Poor Mabel.

I thought taking the children to my doctor's appointments was the most dreadful task imaginable.

I was mistaken.

Try taking 4 children and a sick, large canine to a veterinary office when you have no appointment and must wait for them to work you in.

Good times.

Good times with kids.

Good times with kids and dogs.

Good times with kids and dogs and a husband who is worried about how expensive this is all going to be.

Allow me to explain, dear readers.

As I mentioned on my Tragical Thursday, Mabel, our beloved dog of nearly 10 years, threw up.

This is not a rarity.

She throws up on occasion.

But on Thursday, it just kept coming.

Then I noticed she was acting funny.  She wouldn't come when called.  Her eyes were droopy and sad.  She was shaking.  She would not eat.  She would not drink.

She would only sleep and throw up.

By Friday afternoon, she was seeming slightly more perky, but still throwing up.  So, I called The Lumberjack, who was working, and he said he could meet me at the vet.

And then the waiting began.

It was actually quite entertaining, watching all the pet owners coming in with their dogs and cats.

It is super true that people kind of look like their pets.

What do you think . . .

Mabel

Me.

Thoughts?

I don't see it.

She is much better looking.  And has better camping hair.

Any-whooooo . . .

Some people are really wacky with their pets, treating them like their children and such.

I never treated my dogs like they were my children.

(Yes, we used to have two dogs.  To hear all about that nonsense click here, here, and here.  In that order.  That is important.  The whole universe will collapse if you click out-of-order.  Thank you)

So, we waited and waited.

And we saw the largest dog known to man, a Great Dane, come in with NINE puppies!

Ouch.

We finally got called back to the tinier exam room.  And the super nice escort lady brought each of my children their very own balloon.

Yes.

All six of us were crammed into this tiny exam room, that was the size of a fairly roomy bathroom, the kids are competing in Balloon Wars 2010, and Mabel is hovering with fear in the corner.

It was a treat.

The doctor came in and long story short, we spent a sizeable amount of money and we don't know what is wrong with her.

We are supposed to try to get her to take some medicine to help with the vomiting.

But she will not eat it.

We have tried several times.

The Lumberjack hid the pills in some food.

Nope.

The Lumberjack actually put the food/pills in her mouth and tried to help her chew them and swallow them.

Nope.

So we have to keep trying to fish out the pills for later use, seeing as how each pill costs like $6, and she needs to eat them all.

I guess.

I don't know.

Also, the doctor wants her to drink Pedialyte.

Nope.

She won't even smell it.

I did, however, in all my awesomeness, get her to drink about 1/4c of water.

Holla, Taylor!

Holla.

Lest you are confused, Taylor is the person who is sitting here typing out all of this rubbish.

So, last night we went to bed.

I could not sleep.  I am worried she is dying.  And I don't know how to help her.

I really don't want her to die.

She was our baby when we were first married.

She has always been around.

She is our dog.

We all love her and she is a part of the family now.

Besides, we are most likely moving to Ruralville with 20 acres for her to run around and get to be real dog at.

So, hopefully, we will be able to get her to take some pills today.

And maybe even drink some Pedialite. 

Because everyone knows, sick dogs crave grape-flavored electrolyte-filled beverages.

Pedialyte.

For a dog.

Honestly.

Poor Mabel.

Please get well, old dog.

 

Jack and Mabel, part Three

This is the last of a thrilling three part series all on my first two dogs.

Feel free to leave now.

If you are still here, and you have no idea what is going you can:

1)  Click here to read Jack and Mabel part one

2)  Click here to read Jack and Mabel part two

3)  Don't click on anything and just try to figure out what I am talking about on your own.

I am cool with any of the above options.

But I will offer a quick refresher, because I love you all so much.

And the last thing I want is for you to be confused.

Quick Recap:

1)  We got Jack and Mabel, two golden retrievers, right after we were married.

2)  They were terrible creatures who destroyed everything.

3)  I loved them more than the sweet, refreshing air I would breathe.

4)  They were stupid.  They jumped out of moving vehicles and ran onto the freeway.

5)  I had kids.  The kids became more important than the dogs.

6)  They ate the remains of my parent's dead dog.  Then they got sick.  Then they were banned from my parent's house forever.

