I didn't keep the receipt.  "That will larn me", as my mom says.

When I looked around and saw everyone falling asleep on the couch, I figured it was time to head on home.  We packed up Fresca and made the drive back to PA.  I guess Sadie will have to look elsewhere for a playmate.  Apparently, Fresca considers herself too grownup for such nonsense.  Dogs, you gotta love 'em.

Short and Still Sassy

Today marked an annual ritual - Fresca's Spring trip to the groomer for her summer clip.  Right about this time of year, she fully resembles one of those Chia pets and the house becomes adrift in clumps of white fur.  I try to keep up with it all, I really do!  But no matter how often I vacuum the floors, wipe down the furniture, and brush the dog, I simply can't keep up with the volume of Fresca's coat.

Lately, the Commander has been dropping not-so-subtle hints that it might be time to take Fresca in to be shaved down.  So today was the day.  I was rather dreading the drive over to the groomer with her because she's not exactly the calmest dog in the pack and usually bounces off the insides of the car on the back seat while I drive.  Plus they are still doing major construction on a big chunk of the route I was going to have to take and I knew that this would set her off even more.  She'd take it as a personal affront that heavy equipment would dare try to produce more noise than her.

We got there just fine and the groomer even finished her ahead of schedule (hmmm, maybe they just got tired of listening to her "talking" to them and figured they'd speed up the process).  Back I went and sure enough, as soon as she spotted me, the vocalization reached fever pitch.  One poor Yorkie looked like he didn't know if he should faint or run for cover.  I paid my bill as fast as I could and Fresca dragged me out the door.

As soon as we got back home, she insisted on going out into her backyard area where she pranced about, hoping that one of the neighbor dogs would come out and take notice.  When Fresca has her short clip, she always gets a little more spring in her step (if that's even possible) and even MORE attitude.  Heaven help us all!

In honor of Fresca's grooming, today's free graphic is an old valentine my Mom received years ago.  I love the little dog by the chalkboard, don't you?

Who's Calling Who Geriatric?

My poor baby pup had to make a trip to the emergency veterinary clinic this past weekend. Thursday, if you will recall, she terrorized her regular vet's office but they couldn't find what was wrong with her. On Friday, she still wasn't keeping anything down but the vet suggested just keeping an eye on her over the weekend to see if things calmed down. By Saturday, she hadn't been able to keep food in her stomach since Thursday, was lethargic, and would frequently bite at her side.

One of my friends suggested various possible diagnoses but they just didn't seem to fit. I'd checked her ears....no mites. Checked her body for evidence of fleas....none, zip, nada! Had never seen any evidence of worms in her stools....thank you very much. She just seemed to be in pain and was upchucking in the most inconvenient places. It was time for some drastic action.

We made an appointment with the local emergency vet clinic and headed over there that evening. I covered the back seat in case she got sick again but thank goodness, she didn't. I did keep smelling something and was wondering if she'd had an accident (horrors!). Turns out the poor baby had a bad case of canine gas as part of this malaise. It shouldn't have surprised me. I mean, she IS a member of our family.

The vet quickly got her into an examining room and after some poking and prodding decided to keep her overnight and hook her up to an IV. She was dehydrated for starters. They also wanted to run some tests to check for possible Addison's disease, pancreatitis, blockage, and liver and kidney problems. Thankfully, around 1 a.m., the vet called us to report that her tests had come back ruling out Addison's and the xrays showed no sign of blockage or masses. Liver and kidneys were fine as was the bloodwork. It looked like she had gastro-intestinal flu.

They released her Sunday around suppertime. She came out much more energetically then she had entered. They had to shave her legs to get the IV hooked up. She would NOT let them keep it in one leg so they had to shave the other and she did let them keep it in the other leg. So now she has a semi-poodle clip. It's really amazing to me that a dog that is so fluffy with all that hair has such tiny little legs under all that fur.

