Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret… I Mean Max

I’m betting every female of a certain age had an immediate flash back when they read the title of this blog.  Most of the Dude’s are mystified,  unless they have sisters or raised daughters and then they might have a semblance of where this post is going.  I could just let this play out with a devil may care type of attitude and let those unsuspecting Dudes find out the significance of my chosen title naturally, or I could insert a disclaimer to forewarn them. 

Hmmmm what to do???????

Disclaimer:  This post is about lady bits and associated functions.  You have been forewarned!  Read at your own will and peril. Aren’t you lucky the holiday spirit is still alive and well in me!  Non-holiday me would have been too tempted to pull you into the story to the point of no return and then would have dropped the bombshell, which would have left you regretting your choice read this post, but also wanting to know how it ended. 

Grade 5 was the year in which I and my peers officially learned about puberty.  All the girls were ushered into Ms. G’s classroom and the boys into Mr. F’s room and once settled we learned about the horrors/beauty that would soon await us.   Lucky us, hair would be growing, sweat glands would be maturing, boobs would start reaching for new peaks, dreams would start getting wetter and for the ladies menstruation would commence.  

It was a lot of material to cover in one afternoon and I am sure the School Board didn’t want to overwhelm our little brains, so we were only taught the specifics that applied to our gender.  This left room for a lot of speculation and theorizing, at recess, as to what the other group talked about and learned.

Our sponge like brains and avid curiosity hungered to find out the deats as to what the other group was told.  In typical fashion it wasn’t long before double dog dares were thrown down… “I double dog dare you to ask so and so (insert the working theory of moment).  We cobbled together the factoids we were told to get a better appreciation as to what the boys had in store.  

It was inevitable, our bodies as we knew them were going to change. There was nothing we could do about it.  Nature would be taking over and for those of us who did not like change, the worst part was, no one could answer when it would happen.  

Puberty felt like a ticking time bomb.  On one hand I didn’t want it to happen and actively willed it to be years away, but on the other, I also didn’t want to be the last one to go through it.

Time went on.  As curves arrived for the Ladies, voices dropped for the Dudes.  We all became familiar with essentials such as razors and deodorant… some faster than others.   

Playground banter changed from “You’re a poopy head!” “Nah uh… boys aren’t better than girls!!!”, to gems such as  “Are you related to Sasquatch?”, “Listen Pepe le Pew you need industrial strength deodorant!”  Of course the latter was said while nonchalantly trying to sniff your own pits to make sure the offending odour wasn’t emanating from you. 

It was around Grade 6/7 that one of the girls discovered Judy Blume and her original how guide on navigating the pitfalls and angst of puberty… “Are You There God?  It’s Me Margaret.”  That book became the sacred bible for the girls in my Grade. Reverently referenced and used to plot out the trajectory of and to usher in our womanhood.  Who could forget such classic lines such as “We must, we must, we must increase our bust!”. Seriously it is seared in my memory along with the hours spent doing the described exercise to increase said bust line.  

If the proof is in the pudding the size of my bust from junior high through to university would totally discredit that I spent hours doing this exercise, as it did absolutely nada to increase my bust line.  Maybe I wasn’t as dedicated as I thought I was or maybe the exercise was totally bollocks, regardless that book was a game changer!  

One by one we would hear through the grapevine that another classmate had her first visit from “Aunt Flo” and those of use who were still waiting, were on tenterhooks wondering if we would be next. Although I could no longer get away with wearing an undershirt and had graduated to full on bra, starting one’s period was the ultimate sign that you had entered the Ughville district of womanhood and would be stuck in this zone for an eternity.  I remember pondering if it was possible to skip straight to menopause, as that seemed like the best alternative given all the choices. 

Science class burst that bubble.  The inevitable was going to happen, so I doubled down with preparing myself.  I convinced my mother to allow me to practice inserting tampons, so that I would be prepared when “IT” finally happened.  She rolled her eyes while shaking her head, but agreed to a limit wastage of feminine hygiene, as she ultimately she is as much of a sucker for preparation as I am.

Armed with the paper “How To” instructions, I tried to figure out exactly what the diagram was trying to depict and where exactly it was supposed to be inserted.  For those who have never seen this guide, it showed the user inserting the tampon into a cross section of the female body.  Not very helpful for confirming and referencing body parts when what you see in the mirror is full on lady bits!  Oh yes, there were multiple mirrors involved in the learning process.  There were trips out of the washroom armed with the insert to question what exactly is this?  Where should I be looking for that?  My mother patiently answered my questions and went about what she was doing before I interrupted her.  

What my mother failed to tell me was how painful it would be to try and insert a tampon when you are not menstruating.  Well in fairness, she was probably never dumb enough to try it and might not have know. There is only so much discomfort one can endure in the name of progress and I eventually gave up and decided to put faith in my ability to naturally figure it out when my period finally arrived.  I did wonder if the pain was a sign Aunt Flo would be visiting me soon enough. It wasn’t.  I had another two years before I was finally ushered into Ughville… I mean the beauty of womanhood.

Now you might ask, why not start with pads?

No way, no thank-you.  

I had born witness to the atrocity of pads when my older sibling started menstruation.  At that time the only option for pads was to wear this elastic garter system which you had to insert the ends of the pad into.  It looked cumbersome, uncomfortable and just plain nasty.  I vowed that I would never, ever, ever be subjected to this horror show… NEVER EVER!

By the time Aunt Flo finally paid me my first visit, the “new and improved” peel and stick pads had arrived on the market.  Although the garter was gone… BONUS… nothing had been done to reduce the overall bulkiness of this odious product.  All I could imagine was how obvious it would be wearing one under my painted on jeans, and how it would negatively impact my ability to do what I wanted to do,  so pads remained a HARD pass. 

Bet you didn’t think you would get a history lesson on the evolution of modern day female hygiene products.  Well I never thought I would be providing one, but age has a funny way of removing the filters that prohibited discussing my period and the impact it had on my life. 

I will say the arrival of Auntie Flo was as crap a$$ as I thought it would be.  Something else that needed to be tracked and attended to.  Sigh… Growing up is a hard thing to do!

It did not help that I consistently had extreme cramping on Day 2/3 of my period and that I always seemed to have commitments on Day 2/3 of my period.  I swear to God my Dad had a spidey sense as to when I was entering the zone of maximum pain, as without fail, that was the time when he always decided that it was time to shovel grain.  Coincidentally it was also either the hottest or the coldest days of the year when grain shovelling happened.  Picture it, having to perform extreme physical labour, in hot and dusty conditions, while you feel like you have gnomes trying to pick-axe out of your innards.  Not fun in the least bit.  At least the grain acted as a “Magic Bag” that I could lay on and take the pain levels down a few notches, while Dad was delivering the grain to the elevator.