7)  They were still terrors.

8)  We gave Jack away to a family friend.

9)  About 2 years later, I was devastated that I made this choice.

10)  The Lumberjack fibbed to me and told me Jack was dead.

He was not dead.

I still don't understand why he fibbed.

I also don't understand why he adorns himself in camouflage and makes elk mating calls.

He is a complex creature.

11)  About 2 years after that, Jack was returned to us.

And that is where this story begins . . .

We got Jack back in August of 2008.

So now, we have a 5 year old, 4 year old, 1 year old, and a 2 month old.

And we have a 75 pound dog named Mabel.

And we have a 90 pound dog named Jack.

And we live in a house that is 1370 square feet.

Please take all of those factors into consideration and don't judge me when I say that I was a cranky gal.

We got Jack back when we were trying to get ready to go out-of-town to go camping.

I was cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

I went to take a pot from the stove to the kitchen sink and tripped over that dumb dog.

Fell right on my face.

Strike one, Jack.

Strike one.

So then, we go camping.

We stopped at the pet store and bought a $15 heavy-duty leash for Jack, so we could tie him up at the campsite.

Why heavy-duty?

I'm glad you asked.

Jack chewed through every leash we ever bought him.

Once, he chewed through his leash, ran down a dock, and almost knocked an infant seat off of the dock.

Yes.

The infant seat contained the infant.

So, we bought a heavy-duty leash.

We get to the campsite.

We tie Jack up.

2 minutes later, he has chewed through his leash and he is running through the campground, terrorizing the fellow campers.

Strike two, Jack.

Strike two.

Over the next two months, he just never settles in.

He knocks children down.

He escapes from our yard.

He eats all the dog food and won't let Mabel eat it.

And he generally smells bad.

Strike three, Jack.

Strike three.

Now, please understand that all of this truly was hard for me.

You see, I really loved these dogs with all of my heart.

But then I had kids.

And life got busy.

And I just don't have time to chase dogs down.

I don't have time to worry about them escaping from our yard.

And I most certainly don't enjoy falling flat on my face when I am trying to prepare my family an exquisite meal.

In all honesty, Jack needs a huge place where he can run and be free.

We were not good for him anymore.

So, a wonderful lady  named Carol came into my life.

She ran a golden retriever ranch.

She would either adopt him out to a good home.

Or, he would just live in happiness on her ranch for the rest of his life.

So, Jack went to live with Carol in October of 2008.

I am sure he is having a grand time running rampant, digging up strange carcasses to eat, and getting lots of well-deserved attention from Carol.

But he will always have a special place in my heart . . .

Jack and Mabel, part two

*For more on Jack and Mabel, click here*

Jack and Mabel were the two golden retrievers that the Lumberjack and I brought home during our first 3 months of marriage.

Let's review what we have already discussed about them:

1)  We bought them with the intent to breed, but that was a no-go, due to Mabel's sealed womb.

2)  They were terrors:

Fact:  They ate our floor

Fact:  They ate my old hairnets

Fact:  They jumped out of moving vehicles.

Fact:  They dug up the remains of my childhood dog, Joey, snacked on said remains,  and then got sick and threw up all over my parent's carpet.

So, at this point in our story, it is the year 2005.

The Lumberjack and I have been married for 5 years.

Sweet pea is 18 months old and Daisy Mae is 3 months old.

I was still in my "I think babies are challenging but I have no idea what I am talking about because I have yet to have a boy" phase.

Raise your hand if you just have girls.

Allow me to let you in on a little secret:

BOYS ARE WAY HARDER.

But I digress . . .

So, there I was:  A stay-at-home mom of two little girls and I was also trying to keep track of tweedle dee and tweedle dum:

I had no control over these dogs.

They would escape all the time, for hours on end, and I had no idea where they went.

One time, they were picked up on the FREEWAY.

Yes.

Safe, I know.

When they would return from their secret rendezvous, they would bring home other people's dog's toys, baseballs, shoes, and a whole assortment of odds and ends.

Half the time they would come home soaking wet, which led me to believe that they:

A) Took a jog down to the lake

B)  Were crashing backyard neighborhood pool parties.