What was more amazing (perhaps "shocking" is the better word) was the bill. Man, perhaps we should have looked into pet medical insurance. I wonder if Obama is going to include pets in his universal health care plan? What was even MORE distressing, though, was when I looked at her discharge papers and noticed that they had labeled her at the top of every sheet as a "geriatric canine." WHAT? She's only 8 years old. She has more pep and spunk than many 8 month old dogs I see. My husband pointed to the papers and I hissed, "Don't you DARE read that out loud." Bad enough that she felt like horse hockey. No need to make her feel any worse.

The good news is that today she is much better. She's getting a diet of boiled chicken and rice and she is keeping it all down. Her energy level is rising and she is grinning again. I had to take her back to her regular vet this afternoon for a follow-up and she seems to be on the road to recovery. She was back to terrorizing the waiting room occupants again. Thank goodness she has no clue that the animal professionals consider her to be "geriatric." As for me, I'm a firm believer in the old adage that "you're as young as you feel." Come on, pup! Let's go watch Cloris Leachman kick up her heels on "Dancing with the Stars."

Fresca, the Wonder Dog, Strikes Again

It's been one of those days. I knew it was headed south when I came downstairs this morning for breakfast and noticed the roll of paper towels sitting on the dining room table along with the floor cleaner spray. That usually means I'm going to be "treated" to an explanation of something that my dear hubby had to clean up when HE came down for breakfast before me.

I didn't have long to wait. It seems our dog, Fresca...a miniature American Eskimo, had a little accident in the night plus she had thrown up. This is very unlike her. She just doesn't have accidents in the house.

As I sat there mulling this over, I noticed that Fresca was acting very strange. She was acting even more neurotic than she usually does. First she'd jump up into one chair, turn around in circles and plop down. Then, two seconds later, she'd stand up and jump down and go to the other chair and repeat the same process.....turning, turning, turning and then plopping down. Two seconds later she'd jump down and turn her circles on the floor. She just couldn't seem to get settled and this turning had me baffled. If I didn't know that she had been spayed 7 years earlier, I would have thought she was trying to nest.

I watched her throughout the morning as she twisted her blanket in my craft room into a heap going through her circling and rooting motions and then did the same thing to the bedspread and blankets in the guest room. This was getting downright wierd. So I called her vet and made an appointment to bring her over in the afternoon.

Let me just say that I HATE taking Fresca to the vet because she always makes a big scene while we are there. We merely have to walk in the door and she starts with the attitude. Today was no exception. You know, looking at her you would think that Fresca is this happy, little ball of fluff. Well, that little fluff ball turns into a tiger when she arrives at the vet's office. We careened into the waiting room and I barely had enough time to slap the urine sample (and that's a whole 'nother story which I won't go into) on the receptionist's counter before she tried to take on a Rhodesian Ridgeback. He didn't look too impressed so she peered around for other victims.


Before we were called into the examining room, she had terrorized two tiny Yorkies, one of which had to be taken outside into the fresh air by his owner because I think the little thing fainted. Fresca berated a nervous Shih Tzu so loudly that the poor thing had an accident on his owner's lap. "Don't worry," the owner graciously assured me as she pulled out a kleenex. "I needed a stool sample anyway."


The door opened and a big, black lab started in. One look at Fresca's yapping face and the poor thing tried to escape back out the door so fast that it almost knocked its owner over. During all this, I was trying all of the Dog Whisperer's tricks I could think of, to no avail. I think it would have taken an elephant tranquilizer to get "calm and submissive" at this point.


We finally got in to see the vet, who got so fed up with Fresca's attitude that she hoisted her up, carried her to the back and muzzled her to finish the exam. That was fine with me. I was just glad for a little peace and quiet. After all that drama and $80 later, they couldn't find anything wrong with her. Her vocal chords were certainly fine because she had to give the waiting room another piece of her mind while I paid the bill.


One dog owner gallantly said, "Beautiful animal. American Eskie?"


"Yup," I shouted over the din.


"They've got a lot of energy," he continued.


