Grandparent PT

Life with the grandkids....Day Six!  I must admit that I am feeling my age.  I am beginning to think that perhaps I should have done some advance physical training for this trip.  A life of knitting, reading, and writing does NOT exactly prepare you for 24-hour-days with little kidlets.    My normal physical exercise consists of walking to the refrigerator, back to the table, over to my computer desk, and to the recliner.  That's it, if you don't count trips here and there in the car.  My last exertion was yoga class and I wasn't exactly a star pupil in that, was I?

This visit Sweet Pea has delighted in wanting her Nana to get down on floor level to play with her.  I try to come up with creative reasons why I can supervise the play from a comfy chair but she isn't buying it.  So down on the floor I go.  Ouch!  Jeepers, it was a lot easier crawling around on my knees when I was Spud's age and MUCH lighter.  Thankfully, Sweet Pea hasn't suggested that I play the part of a "beached whale" yet.

That may look like a smile to you in the above picture but it's a grimace of pain.  Trust me!  I know what's coming.  I have to get up.  I actually tried the excuse of "Nana might not be able to get up if she gets down on the floor" today but bless her little heart, Sweet Pea brightly offered to help me up.  How could I resist that?  Back to the floor we went for some more play time.

Even PawPaw isn't immune to floor exercise with the kidlets.  Spud had him on his knees to do some puzzle work today.  He was smarter than I was, though.  He ended up stretched out flat on the floor and managed to convince Sweet Pea to carry some pillows over to him to prop under his head.    Maybe in my case I should just bypass pillows and teach Sweet Pea to dial 9-1-1 or perform CPR.

There is one exertion that I'm a pro at, however, and one that my body seems to be uniquely qualified for.  That is cuddling with the little ones.  I've got plenty of soft padding and lots of room for them to climb aboard to read, grab a quick drink, or just snuggle.

I'm definitely going to try to lose some of this extra weight before my next visit, though, AND stock up on Ibuprofen before I head down again.  Maybe some gardening knee pads would be a good idea, too.   It's all worth it, though, isn't it, for the joys of grandparenting?

Mr. Lion, Mr. Lion.....Where Art Thou?

Day Five with the Grandkids and I'm still standing.  Well, that's when I'm not crawling around on the floor playing with them.  Today, Sweet Pea wasn't feeling very well so her mommy brought out the "big guns"....a container of lots of little cars and we had a LONG playtime with them.

Somehow it became a mash-up of playing cars and playing "zoo" because we also added two lions, two cows, and a sea turtle to the mix.

Oh, and did I mention the airplane that was buzzing the whole scene with various pilots, including one rather crazy sea turtle and a rabbit?

Mr. Lion, Senior decided to go on "walkabout" and kept disappearing and then we'd have to stop our play to try to figure out where he had headed off to.  Usually, he was discovered in a pillowcase but once he somehow made it all the way into Sweet Pea's parents' bedroom.

Mr. Lion even had the audacity to make a little "cave" in my pants leg and he fooled us all for several minutes until one of the cows stumbled across him as he was "moooooving" up my leg.

In the meantime, Spud was playing the role of "Godzilla" and moving through the area creating general havoc amongst the cars and trucks, throwing them with glee.  I told Sweet Pea that we should pretend that Spud was a hurricane.

It was finally time for lunch and time for the Commander and I to head out to Home Depot.  We left Sweet Pea in charge of the wildlife.  A fun time was had by all, despite aches and pains and some upset tummies.

It's Tough Being a Tot But....

 Today we headed off to the Children's Museum in Houston with Sweet Pea and Spud and their mommy in tow.  Mom was going to get some much-deserved time alone to study while we watched the kidlets in the toddler section of the museum.

I had every intention of taking some great pics of them playing but I quickly discovered that it is tough to capture Kodak moments when a little one is in perpetual motion.

I needed a "super-charged" shutter speed.  As it was, I sounded like desperate Italian paparazzi as I cajoled "Daddy Fish, look this way!"   "Nemo, smile for Nana!"   "Turtle, hold still for just one photograph, please!"

The little one in question was trying to be both the driver and the passenger in the mock-up car, which should give you a good idea of the strength of her little personality.

She'd occasionally hop out to gas up the car and even obligingly filled it up for some other tykes, too.  In the meantime, I hovered around like a helicopter parent though I was easily one of the oldest ones in the play area.