One day, the Lumberjack came home and I was at my wit's end.

4 million points to anyone who can tell me what a wits' end is.

I could not keep track of these dogs.

So, we found a home for Jack.

I felt really guilty about this.

But it had to be done.

We gave Jack to a family friend and we told this friend that if he ever changed his mind, we wanted him back.

The first few days were pretty rough for me and Mabel, but ,eventually, we got used to life with one dog.

And since we kind of knew the guy who took Jack, we would occasionally hear updates.

*****Fast Forward 2 years********

The Lumberjack and I are in bed.

He is asleep.

I am doing my usual routine: think and worry about anything and everything I can.

Out of nowhere, my thoughts focus on Jack.

What have I done?!

He was my first baby?!

I used to love him so much . . . how could I give him away?

Me:  "Wake up!  Wake up!"

The Lumberjack: "Huh?"

Me:  "I miss Jack!"

*sob*wail*sob*

Now, we also have a brother-in-law named Jack.

This has my poor husband feeling slightly confused.

Him:  "Why do you miss Jack?"

Me:  "I can't believe I gave Jack away!"

Him:  "The dog?"

Me:  "I loved him!"

Him: "Jack was stupid.  Go to sleep."

Me:  "Have you heard any news on him?  Is he doing okay?"

Him:  "He is fine.  Go to sleep."

Me:  "Let's see if we can get him back."

Him:  "No."

Me:  "Please!  Life is easier now . . .the girls are older.  We could handle it now!"

Yes.

I thought life was easy.

God still hasn't blessed me with this dude yet:

Now, the Lumberjack hates chatting with me.

And he especially hates chatting with me when he is half-asleep.

Him:  "Go to sleep.  Jack is dead."

Me:  "What!  How do you know?"

Him:  "My parents told me.  He got hit by a car a few months ago.  Goodnight."

I am now sitting straight up in bed and I turn the light on.

Also, I am wailing.

Not just crying.

No.

I've got snot everywhere, I'm hyperventilating . . . it's not pretty.

Me:  "Why didn't you tell me?"

Him:  "Because you would act like this."

Me:  "Why did I give him away?"

So, I continue to wail for good 10-15 minutes.

My poor Lumberjack just really wants sleep.

Finally, he sits up.

"Ok.  He is not dead.  I haven't heard anything about him for awhile.  I am sure he is fine.  Can we go to sleep now?"

Me:  "What?  Why did you say he was dead?"

Him:  "I thought it would make you go to sleep quicker."

Clearly, my Lumberjack has a lot to learn about the inner workings of the female mind.

Now, I am not only upset about not having my dog, but I also am recovering from the fact that I thought he had been hit by a car.

And, to make things even more interesting, now I have to worry about the future of my marriage.

I really should never try to communicate with this man after 9 pm.

It truly does me no favors.

Mr. Postman

Has anyone ever gotten in trouble from their letter carrier?
We have.
We are on our last warning.
Guess who freaks the letter carriers out:

Mabel has become quite cantankerous in her old age.

Oh, she is a naughty thing.

She figures out every way possible to get out of our backyard.

I reckon it is on account of our complete and utter disregard for her existence since we had the children.

Poor dog.

Mabel dislikes the letter carrier.

We do not know why.

She does not seem too picky.

The kids put clothes on her, ride her, pinch her, step on her, and poke her eyeballs.

And she just takes it.

But show her a stranger holding a stack of white envelopes, and she goes nuts.

Seriously.

She chases them down and barks at them.

If the letter carrier sees her out one more time, we will no longer get mail.

Ever.

Is that legal?

Don't we have rights?

Well, I am trying my hardest to keep tabs on the dog.

But, my main focus is keeping handsome dude . . .

alive.

So, there are times when Mabel is not my top focus.

But I really hope we can continue to get mail . . . otherwise fun moments like this would not happen:

In this current age of technology, the handwritten letter is rare.

But my girls have a Great Aunt Dana.

And Great Aunt Dana spoils them from time to time with packages in the mail.

She even throws in a few coloring pages and just little random bits and pieces of fun things she has collected for them.

And they love it . . . they really, really love it.

Sweet Pea sat down amidst all of her postal loot and teared up.