Probably the worst cramping I have ever had was when I was doing a  placement in Ponoka. I was in the middle of treating a client and I broke out into a cold sweat, the pain was so bad.  I couldn’t move without grimacing.  I felt like I was being cleaved in two, and there were a couple of moments when I almost passed out.  My supervisor, thought I was getting sick and made me take the rest of the afternoon off, even though I was game to solider on.  As intense as this monthly pain was, it was over as quick as it started and I had a 28 day reprieve to look forward to until it returned.  

Reflecting back on this, I just had a “Ah Ha” moment.  No wonder I have such a high threshold for pain.

• Shockwave set to the highest setting… merely annoying.
• Walking on a broken bone… uncomfortable but doable.  

Nothing has come close to period pain for me, and if I can live through that, I can live through any other type of pain. 

As the years progressed I continued to long for menopause even knowing all the wicked symptoms that were associated with it. Those prayers were finally answered at the start of Covid.  One day Aunt Flo decided to quit visiting and never came back. So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen!

I admit I have been feeling a little superior with how my body has been handling the dreaded menopause, as it has been very anti-climatic.  I didn’t have to suffer through “surprise” visits from Flo.  Leading up to menopause I had a few occasions where I felt a surge of power that made me feel like I could shoot fire out my finger tips, but no hot flashes.  Absolutely no anxiety, heart palpitations, sleep problems, brain fog, bloating, change in taste, burning tongue or night sweats.  The only thing that has occurred has been the dawning of my “beard years”, but hey a beard will keep my face warmer in the winter!  I couldn’t ask for an easier transition to this next phase of life and have pranced through these last few years doing a happy dance. 

Well that lofty attitude appears to be coming back to bite me in the butt.  This was the year of the bi-yearly physical, which means blood work, mammogram and the poo test.  I used my extended time off to get all my medical appointments completed, as work weeks tend to be too busy to fit in non-work related appointments.

First up… the mammogram.  This is my second round with the mammogram machine and let me tell you there has been a change in the elasticity of the patagajellies.  The first time round, my breasts were perkier and quickly sprang back to life after being squashed by the machine.  This time not so much.  It was very hard not to burst out laughing when the Technician uttered these words after the first scan “You can now lift and remove your breast from the plate.” Yup, lift and remove!  The squishing action had deflated my fun bag so much that it had lost the will to live and couldn’t muster the strength to spring off the plate by itself.  The same line was repeated 4 times over the course of the visit and each time it was hard not to titter like a juvenile or cackle like a deranged hyena. 

The other thing that became apparent during my mammogram was I really need to work on flexibility.  You have to be positioned in a very specific way to get a good scan.  Your hips and feet pointing straight forward, your shoulders in a different direction and the inside shoulder dropped.  The Technician commented that if I felt uncomfortable at any point in time during the “trash compactor” process,  I could bend my knees to relieve the pressure.  There was absolutely no way my knees could have bent, even if I wanted them to.  It seems spending a year recovering from dislocating fibulas has caught up to me.  Yes my new name is Tin Woman. 

How can one top a mammogram?  Why one can book a physical.  I can honestly say I have reached my quota of exposing parts of my body for people I don’t know, for few years at least. Initially there was some concern, as my blood pressure was high on the first reading, but it turns out it was only because I was answering questions while the reading was being taken.  The second reading was infinitely more like it.  I left the appointment with a script for blood work.  I figured in for a penny, in for a pound and high tailed it over to the lab to get it all done.  

Sadly the blood work came back and it seems I am no longer cuspie hypothyroidism and have silently transitioned to full blown, your thyroid is on strike status.  I say silently, as I didn’t have any of the well know symptoms such as fatigue, unexplained weight gain and hair loss.   I have had weight gain, but that can be explained by my need to treat myself for performing basic functions such as showing up for work and not swearing outloud!!!

Well done you! 

I have now spent a disproportionate amount of my vacation Googling and reading about the thyroid.  I have also started medication which is what inspired this post. See the surging feeling is back after a ten year hiatus.  It has left me wondering if the reason I have not had hot flashes, is because I have been hypothyroid this entire time.  One of the symptoms of hypothyroidism is cold intolerance, as in that your body typically runs on the cold vs hot side.  What if the hypothyroidism has been counterbalancing the hot flashes and has created a net neutral effect in my body.  What if starting the medication obliterates this equilibrium and hot flashes and night sweats commence.   That will make me very, very angry indeedy!

On the other hand if the surges allow me to practice and perfect my ability to shoot fire out of my finger tips, I will be very, very excited.  I’ve always wanted a super power and if I can’t teleport, being able to channel fire would be frickin’ awesome!!!!   I’m just a little bit of a Pyro!  I guess time will tell, what life has in store for me. 

Fingers crossed the wheel of fortune lands on Fire Fingers!

PS I wonder why Judy Blume never wrote a book about Menopause?  

PSS The poo test is the only thing I didn't accomplish over my vacation, as it has to be sent by mail and the Postal Strike put a wrench in getting that task ticked off my 2024 To Do List.  I guess the powers that be wanted to ensure I had something to look forward to in 2025!

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT 

Just in case you were wondering what the common symptoms are for hypothroidism… go see your Dr if you have: 

“Atlas of Human Anatomy”- Netter

• Fatigue
• Hoarseness
• Weight gain
• Muscle weakness or soreness
• Numbness or pain in hands
• Brain fog
• Depression
• Anxiety
• Dry, coarse skin
• Confusion
• Hair loss, sparse, course or dry hair
• Constipation
• Slow speech
• Dull facial expressions
• Drooping eyelids or puffiness around your eyes
• Inability to tolerate cold temperatures
• Muscle cramps and/or joint pain

Doesn’t this list just scream fun, fun, fun!!!  

Up Schitts Creek- But Rallying On to Kenora

How does one spend a particularly dismal couple of days?  I could be lamenting about the rain followed by a snow storm and my slushy, soupy driveway turned ice rink OR I could reflect on the journey to our third Rally Competition of the Year.  I chose the latter.  

As I have aged I have found it increasingly harder to balance my committments.  Have you encountered this too???  Has it always been this way and I was just oblivious?  Or maybe I have just blindly added to my list of obligations over the years with little regard to time management.  Anyhoo, for 2024 I had a lofty goal of attending as many Rally Competitions as I could; as long as the competitions had minimal impact on my work schedule, my ability to farm sit on the weekends and did not eat up all my vacation time, so that I still had time to visit with the family.  

Looking at the Rally event schedule I figured out there were exactly two weeks between the Kenora and Portage Dog Shows.   Hmm, in three weeks I could attend two competitions and fit in a visit with family and friends.  Sign me UP!  

As I registered for both competitions I may or may not have had a small panic attack when I realized how much the fees were going to set me back… did I mention dog shows are not for the faint of heart… and do you know of anyone who would be interested in being a corporate sponsor? 