"You can say that again," I responded and then we beat a hasty retreat out the door. Well, in Fresca's case it was more like a "charge." As we headed for the car, we passed the Yorkie and his owner who was cradling him like a baby.


"It's safe now. You can take him inside," I assured him. "This bad girl's going home."

If Only It Were That Easy!

Whoever coined the phrase "It's a dog's life", must not have been a dieter. Because between you and me, my dog has it made in the shade when it comes to dieting. Not that she's overweight. Heavens, no! She just has such a thick coat of fur that it always looks like she is about 10 pounds heavier than she actually is.

Now that's Fresca on the left, the white dog who looks like a Chia pet. She's sitting next to her little buddy, Schatze who you've met in some earlier posts. Seriously, the dog has a LOT of hair. And I find that hair everywhere....on the furniture, rolling around on the floors, in my mouth when she jumps up on my lap, and always in my knitting.

The vet makes the same comment every year when I take her in for her yearly shots and checkup. He always says, "Wow, I thought she might be overweight but she's not. There's actually just a little dog under all this hair."

So in the summer months, I usually break down and have her fur shaved down close to her skin to give her some relief from the heat. This causes my son no end of embarassment because he says she looks ridiculous. I think she looks cute. What Fresca thinks is up for interpretation. The point is, after an hour at the groomer's, she comes prancing out looking like she's shed ten pounds.

If only it were that easy for us fluffy human girls. Even if someone shaved my head, I'd still look big. And I wouldn't come prancing out of the beauty shop either.
Yup, sometimes a dog's life looks pretty good. You get pampered, powdered, 10 pounds shaved off you in an hour, AND they hand you a treat to eat as you go out the door. What a life!

Mush, You Varmints, Mush!

My first mistake was thinking that the window guy was coming at 1 p.m. to measure the dormer windows upstairs. I had a nagging feeling that I might have made a mistake when I put that time on the calendar last week but my hubby had caught me napping at the computer when he called to inform me of the upcoming appointment. I was still a little groggy when he told me what time the guy would be coming over but I really thought he had said 1.

That left me plenty of time to run to the bank this morning and then on to the post office. From there I decided to take a quick detour over to the grocery store to see if they had my favorite detergent. I successfully sidestepped the donut aisle, got sucked in by the cake table in the back and then made a mad dash to the cash register with a peanut butter frosted cake under one arm and the "prophetically titled" Gain detergent under the other arm.

From there it was just a short hop, skip, and a jump back to the house. My mouth was already salivating over that peanut butter frosting as I drove down our street and toward the house. Horrors! There was a strange car in the driveway and it was only 11:30 a.m. The window guy was already here and waiting.

"Sorry," I breathlessly shouted as I pushed the garage door opener on the fly as I darted out of the car. "I thought you were coming at 1."

"No, I was supposed to be here at noon so I'm actually a little early," he replied, following me into the garage.

"Look, you'll have to stay right here for just a minute while I corral the dogs," I ordered and squeezed in the side door before my canine protector could charge outside.

"Fresca," I shouted in my best command voice, "Come here. Stop that barking! Schatze, get over here."

Schatze is Fresca's best friend and we're dogsitting her while her humans are away on vacation. She's pretty harmless but she's loud. Fresca, on the other hand, is loud AND protective so I don't like to take any chances with that furball.

"Fresca, get downstairs RIGHT NOW!" She flew past me and I managed to head her off at the hallway and funnel her down the basement steps. Schatze took one look at the basement, looked at me as if to say, "Yeah, right" and flew into the living room and my husband's favorite chair, ready to stand lookout. "Divide and conquer," I thought and headed down to the basement where I did my best Dog Whisperer impression and finally manhandled Fresca into the back room and got the door shut. I could tell by the din that she wasn't too pleased but both entrances into the back room were shut so Fresca was safely out of play.

I ran back upstairs and headed over to Schatze who decided this was a new game of Tag, leaping off the chair and between my legs before I could say "Stay" and the chase was on. Little dogs are quick. "Schatze," I thundered, "Get over here. " I pointed to the guestroom door and drew myself up to my full "Mistress of My Domain" height. She looked at me with big eyes and then I swear to you, she stomped her foot and tried to dart past me. She was quick but I was quicker and I had her signed, sealed, and delivered to that bedroom before she could say "Ruff."

