Peewee

As long as I can remember, I always asked my parents for a puppy. Every Christmas, every birthday, every chance I got, I asked for a puppy. My parents always said no. No, there's no room. No, they're too much trouble. No, you're allergic. No, No, No. Finally, one day in 1998 my perseverance paid off. I walked into a pet shop with my mom (just to look of course) and won her over when she saw the cutest, smallest, whitest little chihuahua she had ever seen. A couple of days later we brought him home. His name, Peewee. At the age of 22 I finally got my first dog. Needless to say the dog and I were inseparable. I taught him tricks, I took him for walks, we played fetch with his favorite stuffed cow (la vaquita) and he slept in my bed with me. When I got married (in 2002) my mom said "you're not taking my dog with you".

How do you like that? The people that wouldn't let me have a dog for all those years, now didn't want to let him go. I let Peewee stay with them (as if I had a choice) since I was never really home those days anyway (work during the day, school at night), so he would've been alone all day if he went to live with me. So of course Peewee then got attached to my mom. They would go for long walks twice a day, she taught him tricks and of course they played all day with his beat up cow. He would watch the soaps with her or watch the game with my dad and curl up on the sofa next to them so they could scratch his back.

Even though I didn't live at home anymore, Peewee was always at the door to greet me hello whenever I came. He liked Christian too, but only from a distance. Christian loved chasing him and he had just recently learned to say "Peewee! Peewee!". Christian would grab his cow and throw it to him and Peewee would run to get it and then bring it back and they would do it all over again. They were perfect for each other because neither would get tired of the game. It was endlessly amusing for both of them.

In the past month or so, Peewee hadn't really been doing well. He'd always been a bit chubby (7 or 8 pounds), but recently he had been jaundiced and had lost some weight. We were concerned, but still hopeful. The vet gave him some medicine because he said his liver function was not doing well. The medicine didn't work and the weight kept coming off (he now weighed a little over 3 pounds). An appointment with a specialized vet was made, a scan was taken and the worst was revealed...cancer of the liver. They said perhaps surgery would help, but that carried only a 40% chance of success. We received this dreadful news last week. I guess we were in denial since he was still up and running about.

Last night I went to see him because my mom was crying and she wanted to put him to sleep because he had been throwing up and could barely stand up anymore. He was sitting up in his little bed, but was very weak. He looked like he was using all his energy just to sit up for me. I asked him to lay down and I put the blanket over him. I patted his little head and cried next to his bed. Christian came over to pat his head too. Without any of us having said anything, Cman seemed to understand that all was not well with the doggy. I sat there for a little while caressing Peewee's head. If I knew that was the last time I was going to see him alive, I would have picked him up, hugged him, kissed him and held him. Held him all night long if need be.

This morning, the first dog I ever had, the first dog I ever loved, passed away. I am beside myself with sadness.

Rest in peace my little baby. I love you and miss you.

Traveling Head

In my last post I asked for ideas for places to take my little out of town friend (say hello to my little friend) and nobody responded (I'd like to think that it was because blogger was having issues...yes, that is what I'd LIKE to think happened), but that's OK cause the weather was crappy, so I couldn't go anywhere anyway. You're probably wondering who my mystery friend is by now. Well, it's not really a person, but an item. When I got home on Wednesday last week I found this lovely package on my front porch. I love finding packages on my front porch and I love it even more when I haven't even bought anything, unless the package is ticking, in which case, I don't love it too much. As soon as I saw the label that said "Toby's Traveling Skull" I stopped dialing the bomb squad number and hung up the phone. How fun! A skull!... and a traveling one at that! We Halloween folk are excited by things like these you see.

Two years ago (when I was child-free and obviously didn't have enough things to do with my time) I signed up to be a part of this traveling skull adventure. I had totally forgotten about it and figured it had fallen by the wayside, but alas, there was the skull, right on my front porch. I thought to myself: Wow, the skull is here, now I have to go out and do fun and adventurous things so that I can take pictures with the skull and write about all the wonderful things that we did while he was with me. Pressure!

Unfortunately for those of you paying attention to the weather here in Miami (which you should all be, yes, even those of you from MA should pay attention to the weather here), you might have noticed that last week's weather was completely crappy. It rained almost every day; so much for taking mr. skull to South Beach to pick up girls (he likes the bony types). Instead, mr. skull had to make due with sitting on my bar for a couple of days. I am getting ahead of myself though; when I first took him out the box, he was all the rage. The doggies were sniffing and Christian was patting him on the head. I told mr. skull that that was a universal toddler gesture of acceptance.