Up until then the Ladies were only eligible to compete in one level at a time, but now they have graduated to the big leagues and could compete in both Advanced and Excellent at Kenora and Advanced, Excellent and Masters in Manitoba.  Well you can imagine how fast the entry fees rack up with you have three dogs running 3-4 trials per level per dog.  EXPENSIVE… even with the multi-run discounts. 

I had the option to travel right through to Kenora, same day, or to break up the trip.   I decided to spend one night at Pukaskwa for a well deserved night of camping.  I must admit it wasn’t the competition or the thought of seeing family that got me through the weeks of work prior to vacation, it was the thought of reconvening with nature, that had my cup running over with excitement.  As I drove that morning, I found myself randomly squealing “EEEEEEeeeeeee!”… every 30-45 minutes.  The frequency increased the closer we got to the campground.  I was even more delighted when we managed to snag my all time favourite campsite.   

It had been raining off and on for the 5 hour drive to Pukaskwa.   Luck was on my side and the sky’s cleared up as we pulled into the campground and registered for the eventing. With the Herd staked out on tie out ropes, I set up the tent and unpacked everything we would need for the night.  That done, it was time to explore. 

Before they decided to play Tie Out Twister

The plan was to go for a short hike down to the shores of Superior where we could look at the interesting pieces of driftwood that the Lake had deposited on the beach.  Nature had other thoughts.  We had just started down the trail to the beach when the skies opened up and it poured down upon us.  

NUTS!

I had left my rain jacket at the campsite and I really didn’t feel like spending the night with soaking wet dogs.  We weren’t far from a comfort station and I decided we would make a dash for it.  What I didn’t plan for was my foot landing weird when coming down a small hill.  The weird landing in combination with three dogs pulling on the leash resulted in a pop in the knee and excruciating pain.  I pushed the pain aside and hobbled triple speed to keep up with the dogs, who seemed to be equally intent to get out of the rain.  

We made it to the comfort station only to find out it was locked.  Thank-goodness for an overhang that we could huddle under waiting for the rain to lighten up.  The storm lasted no longer than 10 minutes, but it felt agonizingly longer as I couldn’t put weight on my left leg without pain shooting down to my toes and up into my hip.  Eventually the rain lightened and we slowly made our way back to campsite.  The dogs exuberantly bouncing about in the puddles and me swearing under my breath and growling at them to knock if off, as each jostle of a leash brought on a new wave of pain.  

Hiking was now out of the question, so I decided the next best thing was stretching out on the King Mondo air mattress to chill and read a good book.  I read, Ferg slept and the Ladies kept guard.  I had a moment of panic when a bunny decided to hang out at the entrance to the tent.  I don’t think it knew it was taunting death, sitting where it was sitting.  There was only a thin layer of mesh separating it, from three big dogs, one of which has shown an extreme interest in chasing down rabbits.  Luck for the rabbit the Ladies held it together and Ferg slept through it all.  It seems sleeping for 5-6 hours while someone else is driving can be tres exhausting!

Waiting for a break in the rain

What is that???

Travel can be soooo exhausting!

Mum, the Bunny is looking at us!

Ummmm nature!

Where is our supper? PS you have some ropes to untangle. Tee Hee!

We were up early the next morning to pack-up and head the rest of the way to Kenora. It’s a good thing I gave myself extra time to pack-up, as I had to figure out how to solve the Tie Out Tetris puzzle the dogs had created while I was packing up.  Ropes untangled.. swears kept to a minimum,  we were on the road.  

There was a quick stop in Terrace Bay for gas and a chance for us all to tap a kidney before we were on the road again.  Around Kakabeka Falls  I needed another pee break.  I typically “air” the dogs when I stop,  but this time I decided against it.  I don’t know why.  Maybe it was the thought of trying to manage all three dogs with a sore knee, while another dog was also out being aired OR I was trying to save time as they had already had a break a few hours before.  Whatever the reason it was a decision that I would regret in a few more hours. 

We were travelling down the highway and I ended up behind a semi carrying a load of livestock.  It was fragrant and I was biding my time until I could pass it and get out of the cloud of funk.  I passed the semi but the cloud of funk didn’t dissipate, in fact it was getting stronger.  I glanced over my shoulder at the three in the back and commented “That better be gas… ha ha!”.  It had to be in my imagination right?  The smell started to fade away… it was totally my mind and nose playing tricks with me.  Then all of a sudden it came back more pungent than ever!  What in H E double hockey sticks was going on?  I saw a side road and pulled over.  The smell was getting stronger.  Please tell me what I think happened, did not happen???

I open the back door and my nostrils and eyes confirmed that my worst fear was actualized.  Lyndy had a diarrhea accident in the back.  Ferg was huddled in the corner traumatized.  Lyndy looked chargrined and was trying to escape from her oops.  Meanwhile Hazel was dancing about… in and out of the diarrhea spill zone, excited to see where we were and what was up next on the docket.  I clipped leashes on all three and got them out of the vehicle to further survey the damage.  There were two main liquid poo piles on the mat,  but tails and paws had managed to paint poo on the door, back of the seat, etc.  As I turned around my rage scream lodged in my throat as I finally got a good look at Hazel.  My normally white dog was splotched with diarrhea brown.  

Christ all mighty she had laid down in it.  That explained why the smell had started to reduce for a short period in time, she was smoothering it with her body.  

Lovely! 

There was no way I can show up to a hotel with poo encrusted dog??? Not to mention there was no way I could compete with her poo stained self.  What could I do?

That is how I ended up deep cleaning the back of a truck and bathing a dog on the side of the highway,  while also holding onto and trying to control two other dogs. I thanked my lucky stars that I had to foresight to pack extra paper towel and garbage bags. I removed as much fecal matter as possible from the mat before rolling it up and depositing it into the box of the truck.  That would need to be a problem to solve on another day. 

Once everything was cleaned and sanitized to the best of my ability, we were back on the road again.  I did have a moment of  worry that history repeated itself when we caught up to the livestock truck in Dryden.  But the funk quickly disappeared when we passed.  Thankfully Lyndy lived up to her promise to keep all remaining poop in her body until we made it to Kenora.

The next snag in the plan was I couldn’t remember the name of the hotel that I had booked and I couldn’t find the email with the confirmation.   There I sat in the Tim’s parking lot looking at the list of Kenora hotels hoping that something would flag my memory.  It didn’t help.  I was drawing a blank.  Luckily my sister had recommended this particular hotel, as she had stayed there for work.  One text later, I Google mapped my way from the Tim’s parking lot to the hotel. 

WE HAD ARRIVED!

Nature’s Inn turned out to be the home away for home that we needed for the weekend.  The staff were friendly, the room was large enough to fit all the crates and still have room to walk around.  There was even a small table and chairs to use for meals.  The other bonus was it was close to the venue. 

Once unpacked we went for a short walk to unwind and coax more poo out of Lyndy.  My knee ached as I walked and there was intermittent sharp pains.    I wondered what the next day would be like, but hoped that Aleve would work its magic and get me through the evening and weekend.  

