In Memoriam

Has Fiorella told you her plans to make a booklet out of all her blogs featuring Wendy Dog?  It's been a tedious process, first running out all her posts and putting them in binders by year, then looking through each year's bounty to find the ones pertaining to Wendy, then taking the binders to Kinko's to photocopy the appropriate pages.  She has just one more year to go.

Her next step will be to put the pages in the right order, decide with photo(s) of our darling to use, then assemble everything and take it off somewhere to get printed, probably Kinko's again.

Let me know if you want one.

Wendy Rides Again

Hey, hey!  As of today, Fio has 1502 blogs!  What to do with them now?  Well, obviously, she'll run the pages out, sort them into topics, then publish.  First out of the gate will be our beloved Wendy Dog.  Don't say you didn't see her coming.   

Sonya Grows Up and Up and Up

Fiorella is cleaning out her closet--or rather, Sonya's closet. In a fit of canine maternity, Fio bought five little outfits for Sonya over the past two months, in "medium," then "large." None of them fit now, of course, and it's almost summer anyway. If Sonya needs any winter clothes, Fio will probably have to rescue the sewing machine from the mess in the laundry room and get to work because from what she's seen, PetsMart doesn't carry XXLs.

Yes, our Sonya is growing up, but she hasn't gained the weight we expected her to. No small wonder because she's very picky about her food. Fio and Husband have yet to find a brand that Sonya really likes so they resort to lacing her kibble with treat. It's weird having a dog who doesn't gobble up her breakfast like she's never been fed before. Wendy Dog always had half the bowl eaten before Fiorella could finish filling it, but Sonya just stands back and looks at Fio inquiringly, like "What am I supposed to do with this?"

But then, Sonya is a more laid-back dog than Wendy was. It's in the breed. Remember. Fio and Husband deliberately sought a dog that would be different.

But just as sweet, loving, and lovable.

Mourning Snippets

Husband waited till Fiorella was asleep to remove Wendy's princess bed to the garage. She suspects he was as depressed as she was at the sight of the empty pillow on legs.
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We're all pressing Bosco into service as a support dog. Son, knowing the comfort his little black inkspot gives us, left his pug with Husband and Fio when he went out for the day; Husband encouraged Bosco to snuggle next to Fio when she was having another one of her crying jags; and Fio suggested to Husband that he take Bosco for a walk when the sunshine came out.
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Fio has also been comforted by a heavy dose of Big Bang Theory--as many as six episodes a day. But today she's laying off. Too much of a good thing.
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Fio cried so much she probably dehydrated herself. Wendy was an integral part of her life for ten years, and she misses her baby dog terribly.

Our Loss

Wendy Dog went in for emergency surgery about 2:30 this morning, but this time there was no miracle.

Lady Gwendolyn Gloriana, born July 21, 2001, died December 28, 2011. May her loving heart and joyous spirit forever roam the hills of heaven.

Canine Messages

Fiorella was touched when the dogs rushed into the bedroom this morning to inquire after her health. As she lay in bed with a hot water bottle clutched to her degenerate hip, sweet, faithful Wendy stood beside the bed and licked her hand, while bouncy Bosco, Younger Son's little black bowling ball of a Pug, was so desperate to greet Fio that he backed up a couple of yards, gained speed, and made a flying leap up onto the bed.

How sweet. Fiorella's grandpuppy loves her.

Half an hour later, when Fio got out of bed, she discovered he'd also left more personal remembrances--in the bathroom and utility room, and on the antique Persian carpet beside the bed.

Playtime

Wendy has finally learned how to play with another dog.

Younger Son brought his one-year-old pug, Bosco, with him when he moved back in. Having a second dog around all the time was a difficult adjustment for Wendy, who has always been an only child, especially since the little guy wanted our ten-year-old couch potato to be more active. It took a while, but yesterday Fiorella was thrilled to see the two of them grab hold of a rope from opposite ends and tug on it back and forth.

Today they're barking like crazy and racing around the room playing tag.

Fiorella is less thrilled with this development.

Encouraging News

Thank you to everyone who expressed concern for Wendy Dog. The vet removed her SIXTEEN-pound spleen and said there was no metastasis that he could see. Fio and Husband will be able to bring their empty nest baby home today for recovery.

Along the same line, the geranium stubs, which Fio stuck back in the soil after the deer pulled them out of their pots and left them on the driveway, are sprouting little leaves again, for the second time around. Never say die.

Maybe there's hope for us all.

Wendy Dog in Crisis

Wendy Dog is going in for surgery today. She has a large mass in or near her spleen, but the vet can't tell for sure what it's connected to or if it's metastasized. Please think good thoughts in our direction this morning.