Sweet Pea loved playing in the ball bins but it was nigh impossible to get a posed picture of her in them.  She  decided they were like swimming pools and would dive in to one headfirst and then "swim" around in it before lobbing out some balls and then heading out over the side to chase them down before beginning the process all over again.

She was a perpetual motion machine.  Thank goodness she had a striped shirt on because I just followed the blur of color from area to area.  One play spot that I thought she would really enjoy was the little "fort" area with slide and I kept trying to get her over to that.

She finally made her way there and as I started to direct her to the stairs, she blithely walked straight up the slide, to my horror.  I lurched to the slide with my hands at the ready to catch her, should she fall over backwards.

"Now, sit down and slide back down," I said, but before I could finish my sentence, she came tearing down the slide UPRIGHT!  Parents around me were giving me the old evil eye so I clasped her hand and gamely said, "Um, we usually go down a slide on our bum, Honey!"

Back she went up the slide walking it once again but this time I was ready for her and stood ready to catch her, should she need me.  Free spirits!  They keep this world interesting.

In the meantime, brother "Spud" was not a happy camper.  He didn't want to be put down anywhere.  No matter what enticing toy we tried to set him next to, he puckered up and clung to the Commander like a little monkey.  He's teething, too, at least from the amount of drool that he was producing, so I don't think he was feeling his best today.    He DID rally later on the ride home, doing those little "dolphin" chuckles that he does when he's tickled about something.

Tonight they were both exhausted and I could sympathize.  I was tempted to tell Sweet Pea, "Hey, you think you have it bad.  Nana has swollen feet and arthritis in her hip today!"   But then, I'm not a toddler, I'm not teething, and I know I've been getting more sleep than anyone else in the house so I put on my big girl panties and said, "Anyone want Nana to read them some stories?"  The smiles and cuddles were just the medicine I needed.

Lions, Tiggers, and Bears.....Oh, My!

It's our first full day down in Texas with the grandkids and what a difference just a few months have wrought!  When Sweet Pea left us in January, she was insisting on being addressed as "Miss Mika."  Now, however, her imagination has come in like....well, a roaring lion.  She is so many different characters in the course of the day that it leaves my head spinning.

We arrived early yesterday afternoon and she is still refusing to be addressed as Mika.  Let's see, she has been "Worm", "Scar", "Mommy", "Nana", "Daddy Fish", "Christopher Robin", and "Pooh."  I have been, alternately, "Mika", "Butterfly", "Tigger", and "Nemo."

It was quite the experience this morning going to Wal-mart with Sweet Pea and her daddy.  We were informed by a certain little Miss that she was to be called "Nana", I was to be "Mika" and her daddy was to be called "PawPaw."  So there we went around the store with us calling out to each other in our assigned names.  Not many twenty-eight month-olds can carry off the moniker "Nana."

In the meantime, her brother, Luke, can't really tell us what HE wants to be called since he is only communicating currently with grunts, squeals, babbling, and shrieks.  He does certainly get his point across, though.  Occasionally he finds it a little tough to keep up with Big Sis but since he crawled a little further today, I think her days of relative peace are close to being over.

Before bedtime tonight we played "I Spy", Sweet Pea showed me how to solve a wooden brainteaser puzzle in her own delightful way, we showed Brother how to play rhythm band with some pots and pans, did a few victory dances with two of her lions, and then I waved the white flag and put my feet up while Momma took over and put her to bed.

PawPaw is currently snoozing on the couch and I have a feeling that I won't be far behind but I can hear Mika chattering away in her bedroom.  Ah, to have that energy!  Tomorrow we're off on an adventure to the Children's Museum.  I hope I can keep all of our names straight.

Time for Dessert

The desserts are finished.  My assignment for Easter dinner tomorrow is to bring dessert.  My daughter told me that (and I quote) "since you are so picky about your desserts, Mom, I'm going to have you bring them and then I'll be sure that they will be up to your standards."  Okey, dokey!  As most of you know by now, dessert is something that I'm VERY familiar with.

I decided to make some peanut butter pies.  I am trying a new recipe (always a gamble but how can one go wrong with peanut butter pie, eh?).  First I had to beat the cream cheese, confectioner's sugar, and the peanut butter together in the mixer.  Man, that mixer was working hard.  I thought perhaps it would soften up as it mixed but the stuff was in a huge clump on the beater.    The next step called for me to whisk Cool Whip into the mixture and whisk it until it was creamy with NO lumps.  Let's just say that my arms are definitely feeling the burn right now.