The next morning had both Lyndy and I popping Pepto.  Me for my nervous stomach, her to ensure there were no Hershey squirts in the ring.  I arrived early to set up and had a momentary panic when it did not look like there would be space on the floor of the arena to crate the dogs.  The only other alternative was to crate them on the upper mezzanine which would mean doing + + stairs, something that would be difficult to do quickly and ad nauseam with an injured knee.  But in true Rally fashion some of the competitors moved over so that I could tuck in my three crates.  

At the beginning of our Rally season we had been competing with the top three Rally teams in Canada.  Kenora introduced us the Teams ranked 4th and 5th.    Both dogs were owned by the same person and she and her two lab mix’s had an amazing weekend with perfect scores on most of their runs.  Man it is something else to watch a flawless run, let alone multiple flawless back to back runs.  Very impressive!!!  The Kenora club also did something that I had never seen before.  They presented High in Trial rosettes to the teams with the highest aggregate score over each trial run. This is something that tends to be offered in formal Obedience but this was the first time I had encountered it being offered for Rally.  Needless to say the Lab Mix teams went home with a plethora of well deserved rosettes!

On Day 1 Ferg managed to earn two legs in Masters, despite the handi-cap of having me as partner and finished off his Master’s title.  He would have had higher scores, if I had not continued to mess up signs. Duoh!!!

Hazel was all over the map on her runs. Sometimes she was ultra focused on me, other times she noticed everything around her.   At one point she got overly excited by the Shepherds running in the conformation ring that was adjacent to ours.  There was a moment where I thought she was going to jump the barrier to go and join them, as she really, really , really wanted to run vs having to do boring things like sitting, standing and backing up.  Thank goodness she managed to hold it together and she earned one leg toward her RAE title. 

Lyndy was lack luster in her performance on both runs.  There was a dog and a half between us when heeling (almost like she didn’t want to be seen with me😆) and she would follow through on commands but at her own pace.   Even though it wasn’t her best work she did manage to make it through all 4 runs with no poo accidents in the ring and with qualifying scores in both her Advanced and Excellent runs for two legs toward her RAE title.

Is that a human or elephant knee?

I wish I could say that my knee also held out, but it didn’t.  Sadly, Aleve was not enough to combat the hell of prolonged walking and pivoting on an injured limb.   By the end of the day I was walking like a pirate with a peg leg, complete with a grimace with each step.  I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and put my leg up.  It wasn’t until I got back to the hotel and surveyed the damage that I realized me knee wasn’t just a little hurt it was FUBAR!  It had ballooned up to double its normal size, with swelling in my calf and up into the thigh.  In a desperate attempt to reduce the swelling I started a contrast bath for my leg, sitting in hot water for a few minutes and then as cold as I could stand it water for a few minutes. Repeat, repeat, repeat.  It helped a little, as did the Tylenol and second Aleve, but I still had difficulty walking.  Thank goodness I conveniently had not removed the cane from the back seat of the truck after my last round of dislocating fibula.  Procrastination for the win!  

As I didn’t have it in me to go out for food I ordered in from Spice N Nice Indian Food Hub.  Man was I impressed with their butter chicken.  It was hands down the best butter chicken that I have ever had.  I would highly recommend this restaurant if you are ever in Kenora.  

Spice N Nice… Yummmmmm!

Lyndy took advantage of my impaired mobility to try and claim the bed.  She knows full well that I don’t allow dogs on the bed in hotels but that doesn’t stop her from trying her luck.  I guess she thought I would relent as she was also feeling under the weather, but it doesn’t work that way.  She was banished right after I snapped this shot.

Nice try… OFF THE BED!

Despite the contrast bath, anti-inflammatories and sleeping with my leg elevated on pillows, my knee was still double its size the next morning.  Now a sane person might have just taken it as a sign that was time to go home to be loved up by my Mom, but I am not a sane person, I am cheap, determined Mother Fudger and there was no way I was going to forfeit all that money and not compete.  Tylenol, and Aleve were added to my Pepto cocktail and cane in hand I loaded the Herd into the truck for our final day of competition.  It didn’t take me long to realize that the only way I was going to make it through the day was to use the cane.  I brought it into the ring for Ferg’s first Master’s run, but quickly realized that although it aided my mobility it caused the dogs to panic and mess up the signs.  I quickly compromised and used the cane to get to and from the ring but would leave it on the chair with the leash while we ran the course. 

The second day of competition proved to be Hazel’s day.  She managed to get two more legs toward her RAE title, even with some jumping, running and hopping around the ring.  One of the judges commented “I know she has been naughty in the ring, but I just love her personality!”.  That sums Hazel up very succinctly… naughty but lovely!

Lyndy and Ferg both petered out by the last run.  Neither qualifying for their Advanced, Excellent and in Ferg’s case Master’s run.  Ferg became progressively slower with each run, to the point where I think he was walking backward in the final run of the event.  Even with this set-back, Ferg still managed to earn enough points to become the #1 Golden in Canada after that weekend.  It was short lived… but it happened🙌🎆.

I tell you, you have not lived until you try to load three dogs, three crates and all the accoutrement’s that go with dog shows into a vehicle while needing a cane to help with mobility.  It was trying, but I managed to get it done.  It was a quiet ride to my parents.  The dogs were conked out and did not stir until we pulled up in the driveway.  Even at that they barely lifted their heads from their slumber, but life was breathed back into them when they heard Grandma’s voice.  We had made it and were…

HOME FOR A REST! (As if!!!)

I’d like to shout out to the:

• Kenora & District Dog Club for providing a fantastic venue for the competition. 
• The Ring Stewards and Organizers for all their hard work and assistance.  Without you we would not have a show to compete at!
• The other competitors for their words of wisdom and for cheering us on and
• The Judges Mary Monteith and Diana MacKenzie for their well thought out and challenging courses. 

Dogs with Jobs

I am a week into my annual retreat from the daily grind of life.  I tend to take this time to get a head start on typical New Year’s Resolutions like healthy living and this year is no exception.  After spending most of the year dealing with dislocating bones I have finally made my triumphant return to morning yoga and meditation (Chuckle of the day: Spell check changed meditation to medication… which is ironic as that is how my mornings have started for at least the last six months,,, thank-you makers of Tylenol). 

I love the 10-15 minute yoga clips that Yoga with Kassandra produces on YouTube.  As it has been over 8 months since I last did one of her video’s I totally forgot about her encouragement to set an intention for the upcoming day… something that I hoped to encounter or embody.  My word for today is joy and what brings me joy… 

DOGS! Especially puppies!!!!

GoldenPride Norah X George Litter

During Covid I started fostering a Mom for GoldenPride Kennels.  It was the best decision of my life.  Not only did I get to expand the herd by one, I also secured unlimited access to puppies.  

GoldenPride Whisper X Nigel Litter

GoldenPride Whisper X Sebastian Litter

Puppy Snuggles!!!!