The only upside is that Fio and Husband have been getting a lot done around the house since Wendy's diagnosis. There's nothing like a crisis to stir up adrenaline.

The Shorter, the Better

Wendy Dog's ideal relationship with squirrels can be expressed in three simple words:

Meet
Greet
Eat

High-class Tastes

One has to wonder about the past lives of dogs.

Wendy Dog has certain preferences which do not seem canine in origin. For instance, she will not drink tap water unless Husband tricks her into it by dumping her kibble in her water bowl. No, Wendy Dog wants bottled water.

Husband has been humoring her by buying the supermarket-brand, but Fiorella is sure Wendy will soon tumble to what's going on and demand Ozarka--or maybe Perrier.

She's a high-class socialite reincarnated.

Surgeon at Work

Shh! Don't break Fio's concentration. Inspired by the much-publicized prosthesis for Midnight, a miniature horse, she's working on a prosthesis for an even smaller animal--an elephant.

Fio's elephant is three inches tall and carved from a very hard wood. Wendy Dog knocked it off the window sill a couple of days ago, and its passenger-side back leg hasn't been seen since. (Wendy probably ate it.)

Fio considered paper mache or pine for the repair job, but finally settled on art clay. It will shape to the wood, adhere, and harden, but can be chipped away if the missing limb is ever recovered.

Ah, these advances in medical science. Fio is only too happy to contribute her minuscule share.

Stealth Raid

Muffins, popcorn, and bread--
Wendy has been fed.
In fact, she fed herself
From the pantry shelf
While Fio was abed.
Fie, Wendy! Siggu! Shame!
Fio's mad, and you're to blame.

Daddy's Chair

Hooray for Weimer Wendy,
Who's comfy in THE chair,
But only if the Snuggie
Is situated there
In the sloping lounger,
Stuffing up the crack
Between the shallow seat
And the reclining back,
Extending thus the space
Just long enough for her
So she can find some comfort,
Our dainty slumberer.

Lost Cause

Wendy Dog has had a tough time of it ever since Husband's old, plushy recliner was replaced by a sleek, low-lying Le Corbusier lounger. The newbie was just right for Husband's back, but completely wrong for a dog who loved to leap up into a warm, comfy chair right after her beloved daddy had vacated it.

Not that she hasn't tried. Fio watched in awe yesterday as Wendy finally got herself up into the lounger. For a minute or two, she sat with her legs cramped together and her nose almost touching the back of the chair, one of the stupidest poses she's ever gotten herself into. Then she delicately maneuvered around so she faced forward, which made her tail end sink down and her balance precarious. Finally she leapt off, looked at the chair, leapt on again, and immediately leapt off again. After a couple of sad final glances at the chair, she walked over to her own raised bed, lay down, and resigned herself to being just a dog.

Sigh.

Nutcracker

The Nutcracker Doll may still be broken, as was the refrain in the recording of Tschaikowsky's ballet that Fiorella heard as a child, but Wendy Dog is in top-notch form. After Husband left for work yesterday morning and before Fio got up, Wendy invaded the pantry, pulled down a bag of walnuts, cracked them open with her mighty Weimaraner teeth, and left a trail of shells throughout the house.

Fio learned what had happened when she walked downstairs and her foot crunched on one of said shells, then another. Even after a thorough brooming, she's still discovering hidden caches.

Fio would punish Wendy with a lump of coal for Christmas, but she'd probably eat that too.

Collision Course

Husband, something of a clothes horse, dressed stylishly for his presentation last Thursday--black jacket of Italian wool, monogrammed Land's End button-down, coordinating slacks. In fact, he looked so good that Wendy the Weimaraner decided to kiss him good-bye. Her paws hit his shoulder and her snout hit his lips. The kiss rapidly turned into a dance, then a stumble. As Wendy did a full body hug, Husband stepped into her water bowl.

Husband put Wendy outside and went upstairs to change. Black wool, water, and silvery Weimaraner hair are not a good mix.

Newly outfitted, he slid into the driver's seat of his Mercedes and backed out of the garage, totally unaware that it was raining and his sun roof was still open.

Weimers Rule!

Our Wendy is a sweetie dog
Who understands her place--
On pillow soft, on couch or bed,
Being patted on the head,
Lazing on the bathroom rug
Or licking at my face.

Pearls

Exulting in morning
And full of sass,
She runs outside,
Our canine lass,
And licks the dew
From the fresh-cropped grass.

Daddy's Got a New Chair

Wendy dog is full of woe
Where, oh where, did her chair go?
The one she slept in every night
The second Daddy was out of sight,
The one she lay in every day
Whenever Daddy was away?
And what is this thing in its space?
Daddy should know you can't replace
A soft and comfy reclining chair
With a lounger Corbousier.*



*In English, it rhymes.