I'm glad that I decided to eyeball it and divide the peanut butter stuff in the mixing bowl into two sections and then whisk one section at a time because if I hadn't, I think I'd STILL be whisking away.  It took lots of elbow grease to do half the batch and then I had to dump that in a pie crust and start the process all over again.

I decided to top the pies with some crushed-up Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  These were hard to find at the grocery story the other day.  I was delighted when I finally found some on one of the aisles and grabbed them without realizing that they were the "Dark" version.  I'm hoping this won't make much difference in the final taste.  I put four wrappers' full into a small bowl and then got my handy Pampered Chef's "Mix n' Chop" tool and in less time than it took to say "Yummy", I had a nice little batch of crushed peanut butter cups all set to sprinkle over the top.

The final results look pretty darn good, if I do say so myself.  I think it will pass muster at dinner tomorrow.  Since Dear Daughter is serving Leg of Lamb (and I break out in hives with lamb), I intend to stoke up on appetizers, side dishes and, of course, dessert.

I couldn't stop with just one type of dessert.  I HAD to also bake my Killer Rum Cake.  I wasted ten minutes looking for the darn bundt cake pan (seems I only use that pan for rum cake and Monkey Balls) and in the process, I managed to have several mugs and assorted spice jars fall on my head as I was rummaging around in the cupboards.  When the Commander walked in from the garage after grocery shopping, he took one look at my face (this was after I'd just gotten beaned with the third travel mug) and wisely took the bags of groceries straight through the kitchen and on into the dining room.

Looking at the bright side, the Rum Cake came out looking delish AND I ended up reorganizing two cupboards so all in all, it was a very productive afternoon.  As we head into Easter Sunday, I hope you all have a blessed time with family and/or friends as we celebrate Christ's resurrection.

Lost in Translation?

I was looking over some desserts on the Pinterest site (and if you aren't familiar with Pinterest, you are in for a treat....but that's a topic for another blog posting) and found one for a "Pink Lemonade Dessert with Pretzel Crust" that sounded promising.  You see, I have been tasked with bringing the dessert down to my daughter's house for Easter dinner.    Anyway, I clicked on the link and it took me to the original recipe posting.  Oh, oh....it was in Spanish.  I thought that maybe I could translate most of it but I wasn't entirely confident in my Espanol skills and I didn't want to screw it up.  My son-in-law's parents will be there and in matters of in-laws, you don't want to bring a dud to the dinner table.  Not to worry, though.  My browser had a nice little button that asked, "Do you want me to translate this?"

"Sure, " I thought.  "Why not?"

At first glance, it looked like the translation worked great.  Then I took a closer look.  Hmmm, one of the ingredients was a "container of frozen whipped cream vegetable."  Well, I had some Cool Whip on hand and I DID have a bag of carrots.  If I anointed a few carrot sticks, would that suffice?

I read further.  The rest of the ingredients looked ok.  Now I was into the preparation instructions.  Right away, I figured I had either run into another problem OR baking in Spanish-speaking countries was NOT for wimps.  The instructions told me to chop pretzels and sugar up in my blender and then add butter, light the pipe, arm wrestling to mix well.  Uh, I couldn't find any pipes lying around but I checked out my blender for the best possible handhold for the arm wrestling part.

After the arm wrestling with the blender, the instructions told me to "Press the bark into a glass mold."  Unfortunately, Fresca the Wonder Dog has passed on so I have no bark to press into anything these days.

Now came the part where I was to mix up the filling.  I got the general gist of it (although there WAS that vegetable cream again) until I got to the final part.  I was to pour the remaining cream over a mixture of vegetable lemonade.  Darn!  I didn't have any of that on hand.  All I had was some Arnold Palmer lemonade ice tea.  Maybe I could chuck in some chopped onions or diced carrots to come up with this mysterious lemonade?

All of this interpreting was making my head hurt so I finally decided to regroup and stick with an old, trusty recipe for my killer rum cake.  That always results in sweet goodness that needs no translation, gracias a Dios!

Happy Ending....or Not?