The disadvantage of this arrangement is there are points in time when the Mom is away from home and the house feels empty.  However, I have found a coping mechanism to get me through it all… I choose to look at it as the Mom is away on a business trip and we get to meet up at least once a week at Disneyland aka the whelping box to debrief on how our week went.  I complain about work, the amount of snow I have had to shovel and lack of time to partake in all my preferred extracurriculars and she laments about the pain of birthing a litter, sore nipples, how tired she is and how it is all worth it for unlimited access to food.  At the end of the visit we part ways vowing to meet up again and hoping for the best for each other in the week to come. 

My fostering of the one Mom led to fostering of three more future Mom’s, and recently one of the future Mom’s became a Mom.  Yup, Lyndy is now a Mummy!  I will admit I was nervous about how she would take to motherhood, as she tends to be a little persnickety about change and she is not as open to meeting other dogs as the rest of the herd is.  Over the last two years she has tolerated having various puppies in the house, but she doesn’t actively follow them around and engage with them like Hazel and Wee.  I spent the whole of her pregnancy hoping for the best and trying to guess how many puppies were bipping and bopping in her belly.

She was due Nov 20/21st and the hope was that she would hold off until the weekend to have her puppies.  Well that was the Breeder’s hope.  I on the other hand couldn’t wait for her to head to the farm for her lying-in period, as she was up every hour to two hours each night needing outside to use the washroom.  Maybe it was my anxiety about work or her impending motherhood, but once up, it was hard for me to get back to sleep and in a 48 hr period I was lucky if I accrued a grand total of 6 hours of sleep.

Well Lyndy decided to extend my sleepless purgatory. The night of Nov 20th she was restless the entire evening, panting so hard at times the entire bed shook… not conducive to sleeping.  I couldn’t handle it and got up to create a “den” for her in the smallest most zen like room in the house.  She initially settled, but about an hour later she was up vomiting and then had a poo accident.  It became apparent that I was not going to get much sleep so I let her come back to the bed.  

As she made herself comfortable in the blankets she stuck her nose up in the air and made a noise that was part belch and part grunt.  After the second one I started wondering if it was gas or a contraction.  I was humming and hawing about calling the Breeder when I just happened to place my hand on her stomach as she did it again.  

Just the cutest dang Contraction Face!

DEFINITELY A CONTRACTION!

CRAP!!!!

Why had I not prepared the back of the truck for this? What if she started birthing while I was driving out to the Farm??? I threw extra absorbent mats and towels down on the floor of the truck, loaded Lyndy in and started driving like a wailing Banshee to the Farm.  It did not help that a torrential rain storm was happening at the same time.  I got to the turn off for the highway and there was a Police car parked waiting to catch speeders.  I momentarily considered pulling over and asking for a Police escort, but decided that most likely would be a waste of time,  so  I slowed it down, at least until I rounded the corner, and was out of radar range.

Truthfully I couldn’t go to much over the speed limit as the standing water on the highway made it hard not to hydroplane when travelling more than 10 km over the speed limit.  I went with the safer option of taking it slower and arriving alive vs having Lyndy giving birth in a car wreck on the edge of the highway.  

I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to play a little game.  Here is a picture of Lyndy 5 days before her due date.  How many puppies do you think are baking in her belly?

Bonus points if you can guess the final count of boys and girls

We arrived at the Farm around 2:45 am.  Although the rational part of my brain was telling me to drop her off and head home to get some sleep; the emotional part couldn’t leave her angsty and unsure as to what was going on, so I settled into a comfortable position in the whelping box and the waiting game began.  

Lyndy was in a semi-crouched position when the first one shot out around 3:30 am. The look on her face was priceless when she turned around to see what happened and spotted the baby.  She didn’t know what had come out of her back end, but it definitely wasn’t poo.  She started warming up to the puppy, as I cleaned and interacted with it and it wasn’t long before she was licking and nuzzling her (in case you are playing the game… I’m giving you a freebie here!). 

A little while after the second puppy arrived I took Lyndy outside for a washroom break.  Unfortunately I was a little too slow getting my shoes on and she had a Hershey squirt accident in the house.  Sorry J!  We headed outside just in case there was more in the tank and there was.  

Picture it, I’m standing out in the pouring rain holding a washcloth and a flashlight that is trained on Lyndy’s backend in case a puppy shoot out instead of poo, when I notice something long and green hanging down from her back end.  What was it?  I definitely knew it wasn’t a puppy.  Could it be a placenta??  Highly unlikely as she had already delivered the placenta’s with the first two puppies.  I knew this as I had to squelch my gag reflex while watching her attempt to scarf down each placenta.  She would start chewing and trying to swallow the placenta but as it reached the back of her throat she objected to the texture and it would start coming back up.  A scene that is not for the faint of heart nor for those that are easily grossed out.  Eventually we gave up on Lyndy being able to eat the placenta and bite through the cord and we had to cut the cord and discard the mangled placentas in the garbage.

Okay not placenta… what could it be?  Curiosity got the better of me and I gingerly took a hold of the end  and gave a gentle tug. It started to move.  I pulled some more…  more came out.  I pulled and pulled and pulled and it just kept coming.   

What in H E double hockey sticks is this????

It wasn’t until the entire length came out that I realized what I had been pulling out of her was the end of a roll of poo bags.  

Yup!  

The yahoo ate poo bags!  Maybe it was a misguided attempt to pre-package the poo to reduce my clean up, but her experiment did not work and thank the Good Lord she didn’t end up with another obstruction.   Yes, this is not her first trip to the I ate weird stuff rodeo.  In fact she has earned a long scar for her ability to eat and not pass weird stuff.  I tossed the three bags on the grass and we headed back in for Round 2. 

By the time we made it back inside the two littles were squawking up a storm.  They missed their Mom and man were they hungry.  Lyndy didn’t appreciate being greeted with mewling and refused to get close to them, let alone lie back down.  Gentle coaxing couldn’t entice her to leave the safety of behind my back.  We eventually resorted to lifting her over to the puppies, as she vehemently refused to go on her own.  As soon as the puppies settled on teats she was back to thinking these little beings weren’t so bad.  The night progressed with a puppy every 30- 45 minutes until the last one made an arrival at 7:30 a.m.  

There is something to say about formal obedience training!  Right after she had her first one I told her she had to be done by 7:30 so I had enough time get home and get to work.  I love that she took my suggestion to heart.  I stayed with her until I knew she wouldn’t miss me and then I was in the truck, rushing back to town for a Mickey Dee’s breakfast, a change of clothes and then it was off to work for the day.  

