He Has Pet Plans

"What did you think of Jack's puppy party, Bob?"

"It was cool."

"Did it make you want a puppy?'

"No, but it made me think about when I grow up and I'm going to have an anaconda and two dogs and maybe a rat."

* * *

Remembering our fallen soldiers this Memorial Day.

Sweet Creatures

When I was in elementary school, our family had a small statue of St. Francis placed on the fence in our backyard. Saint Francis was the patron saint of animals and ecology so I suppose a suburban backyard is as fitting a tribute location as any. The shrine by the flower beds of ivy was my introduction to Saint Francis and by all accounts he seems to have been a cool guy who loved animals and nature. Were he alive today, I'm betting he would be a vegan, listening to reggae in his yurt.

In honor of The Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi, today our church celebrated The Blessing of the Animals. This is a semi-organized chaos wherein those brave enough to bring their pets, sit outside and watch the service on monitors while trying to keep their beasts of the field from humping random legs.

We brought Daisy with us to represent the Rosenberg herd. We met golden retrievers, chihuahuas, brindle-y mongrels and a 160 pound Great Dane named Lottie. There were cats in carriers and one in a cat stroller. There was a hamster and a turtle and a bear of the Teddy variety. Many creatures were loud and every one of them was blessed and we are blessed to know them.

Daisy found numerous butts to sniff and got a peanut butter sandwich out of the deal so she wasn't complaining either.

High five, Saint Francis.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: How's It Going With Violet?

It's going like this.

Violet, Less Blue

She was very thin when she got here and it wasn't because of a lack of available food. She was sad and had been living alone in the old green craftsman for four months. She had company a few times a day but it was no substitute for her lady. She missed her lady.

She's been with us for 10 days now. She has stopped hiding behind the washing machine. She lets us pick her up and hold her. She follows Bob around the kitchen. She will touch noses with Daisy the dog and has patience with our crabby, black cat, Pearl. She eats four times a day and she's gaining weight. She likes to talk and she likes to listen and she likes to hear her name. Violet, VeeVee, Violetta, Vi: she answers to all of them.

Jeff used to be allergic to cats.
I used to think I was a dog person. (Don't tell Pearl.)
And now?
Violet is ours and we are hers.

Now We Are Six

Dear Violet,
I am writing to you because you are behind the clothes washing machine and can not hear me very well because Mom told me that I need to use my quiet voice that I use for kitties and babies because you are scared a little bit. Hi Violet. My name is Robert Edward Rosenberg and I am also Bob. I am in your new family and this is your new house where you live. I think you are nice. Do you like Star Wars? I like Star Wars. We are from earth, you and me too.

You are living in our house because Miss Diana from three houses down in the green house, died because she was very sick and she had five kitties and we picked you and we love you because we heard you were the loneliest kitty and everything. Miss Diana got to move to heaven so you got to move to here. I like you. Pearl is always in my closet in the daytime because she is nocturnal and she is crabby but she will like you because she is also a cat like you are. Daisy is a dog and is always excited and she will like you because Daisy likes everyone.

You can stay behind the clothes washing machine for as long as you want and we will bring you snacks there. I will sit next to the clothes washing machine sometimes and say, "Hi Violet. I love you," to you and so if you hear that, it is me, Robert Edward Rosenberg. You will have to listen hard because I am using that tiny, tiny, tiny, kitty voice.

I love you Violet. The end.
Your pal,
Bob Rosenberg

The Backseat

It was 101° on the cooler, Hollywood side of the hill. I was headed deep into the always 10° warmer San Fernando Valley for an attempt to interview The Rock Star Legend who had canceled on me three times already that week. The Rock Legend’s people were in the habit of waiting until a few hours after I had been sitting around with a camera crew before they would cancel.

I was driving my old Volvo sedan. The air conditioning in the car hadn’t worked in years. I drove with the windows open, hoping the white hot breeze would dry out my sweat-damp business casual get up.

My first stop in the big valley was at the veterinarian. My elderly dog Stella had been at the vet getting a tune up and was being released that afternoon. The way the scheduling worked out, if I wanted to have her back home for the evening, I would have to pick her up on the way to the interview and bring her with me to the recording studio. She was a big, friendly gal. I knew she'd be welcome.