I was at our Knitting Book Club meeting today and, as usual, our opinions of the current book selection were as varied as the knitters at the table.  As we neared the end of our discussion, one of our members said, "You know, what I really liked was the ending.  The main character was right back home where he had started out.  It was a happy ending."

I looked over at her and piped up.  "My goodness, I hated the ending.  I thought it was really depressing.  Good grief, all that effort to escape his environment and he ends up right back home.  I mean, my gosh, I couldn't WAIT to leave home when I was growing up and if I had found myself ending back in my hometown after all those years, I would be devastated!"

"Isn't that interesting," another member piped up.  "Two completely different viewpoints about the same thing.  One person thinks it is a happy ending and the other one finds it depressing."

Guess it's all in your point of view, eh?  I really DID have a happy childhood, I think.  At least, it was fairly normal.  However, I knew from a very early age that I just didn't belong in that city or state.  I never felt like I belonged there and always breathed a sigh of relief when we headed out to my mom's childhood farm at the end of the school year to spend the entire summer in rural Minnesota.  That's where I felt at home.

When I graduated from high school, I practically flew past all the weeping seniors that night and never looked back.  Hasta la vista, Baby!  I was on my way.

I made the obligatory trips home in college for the major holidays but spent my summers taking classes on campus to avoid having to go home and signed up for special field trips between semesters.

After college, I joined the Army and signed up for a duty station in Europe.  I LOVED being overseas although I did make one trip home during my tour over there.

After my enlistment was up, I really did try to return to a normal life but could only stand it for about six months before I ended up enlisting in the Navy.  Remember those silly class predictions they used to do for all the high school seniors?  Hey, I did my part to make them come true.  Mine had said I'd be living in Greece ten years after graduation.

It was an accurate prediction, although I was NOT working as an archaeologist.  Met the Commander in Greece and we married there and enjoyed the rest of our Navy years moving around the U.S. and overseas.   If I had ended up back in my hometown, you bet I would have seen it as a depressing disaster.

It's all in your point of view.  You take the road home and I'll take the road out of town (and I'll probably be singing "Happy Wanderer" as I head out).

A Nonagenarian and Still Causing Problems!

My mom is ninety-eight years old (and well on her way to turning ninety-nine) and she seems to still be stirring up trouble.  Case in point, -----

Today I drove over to the nursing home to visit her and when I walked into her room, her roommate (who looks to be a spry 70ish) stuck her head between the dividing curtains and glared at me.

"Hi, Miss Eva, how are you today," I politely inquired.

"Well, I have a big problem," she responded.

"Oh, no," I replied.  "What's the matter?"

"Her!" Eva answered, pointing at my mother who was lying innocently in her bed.

"My mother?" I said incredulously.  "What's she done?"

"I can't keep her," Eva answered.

"Well, then it's a good thing you don't have to because she doesn't belong to you," I replied.

"But she's HERE!," she persisted.

"That's because she's your roommate," I told her.

"I'm not supposed to have a roommate, " she insisted. (Mind you, Eva is a fairly new addition to my mom's room.)


"Then keep this curtain closed and pretend she's not there," I suggested.

"But it's not my curtain," she answered.

"All the more reason to keep it closed," I said.

I glanced over at Mom.  "Hey, Ma....remember your first roommate.....the one you threw the shoe at?", I asked her.

"No," she answered.

"The one whose husband came up to visit every day," I continued.

"Oh, yes," she replied.  "She was nice."

"Yes, I really liked her.  I think she was the best roommate you ever had," I told her.   (Unfortunately she passed away and the next roommate got it in her head that Mom was trying to steal her husband away from her, even though her husband had passed away and it was a male nurse, not her husband and it was all in her head.   THAT roommate was so obnoxious about the imagined transgression that Mom was transferred to another room where she had a roommate that was just there temporarily on rehab and then departed back home.  Now we have Eva.)


Now I admit that I might have said that last part about the "best roommate" a little louder than necessary out of spite because frankly, I was still a little miffed with Eva over something she'd said last week.  I had arrived to visit Mom and when I walked into the room, Eva took one look at me and said to her daughter (who was visiting), "Oh, no...it's her again.  It's just disgusting.  She's here every day for 3-4 hours at a time."

I was astonished.  I'm usually there twice a week for an hour at a time and I always try to take her off to the library where we can visit and read books together in peace.  Oy!

And here I thought that my days of trying to keep the peace between kids was over.  Guess I'd better dust off my copy of Dr. Spock and try some of those old techniques on Mom and her roommate.

