so what if she wouldn't eat Cheerios

I need to take back every bad thing I ever said about Winnie. If she were here right now, I would take her tiny paw in my hand, look into her little brown eyes, and ask for forgiveness. But alas, I can’t. And here’s why.

A few weeks ago, Wyatt was carrying around a chicken nugget. Since he is approximately two feet tall (he isn’t even on the charts for his height), that means that his greasy little chicken nugget was dangling right about at Winnie’s eye level. Wyatt offers to share just about everything he eats but his way of sharing is to hold it out to you, you pretend to eat some, and then he eats it for real. Only tell that plan to a hungry shih-tzu.

So Wyatt is walking around with his nugget and Winnie tries to take it from him. Wyatt let out his, “I’m being eaten by a grizzly bear!” scream and in the end, there was a little bruise on his finger. A dog-tooth-shaped bruise.

It made me worry a little for the first time. I know that if my kids get a nip from the dog, it is probably because of something they should not have been doing. Kind of like, don’t pull on the dog’s tail and the dog won’t growl at you. But it’s hard to get other parents to agree with that policy. And I don’t want to explain a dog-tooth-shaped bruise to anyone else’s mom.

I thought about what the possible solutions were and I knew that my dad was the best option. So I sent him an email and he said he would gladly take Winnie. We arranged to meet over the weekend in Albuquerque and make the transfer.

This is really a hard thing for me because Winnie is six years old. That means I got her when I was like, um, cough, cough twenty three. I’ve had her since she was a tiny puppy. We’ve been together through my first teaching job, marrying Bryan, having two kids, and I thought we would grow old together. Or at least that I would bury her in a box in my backyard someday. She’s my little bud.

So the first week without her was really hard for me. I looked for her every time I went to lay on the couch – she always wanted to lay on my feet. I saved her chicken when I made dinner before I remembered that she wasn’t there to eat it. And during the day, don’t even get me started – that dog was like a Hoover vacuum, picking up all the crumbs and pieces of food that fall to the floor. I really missed her at mealtime.

I called my dad and asked how she was doing. I was hoping he would say, “She mopes all the time and lays by the door.” And maybe that he keeps finding her spelling out “I miss my mommy” with her milkbones. But, no. Instead he tells me that she is wagging her tail all the time. They go for a walk three times a day, the neighbors all have treats ready for her when they go by in the morning, he took her for a haircut and she looks so nice…

I wanted to say, “Look, old man! I know your house is like Disneyland for dogs, and that you are retired so you have nothing else to do all day but rub her belly and shop online for little dog sweaters and take her for walks, but I NEED that dog back! She picks up my crumbs and keeps my feet warm!” But I didn’t say that. Because I know that Winnie is probably pretty happy being the queen of the castle, even if that castle does smell like Old Spice deodorant and Ensure milkshakes.

Winnie, I miss you!

my stint as a stage mom

About a week ago I was scanning the local newspaper for interesting upcoming events. Finding none, I settled for a mildly amusing upcoming event - a Halloween costume contest at a local store - a contest for dogs.

I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I've thought about dressing up my dog for Halloween before but I've never actually been motivated enough to do it. But that's because there have never been PRIZES involved - and the ad said, "Over $8,500 in prizes." Suddenly, it's worth my time.

I'm a competitive person - I immediately wanted to win. So I started thinking. I figured all the other dogs would be wearing store-bought costumes and the key to winning would be something unique and hand made. In the back of my mind, right next to my memories of eating the foam padding out of my childhood carseat, was the memory of a costume I saw on a dog in a magazine - a dog dressed as Spaghetti and Meatballs.

My mom, the boys, and I went shopping and gathered all the necessary materials. When we got home, I fired up the hot glue gun and got to work. I was pretty proud of the end product. So proud, in fact, that the next day at Bryan's grandma's house, I invited the whole family to come and watch Winnie kick some dog butt.

The contest was scheduled for naptime and it was outside but there was no way I was missing it - $8,500 in prizes were calling my name. So I dragged my sleepy boys in hurricane force winds to the contest. I put Winnie's costume on her and we checked out the competition. There were probably 40 other dogs there but not one of them had a hand made costume. There were several dogs dressed as bumblebees, a few witches, a couple of pumpkins, and some other miscellaneous un-original costumes - but there was only one Spaghetti and Meatballs. Oh yeah, we had this in the doggie bag.

All the dogs lined up and had to parade in front of the judges. I felt just like one of those moms that force their little girls to be in beauty pageants - I really wanted Winnie to win. I whispered some tips into her ear, "Remember to smile and make eye contact with the judges." I suddenly wished we had practiced this at home. And that I had put some lip gloss on Winnie - and perhaps a breath mint.

As Bryan's whole family looked on, they announced the semi-finalists - Winnie had made it! Then the semi-finalists were lined up again for the final judging. I was so nervous, and Winnie was, well, Winnie was probably wishing she had stayed home and that she didn't have a meatball strapped to her head.

And guess what? She didn't win. I'm not kidding. Some other dork dogs won first and second prize and third prize went to a rat dressed as a teddy bear. A RAT! Was that even allowed?!? I felt so ripped off. And the whole promise of $8,500 in prizes? That was apparently at all the stores combined because the prizes were pathetic - not that we got one. Bitter? No, not me.

Next year, I won't forget the lip gloss.