With Stella planted in the backseat, we merged onto the 405 freeway. I immediately smelled something bad coming from behind me and chalked it up to canine farts and kept driving. Soon the sulfury-burning-hair-dead-stuff odor was overwhelming my little oven on wheels. I glanced into the backseat and saw that poor Stella had liquid-pooped up the back of the car. She then had apparently walked around in it and then sat down in it. I tried desperately to get off of the freeway but was trapped in my lane.

I could see her in the rear view mirror getting hit with another round of poops and rolling around the seat in her attempt to clean herself off. Stella panted up at me with her dog smile. My backseat and its passenger were now blanketed in excrement. I was already running late to my meeting with The Rock Legend. Gagging and laughing uncontrollably (something I tend to do at inopportune moments), I called my dear friend Karen who lived close by. Through my gasps I explained the situation. She told me to meet her in her driveway.

I pulled up and Karen met us, armed with towels and a hose. She quickly opened the rear door, took Stella by the collar and lead her out. She wiped out the backseat as best she could. Then my poop pit-crew of one, closed the car door and with a knock on the trunk yelled for me to keep going. I raced to Sun Valley and made it to the studio only a few minutes behind schedule. I sat with the camera and sound guys and waited for the interview as the crap baked into the interior of my car.

Forty minutes later the call came from The Rock Legend’s management. He would have to re-schedule. Again.

I released the crew and got directions to a nearby car wash. It was closing time but I managed to talk the guys into detailing my backseat by cleaning out my wallet and handing them the contents. I drove back to Karen’s where she met me in the driveway and presented my freshly washed dog.

This reaffirmed three things that I already knew: Karen is an amazing friend, my career in television was fun but not glamorous, and I loved that crazy dog with all my heart.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Bed Stealers

Technically, this is not their bed. They don't care about "technically."

Tikvah is Hebrew for Hope

Bob had a dream last night about our dear friend's dog. Tikvah was a gentle, old, German Shepard who passed away some months back. First thing when Bob woke up this morning he announced, "Tikvah died but heaven is all around her."

We are quite certain that he is right.

The Child Is Hers

Portrait of Daisy by Bob Rosenberg

Before Bob was born, we were given excellent advice about introducing our new baby to the other baby, our dog Daisy. We had heard stories of jealous pets, pets who act out, pets who start turf wars with infants. We were hoping to avoid this. Our dog is very gentle but it was impossible to know exactly what to expect.

As instructed, when we brought Bob home for the first time, we left him outside and Jeff and I went in and quickly said hello to the dog without the baby. (Relax, little Bob was inside our locked yard, grandma out of sight standing guard.) Then we opened the door and let Daisy into the yard to "discover" the baby and then waited for her to come back and "tell us" about him.

She discovered the baby, her baby. He has been her baby ever since. Bob himself describes their relationship this way, "When I feel happy, Daisy is happy. When I am sad, Daisy is worried." She is a sweet Mama. (He crawled into the crate himself. I swear.)

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Sweet Dreams

Daisy and friends.

Picture Day at the Hive

Jeff has a mild (he made me say “mild”) obsession with photos of pets wearing outfits. In 2005, he dressed our dog as a bee for Halloween. (Naturally, he then submitted a photo to one of his online haunts BeeDogs.com.) Jeff also loves photos of pets spooning. The best for him are, of course, photos of pets wearing outfits while spooning. When Bob decided that he wanted to be a bumble bee for Halloween this year so that he could have a costume "just like Daisy's," my husband was just a little (he made me say “a little”) excited.

Halloween provided us with a whole lot of holiday but the real goal from all of this costuming was The Double Bee Photo: One shining moment, frozen in time of our dog and our son wearing matching striped fur body suits and antennae, and possibly spooning. Jeff made little whimpering noises whenever he thought about it. It was to be a cuteness spectacular.

The big photo shoot went down like this:

Boy-Bee refuses to dismount tricycle. Dog-Bee experiences intermittent anxiety induced panting.

Dog-Bee in mild panic. Tries to remove antennae hood. In show of solidarity, Boy-Bee discards own antennae headband.

Dog-Bee retreats to cower under patio bench. Receives snacks for patience. Boy-Bee expresses his lack of desire to "go stand up by Daisy" or to "say cheese." Shows no remorse when told that this behavior is "making Daddy sad." Receives snacks as bribe.