MUCH Easier Than a Full-Course Meal!

I was eating dinner out with the Commander last evening and as I sat there licking BBQ sauce off of my fingers, I said to him, "You know, THIS is why just eating dessert for your meal is SO much more efficient."

He stopped eating his chicken and shrimp and looked at me.

"I mean, just think about it.  It's the perfect meal.  There's usually only one dish, you can finish your meal in less than 20 minutes, and if it's something like a DQ Blizzard, you just throw the cup in the trash when you're done and there's no clean-up afterwards," I explained.

"Plus it's so easy to sit and read while you eat it," I continued.

He shook his head.

Some people get around this by just having "liquid" meals.  That's really not my style.  Why have a drink when you can have dessert?

And I'll be the first to admit that I enjoy eating.  I also enjoy things other than dessert, as long as it has cheese, butter, or something deep-fried associated with it.  I just don't enjoy taking time out of my creative meanderings during the day to stop and fix a complete meal.  For some reason, that creative flow keeps on flowing, though, when all I have to do is get in the car, drive several blocks to the local Dairy Queen, pull up to the drive-through window, pick up my Blizzard, drive home, plop down at the table, turn on my Kindle, and eat my Blizzard while I read for 15 minutes.  Once that Blizzard is history, a quick toss into the garbage can and I'm off and running again (or waddling, as the case may be).

I could see that I wasn't penetrating the Commander's protein-induced haze so I gave up and dunked a few more extra-crispy fries into the mayo and decided that this was a "different strokes for different folks" time, just as my mother used to say.  Or was that my college roommate?

Well, THAT'S my solution to simplifying the meal crises in America.  Forget full-course meals.  Just eat desserts.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get up from the computer and go plan supper.  I rest my case!

Enough, Already!

Have you ever had a song stuck in your head?  If you're like most people, you are all too familiar with the phenomenon.  Well, for the past few nights, I've heard Taylor Swift singing her song "Ours" in my head over and over.  I don't even care all that much for Taylor Swift and her songs.  Having it on endless loop in my head is even less appealing and waking up in the night to hear "Don't you worry your pretty little head....." is a downright nightmare.   Aaaargh!  So how in the world do you get a song unstuck?

One website suggested listening to the sound of your breathing.  I wear a CPAP at night.  Anything that can make it through the noise of that contraption from hell is NOT going to be deterred by the sound of my breathing.

Another suggestion is to start concentrating on a song that is even more annoying and "memorable."  Hey, do I REALLY want to replace Taylor with "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall?"  Not THIS pretty little head!

You can try turning down the volume in your head and see if that works.  Problem is that I was a drama major who enjoyed working in musical theatre, too.  I don't naturally sing softly.  I belt out songs.  I'm not sure I can do "soft."

Some suggest giving in to the "earworm" and singing the tune aloud.  I guess the theory is that you are getting it out of your system that way.  I just don't know.  I wake up a lot in the night and thus am "hearing" that darn song a lot.  If I start belting it out frequently in the wee hours, the Commander is apt to relegate me to the guestroom where I'll find myself singing the blues.

Sigh!  I guess it could be worse.  I could have a heavy metal song (now THERE'S an oxymoron) stuck in my head.  Looks like it makes sense to just relax and enjoy the concert while it lasts and maybe, in the meantime, I'll figure out what subliminal message this song is trying to send me.

On a completely different topic, I recently tried to update my Nook Color e-reader with the latest software version 1.4.2.  I was still on 1.3 and hadn't had any luck getting the update via the wireless so I decided to follow the instructions on the Barnes and Noble website and download the new update and manually install it.  This did NOT prove to be an easy task.

I tried twice and the Commander tried once and we just couldn't get it to install.  I decided to do a little online sleuthing to see if others were having the same problems.  Yup!  After reading a variety of suggestions, the common denominator seemed to be that you were more apt to have a successful experience if you downloaded the new update in Internet Explorer.  We had been trying it in Chrome.  However, even folks using Firefox were reporting lots of problems.

Armed with my new information, the Commander followed the exact same steps we had followed on our earlier attempts but this time using IE and voila!  The update installed with no problems.  It's times like this when I REALLY appreciate the simplicity of Apple's iTunes store and their approach to software updates with my iPhone and iPad.  'Nuff said.

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!