I dimly became aware that the phone was ringing and I wearily grabbed it on my way back to the garage door. It was my dear husband calling to tell me that the window guy was going to be there early. At least I think he was telling me that because I could barely hear him with the dogs barking. "Thanks," I snarled. "He's been out in the garage for the past 10 minutes while I've been trying to get the dogs corralled." George knows when to cut and run. "OK, bye!" was all he said.

I finally got the poor window guy into the house and up to the top floor to do the measuring. "You can take off that curtain if you need to," I told him. "It's on a pressure....." Rowwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrr! I suddenly heard a commotion that seemed to be a lot closer than the basement. "Holy cow," I blurted, "I think one of the dogs is out."

I flew out of the room, slamming the door shut on the poor guy. As I headed down the stairs, a white streak was heading up in full voice. Fresca had somehow gotten one of the basement doors open and was on her way to do battle.

"Hold it right there!" I screeched. "You are a BAD GIRL, Fresca Porterfield. Get down here this instant." She reversed direction, still barking up a storm, and flashed past me. "To heck with the basement," I thought, and grabbed her ruff and guided her into the guestroom where she joined her cohort in crime.

I was just heading up the stairs to tell the fellow that the dogs were shut up again when he peeked around the corner. "I'm all done measuring," he said. "I'll send the estimate in the mail. I'll just go back out through the garage, if that's ok?" And he beat a hasty retreat. It was probably the fastest service call I'd ever experienced.

"OK, you varmints, you can come out now," I said as I opened the guestroom door. Two furry bodies streaked past me yapping in soprano and uber-soprano. They raced to the front windows and checked to make sure the offender was gone. He was. Then they calmly walked to their beds and sat down like two little angels. Mission accomplished!

Dogsitting Schatze

I've been dogsitting Schatze, who happens to be my dog's best friend. Schatze is a little Shih Tzu mix and she and Fresca, our Miniature American Eskimo have been best buddies since they were puppies. They have a great time guarding our house from every imaginable predator in the neighborhood. "Imaginable" is the key word here. They see a predator in every person who walks by the house and every car that drives past. So it has been a noisy weekend as they've raced from the front bedroom windows to the living room windows and then strutted proudly by, looking at me as if to say, "Heh, heh....chased THAT one off, too!"

At any rate, my mom LOVES Schatze so I went over to the Assisted Living facility where she stays and brought her home to spend an overnight with us. After a joyous reunion with the dogs, they all settled in the living room for a piano concert. I played and the dogs and Mom sat attentively and listened. When I complained to Schatze's owners that she hadn't clapped after each number, they said, "Well, at least the dogs didn't howl."

As I turned off the lights last evening, Schatze curled up with Mom and the two slept snuggly in the same twin bed. It was a sight to behold. This morning, they were still cuddled up together. By the way, Schatze is a licensed therapy dog. If any of you have toyed with the idea of taking your dogs through the classes and training for that program, I'd highly recommend it. Just seeing the way Mom and Schatze interact together is proof to me that an animal with the proper temperament can really make a difference in a person's day, even someone suffering from various stages of dementia.

After tucking Mom and Schatze into bed, Fresca and I joined hubby George downstairs in the family room and watched a few episodes of the Dog Whisperer on National Geographic. They must have been running a marathon of past episodes. It was fascinating, as always, to watch. And I had some much-needed time to unwind and do some crocheting on my prayer cloths. Since I've joined the prayer-cloth ministry Yahoo group, I'm having a great time trying the different patterns out, especially since these little cloths don't take a long time to knit or crochet. I shall put a link to the group's homepage up as soon as I can get my husband to show me how to do so. In the meantime if you try this link: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Prayer_Cloth_Ministry/ it should take you to the homepage of the group where you can read about this great ministry.