There were doubters that I could put in a full day of work on zero hours sleep, but little did they know I have had years of training thanks to chronic bouts of insomnia and summers working nights to pay for school.  I was 100% alert and lucid while assessing and observing.  The one thing that I couldn’t do was chart.  As soon as I started typing out notes I felt my eyelids drooping and my head nodding.  More than once I know I drifted into a one second nap right in the middle of typing.  Re-reading what I had typed, I realized that there was a huge risk that any notes made that day wouldn’t make sense, so I decided to fore go typing and relied on taking detailed handwritten notes, as handwriting didn’t have the same effect of lulling me into slumber.  I finished off my day and it was home for a rest, but not before checking in to see how Lyndy was doing.  

It seems all my angst about her ability to adapt to motherhood was misplaced.  She and the little litlle’s were all doing well.  Secure in the knowledge that she was embracing her new job, I head to bed for some much earned rest and puppy dreams!

We have reached the end.   Do you have your guess as to the number of puppies and how many of each locked in?  If not, I will give you another second or two to make your choice.

FROM THIS

Little Lyndy

TO THIS…. THE GRAND UNVEIL!!!

The “Hart”land Litter (GoldenPride Lyndy X Tyco Litter)

Bonus Points if you guessed 9!

As Lyndy was named after one of the characters from Heartland, the quintessential Canadian Horse Woman show and the Breeder’s last name is Hart it seemed fitting to name the puppies after Heartland characters.  Here is the break down of who is who:

Pink Collar: Amy 

Purple Collar: Lou

Blue Collar: Ty

Yellow Collar: Katie

Orange Collar: Georgie

Red Collar: Jack

Dark Green Collar: Mallory

Light Green Collar: Jade

Black Collar: Caleb

6 Girls and 3 Boys.  

The puppies are now three weeks old and are up starting to move around and their eyes are open.  Lyndy  is going to be one busy dog over the next five weeks and Grandma is going to be one happy camper!

THE END

Tiny Mallory toes!

There Was Something In the Air… Outdoor Rally Competitions

I’m very behind in my blogging and am using this opportunity to catch up.  The plan had been to blog right after each Rally trial but that didn’t happen.  So now you will get the highlights that I can remember, as we attended a number of shows over the month of June 2024.  The Muskoka trial kick started my trial bug and I was hankering for another fix.  The plan was to maximize the number of trials we entered but try and keep the driving distance under 6 hours.  The Powassan trial seemed to fit the bill… less than 6 hours away, 4 runs to maximize our chances of titling.  The only thing that I missed was the large bold letters OUTDOOR TRIAL!.

Little did I know at that time of entry, that my distrust of on-line banking would cause such havoc and lead to some mega stress.  The listing for the trial indicated that it would be a small show with a limited  first come first serve entry.  Even though registration had only been open a few days the organizer informed me they were close to capacity and if I wanted to attend I needed to get my entries and payment in quickly.  

The problem was I don’t have e-transfer capability and I had run out of cheques. 

What to do?

Some quick research gave me a glimmer of hope.  I could send a money order from Canada Post.  If I sent it Express post it would be there in 1-2 days, hopefully in enough time to secure spots for Ferg and the Ladies.  Everything was squared away the next day by 12:30 pm.   I was feeling pretty proud of myself and my quick thinking.  Look at me, both solving my problem and helping out Canada Post (which had just announced business model issues the day before).   Using the tracking number I started following the package’s progress across the province.  

It left the city the afternoon of Day one.  Off to a fantastic start. 

Day 2 it arrived in Toronto.  Whoot! Whoot!  Not long until our registration would be finalized.

Day 3 there was a delay.  No need to panic.

Day 4 it had travelled from Toronto to Barrie.

Day 5- Unexpected delays, no estimated time for delivery, could not locate current location.  Phoned the contact line,  could not get through.  Tried social media account and was told that was only answered on weekdays.  Tried the chat bot… it wouldn’t/couln’t answer my questions.  Frustration was mounting, along with my anxiety that we would miss out on being able to register for the trial.   I tried the Canada Post phone line again and eventually got a customer service rep who confirmed the package was in the system, not to worry, it would be on its way.  I expressed my concerns that I paid a premium to have the package delivered in 1-2 days and we were now on Day 5.  I mentioned that the odds were high that the envelope would have arrived faster sending it with just a stamp and was told… had I sent it by stamp there wouldn’t have been the ability to track it.  

Day 6- Still unexpected delays with no estimated time for delivery.  Are you kidding me!!!!!  I had checked on the status so many times over the last six days, I had the 10 digit tracking code memorized. 

Day 7-  Still no movement.  I tried to fill in the on-line form that would start an official inquiry process, but it would not accept the address that the package was sent to.  I ended up phoning the number to cancel the money order, as the new plan was to have one of my friends, who has faith in on-line banking, send the e-transfer for me.  I about lost it when I was told that I would have to wait 40 days before I could cancel the money order and be reimbursed… Canada Post had to make sure that it had not been delivered first.  I pointed out that we knew it had not been delivered yet, as it spent the weekend somewhere between Barrie and Toronto.  The Rep checked into it and quickly identified that the issue was a “looping error”.    One of the most frustrating questions that customer service reps kept asking was… “When does it need to be at the destination?”  My response was last week Thursday… which was why I chose to send it Express. 

In the end, the envelope had to be manually pulled from the system or it most likely would still be shuttling back and forth between Barrie and Toronto.  By the next day it had arrived a full week after it had been posted.  I had been promised by the Supervisior that I spoke with, that I would have official answers to what went wrong and reimbursement within a week of my call. Answers and reimbursement never happened, but in fairness I got busy and never followed up myself.

Registration secured I started doubling down  on the training to get the dogs ready to compete outside.  We trained in the yard, the park, the farm.  It became apparent pretty fast that Hazel would be the one to struggle the most at the trial, as she was thrown by the wind, birds, grass smells etc.  I had to break out the cheese reinforcement to even get her to look in my general direction when any of the aforementioned distractions were present.  

The other thing that became a concern was all three “forgot” how to go over a jump.  What was the issue… they are used to jumping inside…. Outside jumping???  We can jump outside????  Thankfully I discovered this two days before we left for the show.  Ferg and Lyndy adapted the fastest…. Hazel went over 1 out of 5 times, if I was lucky. 

According to the internet Powassan, didn’t have any dog friendly hotels,  so we ended up booking a hotel in North Bay.  The plan was to leave around noon, get there around 5 pm, settle in, go for a walk and just relax.  It turns out that I am the Queen of Wishful Thinking.  Noon rolled around and I wasn’t even remotely ready, my schedule had been thrown off by multiple pee accidents by Brie.  She peed while I packed and then decided to flood her crate while I went to pick-up groceries for the trip.  Irritation was running high by the time I loaded all five in the truck at 2:00.  

I hurdled down the highway, with a quick stop to drop off Wee and Brie at the farm.  Luckily traffic was light on the highway and we were able to make up some time; rolling into the hotel parking lot around 7pm.  