"I just really miss Aunt Dana.  I don't think I have seen her for like, 10 years."

Sweet Pea has a tendancy to exaggerate.

"Dear Dana, I mish you . . . "

*tear* sob* tear*sob*

Sweet Pea also tends to get emotional.

And I tend to get emotional when I think of how big my Sweet Pea is getting.

I mean, she can do so many things now:

*read

*count to 121

*fold laundry

*ride a bike

*write words . . . like mish

Ahhhh . . . my baby . . . .

She is also a stubborn little thing.

I had 4.2 million things to do because my friend Bimlissa was coming over.

And I had to hurry and try and meticulously clean my house, so as to appear that no children, husbands, or dogs lived there.

Cause Bimlissa would not be my friend if my house was not tidy.

She's snooty like that.

But Sweet Pea insisted that I address her package to Aunt Dana and put it into the mail immediately.

Yes.

I am sure my letter carrier would greatly appreciate this package stuffed in the mailbox.

Jack and Mabel: Part One

When the Lumberjack and I were first married, we got our dog, Jack.

Jack was one weird dog.

Facts:

* He used to eat my old, used hairnets.

*He ate our laundry room floor

* He would get scared and pee all over himself.

The lumberjack used to be extremely frugal.

Annoyingly frugal.

So, once the Lumberjack added up how much this dog was costing us (i.e. new flooring, 50lb bags of dog food, etc), he hatched up a plan.

The plan was to buy a female golden retriever so we could breed them and sell the puppies.

Because according to the Lumberjack, Jack needed to start earning his keep.

So, we brought home our little furball, Mabel.

But, alas.

The Lumberjack's plan was thwarted.

Mabel's womb was sealed and she would never become pregnant.

So, there we were.

Two dogs.

Twice the dog food.

Twice the dog poo.

Twice the home repairs.

We had many adventures with these dogs in our early years of marriage.

They were our babies.

I loved them with all of my heart.

The Lumberjack liked Mabel.

The Lumberjack did NOT like Jack.

Jack was dumb.

One fall afternoon, the Lumberjack and I decided to take the dogs on a drive up into the mountains.

Why?

Because we did not yet have 4 kids.

 And we were bored.

And we could not afford cable.

Well, we probably could.

But, by golly, that Mr. Lumberjack was FRUGAL back then.

We put the dogs in the back of the Lumberjack's Ford F250 truck.

This is the same truck that I drove 5.3 miles in with the emergency brake on.

The Lumberjack was not pleased with me that day.

But, I digress.

We were all ready for our fun day of mountain driving with our two dogs.

As we were driving down the road, I looked out the side mirror and saw Jack jump out of the back of the pickup.

While we were driving.

Then Mabel jumped out.

"Stop!" I shrieked. "My babies!"

The lumberjack pulled over.

He yelled at the dogs.

Then got them back into the truck.

Off we went.

And, wouldn't you know it, they did it again!

Dumb dogs.

So we put them back.

And guess what.

They did it again!

The Lumberjack was angry.

He sped up to make them run harder.

Then we pulled over and retrieved our Golden Retrievers.

We had one leash.

Cause we are smart like that.

So we tied Jack down to the back of the truck.

Ha!

Take that, Jack!

And off we went again.

Now, this dog was dumb.

I mean really, really dumb.

He seriously used to eat my hairnets.

He would run around the house with them stuck in between his teeth and we would have to pry them out.

Oh, I am sorry!

Did you not know that I used to wear hairnets?

Interesting.

Anywho . . .

This dog was dumb.

So, guess what that dumb dog did . . .

Jumped out of the truck.

Whilst still attached to the truck.

Dumb dog.

He is hanging by his collar off the side of the truck, getting swung all around.

Dumb dog.

"Stop!  Stop!  He's hanging himself!"

The Lumberjack was beyond annoyed at this point.

"Good."  He said.

*Gasp!*

At that moment, my whole world came to a hault.

Could it be true that my husband did not share in my deep and never-ending love for these two dumb, yet beautiful creatures that God had given us?

Goodness.

This news is truly tragic.

Where was I?

So, Mabel is sitting pretty like a good girl.

Jack is dying.

I am sobbing.

