7th April, 2019 Sunday
Sometime in the last two weeks, my dearest Goddess Roamer let me know a Dachshund I do love had had a litter and asked if I knew of anyone who might want. Ha!!! “OOOO don’t you know better than to tell me that!!!”, says I and proceeded to enter the obsess loop, should I or shouldn’t I?
Husband’s help was this. “So how many puppies are we getting?”
Word was this is a mighty special Duckles pile. They would ring well and make good Duckles in their lovely tummies when the time came.
Did I need another dog at this moment of my life? Don’t you know that is such an irrelevant question.
There are tiers on the scale of No dogs to Uber dogs. Zero dog people are aghast at my 6 with four of them so giant. The Duckles are a toleration at best. Next tier is dog lovers which include those who worship from afar but cannot house to those who have a dog who slots inside their human’s life as the “companion” and then to those who may have two or three who need to be walked or released to beach, field or dog parks for the run. These love their dogs but life has target somewhere else.
Then there is Uber Dogdom Tier. The one where people have understood that more is easier than one and that all that is required to have them happy in their dog brains’ need to romp and sniff and dig is a fence, a dog door and some ground that their people have released from uber cultivation expectation. This is the tier of people who sleep with all their babies, feed their dogs better than themselves, know all about the textures of poop ranging from worm infested to pristine, travel with their dogs hundreds if not thousands of miles for the arbitrary judgement of whether their beloved pup passes muster on that day for the prize of friggin ribbon and rarely money. This is the tier of spending the paycheck for said travels and/or for herculean Veterinarian treatment, owning property that is more than humans need but its for the dogs. People who own as much dog equipment as one owns for the rearing of a human baby. The Uber Tiered Living Room is furnished with leather upholstery not because its a social status display but because it withstands muddy paws, the occasional puppy accident and won’t rip if needle puppy teeth are experimenting. The basket in the corner of said living room is full of objects and inventory of which reveals cow hooves, sheep horns, skinneez, kongs, tennis balls, and plush animals better constructed than any human grade stuffed animal.
When a wolf packs litter is too young to hunt, they are left with a designated adult wolf pup sitter in an area known as a rendezvous site. A rendezvous site is characterised by its assortment of strewn bones and sticks and other objects which have obvious signs of being gnawed by some kind of teeth.
Thats what an Uber Tiered dog obsessor’s living room looks like.
I have a rendezvous site living room.
So anyway, Husband and I load Zoi and Wizard into our Sienna Dog Chariot on last Friday’s rainy misty morning to brave the Gorge’s torrential gauntlet on our path to see this Duckle puppy pile at Roamers’ Palace. About the trip to see, I had said to everyone in my path for the previous four days, “I am just going to look. I might not like them.” Ha. The previous three nights’ sleeps had been hounded with questions like how would all the others feel, the pack is whirling nicely now why add another unknown cog, its an 8week old who doesn’t have an eight hour tank at night and wakes with rompings at 6 am- there go my lovely 9am abed days…In other words, my Advocate’s Devil had had a Bedevilment Bash and the circles under eyes had darkened.
Well, she was it from the second she started waddling around the greened floor of Roamers’ lovely pen with Wizard and Lady Zoi next door. Little Justice marched right over to that chainlink wall and reached up and touched Lady Z’s eager nose.
I could not keep my eyes away from seeking out her little form. Her siblings fun displayed in their romping nipping pile was distinctly separate fromw waht she sought. She was always off a ways investigating something other. Like me, the focus of the pile was not hers.
So hugs around, papers signed, money handed, and we loaded Zoi and Wizard in the Chariot to road back home the Gorge,
She hugged me right away and did not peep. She slept dug deep in my arms. Halfway down the Gorge’s throat, her name arrives or part of.
I had chatted on the phone two days before with a shiny woman whose name I loved and had never come across before. Looking at this noble little face, that name came like a clarion call, “Justice”. It is a time for focused fair and mighty Justice.
Later the other name arrived carried by my Youngest. When hearing I had absconded with a wire hair dachshund pup, she recalled a word she had seen the day before which had made her remember my mother’s noble wire hair Duckle, Xanadu. The word which had fired that recall was “Xandra”. So Justice Xandra dubbed the tiny shoulders of this intrepid little soul.
She hesitated at Continent and Lady Dragon’s stalks surrounding the tiny piece of floor her low rider body claims. That lasted maybe half an hour, long enough for Giants to get over her arrival. Dinner, not so much, but peeing in the grass was great so I cheered her squats with laughing claps and her racing to my arms let me know she and I had bonded.
She slept nestled in my hair and brought a dream of Mama. Its them was my old nickname which Mama could never understand why I gave it up. Well Mama passed two year ago so when I dream her I know this is the realm of how to tell her what I knew would have been too much while she had breath. I told her in this dream how mad and hurt I was that as she aged and disagreed with what I chose as adult, she used that endearing nickname as a weapon to diminish me very pointedly. My mother did not play fair. Aggression Passive was her game all in the name of the decorous deferring female to whatever man had strings. In this dream space it was time for me to call her out on the mythology of nickname use as only totally benign. It wasn’t and she always knew, so I told her in the dream I knew her hidden truth. She slumped and faded off somewhere. My brother who had tended her while she breathed was tending her in dream. After she had disappeared, I asked him how she fared, He said something like, “Well what would you expect.” He knew I had done right by this and knew she would be gray about it. He did not disapprove.
So yesterday Zoi did discover how happy Justice makes her. Zoi has a lovely heart which will always find a way for fun and loving play. There is a great big Mama waiting in the girl. There is something reaffirming Hope in her play. In wake of Orange Idiot’s cling to fabricated Triumph, anywhere Hope messages, “I’m still here”, is a blessinged gift. Thank You, Lady Zoi.
My phone’s video button has been hit a lot.
But let me share a bit which Groucho and his Brother’s might have writ. Eldest and her Big Guy Husband went to Coast yesterday charging us with sheltering the Flock of Now Three and Guardian Geese who like to screw in their little plastic baby pool of an evening, I kid you not. Goose sex is something to behold.
At any rate, I was schooled about the gat to shut and bucket with the scoop and feed so as clock hit 7:30 pm I made my way to cruddy shoes and left the house for Flock Pen.
Well, its been raining quite a lot. So as I shuffled into pen, the Geese did usual alarming by honking waddle towards me as I stooped to peer inside the hen house. I saw all Three Lady Hens roosting as they should but as I turned to fend off the geese waving bag of lettuce my stance became precarious on the oh so slick mud slab my feet were scrambling to find purchase. Holy Shit, I am going down as my feet forward flung off the slick mud slab. The geese looked somewhat sated as my prostrate form might have messaged their success at taking intruder me right down. Well, after making sure I still had all my moving parts, I registered the mud stripe up my legs butt and back. Somehow I got up and found the edge of grass to make my way to solid ground and was escaping Flock Pen when i remembered, “Fuck, I need to scoop Goose feed.” So back I go and this time steeping only on the grass I stayed upright and fetched the scoop and shoveled out two. The Geese had quieted by then. I turned and made it out of pen, up to the house and stripped down naked in the laundry and marched up tow flights for dry attire and rejoined my husband and the pups in said Rendezvoused Living Room.
As I relayed this story to my loving Eldest, she said to me, “The Geese probably didn’t now what to make of you.” I responded what she’s always known as she is my child after all, “ I have that effect on most people and creatures.” I am truly odd.
Tea is Jasmine Green.
Ta.
Tea With Me 