30 minutes later I was out in the parking lot trying to convince the dogs to eliminate both bowel and bladder when I heard my name.  I look up and see my friend and her husband over in the parking lot.  What are the odds that her child would have a soccer tournament in North Bay the same time I had a dog trial and we both decided to stay at the same hotel? We had a quick chat that was cut short by the dog’s perpetual need to wrap the leashes around my legs and then try to leap up on K&J.   My crankiness factor indicated that an early bed time was required. 

I must say the hotel room was roomy and deluxe.  It easily accommodated the three crates, three dogs and myself.  The only thing that would have made it better was if the room was on the main floor vs second floor.  It is hard to manage flights of stairs, three dogs and three crates at the same time.  I will also say that North Bay and the surrounding area is very picturesque and there was lots going on.  It definitely would be a great place to go and explore when I have a little more time.

The Super 8 in North Bay is 3 out of 3 Golden approved!

The drive down to Powassan went smoothly the next morning and before I knew it we were set up and checked-in for the trials.  Ferg was first up in Master’s.  The outdoor format and having people so close to the entry blew his mind.  The Judge had just finished asking “Are you ready?”.  I was in the process of saying “Yes”, when Ferg looked over his shoulder and took off out of the ring to jump into the lap of one of the ring stewards.  The Judge took pity on me and let me repeat X 2, each time resulting in Ferg bolting from the ring.  On the final attempt I took it upon myself to say “We are ready!” Before the judge even asked.  Well dear reader, it doesn’t work that way… you have to wait for the Judge to ask.  The fourth time ended up being the charm and we made it past the first few signs before Ferg decided to make a break for the exit after taking the jump.  Can’t blame him it was lined up perfectly with the exit and there were “adoring fans” waiting for him. 

Running out of sleeve space for Competition #’s

The Ladies also struggled with the outdoor venue.  There was grass to smell, something in the bush across the road (never figured out what it was), the heat and limited shade to contend with.  I chalked Day One up as a figuring out day.  I learned Ferg had to sit on an angle facing away from the exit if I wanted any hope that he would remain in the ring.  I really needed a refresher course in lefts and rights as I kept doing Master signs backward and I really needed to invest in shade cover and another battery powered fan before our next outdoor show.  

What I totally love is how quiet life is after Day One of a trial.  The herd is usually sleeping before we even make it to the highway and they rouse long enough to have a pee break before couching out again once we get to the hotel room.  

Post show crash and burn

What was the end result you ask?

Ferg qualified in all his Advanced and Excellent runs which helped him work toward his RAE title.  By some miracle he also managed to earn two high in trials for two out of his 12 runs.  Whoot Whoot!.   This accomplishment tempered the disappointment of only qualifying for one out of four of his Master’s runs.

Lyndy worked hard and managed to earn her Excellent title and one high in trial for one of her 8 runs. 

Hazel also managed to earn her Excellent title but the toys in the ring proved to be too much for her.  She would take the jumps and then bee-line for the toys. Ripping around the ring as soon as she “captured” the contraband.  It would have been amusing to watch… but the humour of it all was lost on me while in the ring.  

We definitely found out that all three need more time training outdoors and around lots of distractions. 

The Herd and I would like to shout out to EPS Training Associates for their patience and understanding with the delay in getting payment to them and for hosting the event.  We also send a shoutout to the Judges Del Lunn and Susan Des Cotes for the challenging courses, the patience with Ferg’s Day One ring breaks and for the reminders to read the signs and brush up on lefts and rights before heading into the ring.😄 

The Ogre Years…

 I hate to admit it but I have seem to have entered the Ogre years of my life. That period of time between cute young thing and cute little old lady.  Now you might be asking how does one find out they have entered the dawn of Ogre times? 

The snow moat in it’s infancy

My epiphany was brought on by the scads and scads of snow that fell last weekend and continues to fall without an end in sight.  When I first moved into my house there was a multitude of men who would volunteer to help the “poor” young woman clear what the City sees fit to dump into my corner lot driveway.   It was like they were fighting over the opportunity to help me out.  A truck with a front end plow would be passing by and the driver would slow down, wave me aside and take a sweeping pass to push the bank out of the way.  Or my early rising neighbour, with a tractor, would push the offending snow out of the way while I slumbered. Or if I decided to have a slow start to my morning and no one else had moved the snow my other neighbour would  snow blow my driveway after he finished his. Nothing beat  waking-up fully prepared for snow removing duty only to glance out the window and see the snow had been moved.  I would do a little happy dance, change back into lounge pants and sit on my couch sipping a cup of tea or hot chocolate, delighting in the luxury of it all.  

During those years, I remember experiencing occasional bouts of irritation, as this assistance brought with it the implication that I lacked the physical strength and endurance to clear the driveway and windrows by myself.  However my parents didn’t raise a fool and my chagrin was quickly replaced with gratitude, as it meant that I could hit the ski or snowshoe trails earlier than I thought.  If I had known that it would all come to an end, I would have cherished those moments all the more.

Flash forward 20 years.  Now when the snow flies I am out there with the snow float, for hours at a time, clearing as much as I can before the next snow squall strikes.  My neighbours with snow blowers come out well after I have started, clear their driveways and head back in to the warmth of their houses.  The tractors from snow removal companies zip on by ad nauseam, taunting me with how fast they can clear a driveway… seriously they are done in the time it takes me to load and move three floats of snow.

As I load the bucket of the float with yet another load of wet slushy snow, I can almost picture the thought bubbles over the tractor operators heads  “Just think if you had a contract with us you could be watching us work from the comfort of your house, but now you must live with your frugal a$$ decision to clear snow on your own.  It sucks to be you!!!”  So while the rest of the world continues on with their lives, I am spending minute after minute and hour after hour hauling and dumping bucket after bucket of snow.  The banks have reached an all time high in the front and the back and the snow still comes.  I must admit I am more than a little nervous about running out of space to dump snow if we don’t get a break and continue to have record breaking snow fall until March.  

Yes Virginia, that is a double snow moat around my house.

Now one could assume that this reduction in people proffering to help with  shovelling is a direct result of a change in culture.  That people in the 2020’s  are less likely to help if there is nothing in it for them.  I would like to think that that’s what is happening, but for one glaring exception to this rule that I have witnessed on Day 2 and 3 of Snowmagedon!

See there is a small in stature, but larger than life, 78 year old Greek woman who lives down the street who has a double wide driveway that she clears by hand, when she is not showcasing her mad snowblower skills.  Seriously you should see her rock her snowblower, wearing her dark wrap around shades and beanie toque.  She is so tiny her body is hidden by the auger housing of the blower and all you see is a winter bedecked head floating between the handlebars when you are looking at her from head on.  My view from down the street is a solitary blue Pom Pom moving up and down the snow bank as she methodically makes pass after pass… Pong the Winter version!  But I digress.