And the Lumberjack is speeding.

Finally, my husband has mercy upon this dumb dog and pulls over.

We are at this point 30 miles from our home.

Clearly, we cannot leave this dumb dog in the back of the truck for 30 miles.

For if we do, one of the following situations will occur:

1)  The dogs will jump out, we will not notice, and they will be lost forever.

2)  The dogs will jump out and get hurt.  Then when we receive the medical bills, the frugal lumberjack will be so angry that he had to pay them that he would take the dogs back into the mountains to shoot them.  Then I will cry and wail and we would continue living out our lives in a cold and loveless marriage.

3)  The dogs will jump out on a busy road and cause a minor collision.

4)  The dogs will jump out on a busy road and cause a major collision.

Trust me.

None of these options are good.

So, one of us has to sit in the back of the truck and hold the dogs down by their collars.

For 30 miles.

Because I had previously driven this truck for 5.3 miles with the emergency brake on, I was not allowed to drive the truck any longer.

So, I was the one destined to ride in the back of the truck and prevent disaster from happening.

But, I deemed this situation unsafe.

Where was my seatbelt?

Where was my seat?

Where was my heater?

So, I made the Lumberjack take all the back country roads back to our home.

And I would rap on the back window if his driving became reckless or his speed exceeded 18 mph.

I am happy to report that no dogs died that day.

And my marriage did not end that day.

Did you like that story?

Cause I got plenty more where that came from.

Dumb dogs.

So  . . . .

Am I the only one who has had to wear a hairnet on a daily basis?

Why the Dogs Look Scared:

Check out this picture from the spring of 2003:

A few observations about this photo:
* A long, long time ago, we had two dogs:  Jack and Mabel.  Now we just have Mabel.  Jack is healthy and alive somewhere, he is just not healthy and alive with us.  Mabel is the wet, dirty dog in the tub.  Jack is on the floor.

* That old house of ours had a window in the shower.  Not a privacy glass window, but a regular window.  With a white curtain.  That white curtain got soaked and I am sure became see-through at times.  Looking back, we might have been known as "the inappropriate neighbors."  Money was tight, so we did nothing to change it.

*  Check out the toilet lid.  The orignal toilet lid the house came with broke and the Lumberjack and I went to pick out a new one.  We spent an extra $10 or so to upgrade to this fancy wood stained toilet lid.  We thought we were high class.  I still don't know what we were thinking.  This is what happens when 19 year olds with no money get married.

*  Check out the shower curtain.  I LOVED it more than anything.  I spent an unheard of amount on it (like $30-the Lumberjack was horrified).  In fairness, I used a giftcard someone gave us for our wedding.

*  The floor and shower walls were tiled by the Lumberjack.  Why we were able to retile the bathroom but not do anything about the inappropriate shower curtain is beyond me.

And now the story behind the photo:

We don't regularly bathe our dogs.

It is just such a bore.

But every now and then, it occurs to me just how disgusting this is and I inform the Lumberjack that we will be giving the dogs a bath.

He hates when I make these proclamations.

So, we got Mabel in the bath and got her all wet, so that she became a mudball.

When you don't bathe your dogs *ever* they tend to accumulate dirt.

And darn our luck, the bathtub broke.

I don't remember what was wrong, but it was bad enough that the Lumberjack had to abandon us and head to Lowe's.

Why do the dogs look so scared?

That is where I come in.

Sweet Pea was about 3 months old and I was *gulp* nursing.

Have I mentioned before that I HATE nursing?

Well, as luck would have it, Sweet Pea needed to be fed while the Lumberjack was gone. 

So, I pulled up a chair and stared right at the dogs while I fed her.

And I would just yell at them if they tried to move.

Not a nice yell.

But a yell delivered by a new, stressed out, nursing mother (who HATES nursing), and is very worried that these gross, muddy dogs will run through the house and get big muddy footprints everywhere.

And could wet dogs smell any worse?

You can see Jack's paws are muddy.

This is because he already tried to join his friend in the tub.

But I quickly informed him that he needed to:

"STAY!"

And that is why the dogs looked scared.

I apologize to all you dog lovers out there.

I, too, used to be a dog lover.

But I have 4 kids now and life goes on.