On Sunday, we got dressed up and went over to my mom's house to celebrate Father's Day (Do we look like the Adams family or what? da da da dum snap snap). On Monday, mr. skull got to go shopping and on Tuesday, it was "Take your skull to work day" (you're probably asking doesn't everybody take their skull to work everyday?...well, sometimes I wonder), so mr. skull came to work with me and sat in my office for the day.

It was quite a fun task even though I received numerous strange looks throughout the week. Some people thought it was weird that I was carrying around a skull, but others thought the project was pretty neat. I can't wait to see what happens at the end of his trip around the US (in about 3 years). I hope the folks who put this together will make a little webpage with all the pictures and stories from his journey. It will be fun to see all the people and places he's seen. I guess we'll have to wait and see. For now, I must pass on the torch. Yesterday, I packed mr. skull back in his box and sent him off to the next person. Have fun in Texas mr. skull and don't forget to write!

Raptor rescue rangers

Ever since Cman made his appearance into this world, my poor doggies have become second class citizens in their own home. They don't have the run of the house, I hardly ever play with them and due to R's strange work schedule, they don't get taken out on walks as often. On Sunday, since R was home, I decided to take the puppies for a little walk by the lake so they could get some exercise and fresh air. Candy had a great time and didn't want to go back home, but I had to take her back so I could take Lucy out. Walking with both of them is a bad idea.

When it was Lucy's turn to go out she was going crazy running everywhere and dragging me at the end of the leash. When we made it to the lake I let Lucy run some laps around me (still on the leash because she is a crazy crazy untrained dog that should not be left to run loose outside) to tire her out. As we were doing this, I noticed a little birdie standing by this huge tree. I walked over so I could get a better look fully expecting it to fly away once it saw my dog. Oddly enough, we kept getting closer and closer and the bird wasn't going anywhere. I was standing three feet from it and was in total awe of how cute it was and how amazing that it hadn't flown away considering the crazy Jack Russell at the end of my leash (Lucy hadn't noticed it yet). That's when I got a good look at it and noticed that it was some type of eagle or hawk because it had one of those scary looking beaks that can rip a finger off. It was definitely a baby though because it was not afraid of me at all! I leaned over and talked to it and told it what a beautiful little baby it was and that it should fly away because a doggy might come by and eat it. Because I was not high (or crazy) the bird didn't talk back, but it did hop away when Lucy noticed it and tried to lunge at it. The birdie raised it's wings and opened it's jaw, but still no flying. I looked around to see if the big momma was anywhere around. I had been pecked by a protective momma bird once before and I didn't intend on having it happen again, by an eagle/hawk no less.

I grabbed Lucy and headed home where I proceeded to tell R about the baby bird that we just HAD to rescue because if it stayed there, a dog was going to eat it. He called the emergency animal clinic and they told us to bring it over. We grabbed a box, grabbed the camera, put Chris in the stroller and went back to the lake. I told R to bring a towel so he could catch the bird, but he didn't listen to me as he imagined the bird to be the size of a budgie I guess. As we walked to the place where I had seen the bird, my mom's neighbor ran into us and asked us if the box was for the hawk and we said "yes...is that what it is?". The birdie had moved from his spot and another lady was standing by it taking pictures. She was glad to see us coming with a box because she too felt that the bird would definitely get injured by a dog if it stayed there. As we approached the bird, R suddenly realized why I told him to bring a towel. The bird was the size of really large pigeon or a small barn owl. After seeing the beak on this baby, R was hesitant to approach him and grab him. He and the lady tried to scoop him into the box, but the bird was hanging on to the ground for dear life. I was keeping an eye out in the sky for the momma bird, I didn't want R to lose a chunk of hair from a sharp talon or two. I also found the nest where he had fallen from and it was very high up, I'm surprised it didn't break anything on the way down. With no angry momma in sight, they managed to get the bird in the box and we left immediately to the vet clinic.

At the clinic, they confirmed that it was a hawk. They told us that they would check it out for injuries and fix it up if necessary. So we were happy to hear this and we headed back home. Chris had just experienced his first animal rescue! In the car ride, Ren asked me if I wanted to name my bird and I said "yes, let's name him Tony". Ren said..."I don't get it"...I said "Tony?...Tony Hawk?". Yes, yes, I've got a million of em folks...I'll be here all week. Thank you.


Ren called the clinic yesterday and they said that Tony [the] Hawk was fine, the only thing wrong with him was that he had mites. They reiterated that it was good that we had brought him in, otherwise, he probably would have gotten injured by another animal. They took him to a wildlife sanctuary where he will now be able to learn how to fly in peace. Yay!