Everyone was out trying to rid their walkways and driveways of the foot of snow that fell overnight.  I looked down the street to see Mrs C slowly making her way down her driveway with her snow float.  I vowed that I would head down that way to help her out once I was done clearing the end of my driveway, but the operator of the tractor that was hired to clear her neighbours driveway beat me to it.   He made quick business of the neighbour’s driveway and then waved Mrs. C out of the way and zip, zip, zip her driveway was done and he was bombing down the street toward my house.   I was tackling the 4 1/2 foot wall of snow, the plow left at the end of the my walkway.  As the tractor got closer I started anticipating the nod and wave aside, the thrill of watching the snow wall being obliterated in one fell swoop.   I could almost taste the chocolatey goodness of a steam cup of cocoa that I planned to make myself to celebrate.  The hum of the motor was getting closer and closer, my excitement level was building… Am I warmed up enough to do a happy dance without pulling a muscle??? The tractor started to slow down as it approached my location… I’m waiting for the wave off, only there isn’t one and the tractor doesn’t stop.  Instead it speeds around the corner to the next driveway on his list.  

This is what I was moving when he went by!

D frickin’ ied!!! 

I’m standing there dazed and confused.  This didn’t use to happen?  I can’t believe it… I lost my come hither remove my snow mojo!  To add insult to injury, my other neighbours come out and snow blow their driveways and return back into the comfort of their houses while I’m still chugging away at clearing mine.  All that was offered was some sage commentary that they shouted over their shoulders as they headed into their houses- “Try not to have a heart attack!”  In fact, I heard this same comment at least five times over the course of the two hours it took me to finish shovelling.   I guess that is all that an Ogre can hope for in life is to finish two hours of shovelling and still be alive to start the process again the next day.  

Well if you need me, you know where I will be… out in the driveway shovelling and taking many water breaks to minimize the risk that one of my neighbours will have to perform CPR on this tired ole’ Shrek’s carcass.  

PS.  I can’t have you thinking my neighbours are all cavalier about my health and well being.  Mrs. C, the bad a$$ Greek woman from down the block, using her snow float for balance, made it half way down the street to another set of neighbours asking them to relay a message to me, as she is too old to make it all the way to my place (her words not mine).  She wanted me to know that I could borrow her snow blower if I needed it, as she was worried about me.  Us single ladies need to stick together!

PSS.  I had to call my brother to find out what the front part of the snow blower is called… he laughed when I asked what the part was called that covered the whirly whirly bit that munched up the snow and moved it to the shootie out part.   Joke was on him as he didn’t know what it was called either.  Google supplied the word auger… boring!  

PSSS.  If anyone wants some white stuff for Christmas let me know.  I’m will to ship it to you 😶‍🌫️

An ice boulder left at the end of my walkway, trying to close the snow portal, but not quite big enough!

The Revenge of the Squeak Kind

A few years ago I had an issue with mice in the house.  One winter they found their way in and decided to set-up shop.  I found out about the perimeter breach when I was cleaning downstairs.  I moved a blanket in the cat bed and something fell to the floor.  At first I thought it was an ear plug… the lighting in the basement aka Pit of Despair is not the best.  It wasn’t until I reached down to pick it up and saw it move that I realized…. not an earplug…. NOT AN EARPLUG!  

Panic took over.   What the frig was it?  Where was its mother? And more importantly how was I going to solve the problem of getting my “surprise” out of the house.  It took some deep calming breaths to stabilize my heart rate and reengage the thinking part of my brain.   My goal… to get the baby picked up off the floor, but not to touch it with my hands.  Inspired by some paint stir sticks laying on a shelf nearby I used one stir sticks as a shovel and the other to prod the little pink creature onto my make-shift shovel.   There was a small celebration moment when I succeeded, but it was short lived, as I needed to muster all my courage to execute the next part of the plan….

MURDER! 

In no uncertain terms could the pinkie stay in the house.  That said, there was only one other logical conclusion to its story… death!  Oh how I would have preferred delegating this particular part of the plan to someone else, but that is the pitfall of living alone… you get all the jobs… fun right through to natsy!

Sure, I could have left it to the cats to finish it off,  but I didn’t have a lot of trust in their abilities to handle the situation, given the thing was found in their bed.  Besides knowing them, the pinkie’s death journey would  have been prolonged and most likely painful.   Bashing it would have been quick, but messy, and more than I could stomach.  Therefore I went with the only other plausible option, I quickly dropped the pinkie  into the garbage bag at my feet and secured the top to ensure there was no way it would get out.   I said prays and wished it a quick and painless death as I carried the bag up the stairs and out into the cold winter morning.  I then spent the rest of the day oscillating between guilt, remorse and fear of what was really lurking in my basement.  

Ever since that day I have been battling the squeaks.  They find a way in.  I find the new entrance  and counter with steel wool and caulking.  Then the squeaks regroup and try again.  I swear the one side of my house has more caulking and steel wool than it has siding and stone foundation.  I have even gone so far as to toy with installing a moat of Gardner snakes or getting a pet owl to hang out in the basement.  The first was quickly parked as that would mean living adjacent to snakes… the second because I would need to get a Falconer’s license.  

Although I appear to have been “winning” the war the last few years I can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding every time I grace the entrance to the pit of despair.  Each time I carefully tread down the stairs, hyper alert to anything that suggests a squeak is down there. 

Flash forward to a few weekends back.  I’m doing laundry and for once I decided to take the time to fold and carry up everything that has been washed thus far. I start loading pants, sweats, shirts, hoodies into the cradle of my arm.  My arm is piled high with clothing when I see the folded duvet that the laundry was laying on start to move.  Surely to God it was a trick of the eye.  I reach for some socks and it moves again but more violently.  Panic starts to rise.

There is something in the folds…..

Ohhh God…. NOOOOOOOOO!

I’m frozen in place.  The movement in the folds is getting larger and more frantic.  Whatever is in there is getting closer and is just about to poke its head out of the fold.  

I SCREAM!!!!!

I hear the dogs scrabbling over the hardwood upstairs running to get to me.  Adrenaline takes over and I turn ready to drop the laundry and run… run until I can’t run any more.  

WHY ME!!!

As I turn, primed to commence my 200 yard dash to the freedom of the upstairs, I catch a glimpse of something that stops me in my tracks.  There is a piece of thread that is running from the laundry in my arm to the duvet.  

What that what????

It turns out it was the movement of my arm that was causing the duvet to move, not some rodent awakened from its warm and cloud like slumber in the pillowy softness of the duvet. 

Yes dear reader… I unwittingly managed to prank the crap out of myself.  

Even though I know it was a string, I can’t help but be leery as I approach the laundry area these days. It’s going to take me a while to recover.  Then again maybe this is the Squeaks upping their game.  Tricking me into a false sense of security, only to launch the Mother of all grand coups.   If you don’t hear from me in a while, I suggest looking in the basement first… the squeaks might have managed to finally do me in!!!  

PS-  If you come looking for me, bring weapons.  If they got me there is nothing saying they won’t try to get you too!!!