Dog-Bee unwilling to come out from under bench, snacks be damned. Boy-Bee throws golf ball toy: pre-tantrum stance.


Boy-Bee antennae and golf ball toy are retrieved, yet meltdown ensues. There were a few tears. There was no spooning. (Undeterred, Jeff has been on eBay pricing a set of reindeer antlers for the dog and cat.)

They Are Watching You

On any given day, you can find deep within the closets, sofa cushions and laundry hampers of our home, stuffed animals hidden by our dog, Daisy. These critters, originally belonging to Bob, have been adopted by Daisy and now rest in various stages of “broken in.”

Stage 1: Licked until soggy, then sun and or mud dried until crunchy.

Stage 2: Pointy parts (noses, tails, feet) nibbled on down to the fabric.

Stage 3: Thin strands of stuffing delicately peeking through one tiny hole in the fur.

Stage 4: Eyes missing.

Stage 5: Full disembowelment and strewn stuffing carnage.

The final stage takes place in the backyard and although it is generally 6th in the order, in the manner of cause and effect it would be more appropriately labeled Stage 4-1/2.

Final Stage: The poos have eyes. You heard me.

Picture that image in your mind’s eye.

Because I love you, I will not provide a photo. You’re welcome.

Inherited

I was not really in the market for a cat. I think of myself as a dog person. In 1999, my sweet black lab Stella was 15 years old and she wasn’t getting around as well as she used to. I was working long hours and I wanted her to have some companionship when I wasn’t home. I know she was usually sleeping all day while I was gone but I couldn’t help thinking that keeping the TV turned on to the Food Network just wasn’t enough company for her. I decided she needed a friend.

My friend Jennifer and I went to adoption day at a local pet store. A rescue group brought in cats they got from the pound and fostered them until they could find them permanent homes. Not knowing how a grown cat would react to a 75 pound canine roommate, I decided that a kitten might go into the deal with less dog hating baggage. Enter, Pearl.

The rescue group had only one kitten there. She was an all black, feral little number. $40.00 and a car loan’s worth of paperwork later, she was in a cardboard carrier on the way home with me to meet her new best friend and start her new life.


Pearl and Stella became fast friends. They slept together on Stella’s pillow and Stella gave her big sloppy tongue baths. Pearl took a little longer to warm up to me. Now, 10 years later, she is still warming up to me. I get it. She’s a dog person.

When Stella died a year later, Pearl and I both woke up the next morning with our first patch of gray hairs. We were mourning our friend. Our friend had left me, the dog person, with her cat. I adore her cat.

All Happy, All the Time

25 Things About Daisy by Daisy Rosenberg

1. I like my snacks.
2. I like your snacks better.
3. I play piano in the middle of the night.
4. I enjoy the company of cats and count a number of them among my closest friends.
5. I think the Halti Harness™ is Satan's handiwork.
6. It's not me that's shedding, it's that tall guy.
7. I am SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU.
8. I believe digging is a highly underrated activity.
9. I am usually wondering if you have any snacks.
10. I love that kiddie pool way more than the kiddie does.
11. My enthusiasm is legendary.
12. I like Thai food.
13. It doesn't like me.
14. I once started a 12 puppy mutiny in obedience class.
15. I wait a minimum of two weeks before ripping the squeaker out of any chew toy. (Manners.)
16. I once ate an entire rotisserie chicken, (unsanctioned) including the bones, in under 30 seconds.
17. I don't get this, "Down!" thing that everyone keeps talking about.
18. I am really into all of your smells.
19. I am a morning person.
20. I am also an afternoon, evening, and middle-of-the-night type.
21. I have difficulty "dialing it down", or so I am told. Repeatedly.
22. I consider #21 an asset, not a liability.
23. I must bark at the mailman - I am traditional, like that.
24. I am delighted to be here.
25. You know how when I was a puppy? And I was abandoned? And you found me in the rain eating garbage in that parking lot on that first day we met? And you took me home? And you made me part of your family? I haven't forgotten that. And I won't.

You Capture is a weekly photo challenge at a mama blog I like:
I Should Be Folding Laundry
This week's challenge is: Emotion
In my photo above, Daisy shows off her emotion - Sweetest Happy.