Weight for it.

If you know me well, one of my favorite expressions lately has been "Wait for it." Not sure how this began, but I say it often, usually as an introduction to me forgetting what I was to say or do. Here's an example - I'm at work, and in the middle of explaining a professional development plan,  I'll suddenly announce - "Wait for it," followed by a few seconds of silence. Then, I'll continue with my train of thought. After you teach middle school, there's no use in trying to speak in complete sentences because most of those lovelies tune you out after the third word.

Mae's new expression - Weight for it. Bless her, she gets it from her mama. We've struggled with weight (Mae and me) for a little while now. Mae was a 5 pounder that was supposed to be a 25 pounder. Clearly, at 65 pounds, several someones were undeniably wrong. She did lose a few pounds since July, according to our lovely vet, but remember all those "puke parties" we had in the kitchen? yea, I think that helped some. So, for now, she's just happy being full figured. Her mother is not. My cute spring wardrobe fits much tighter this year, and upon my last doctor check up, a substantial 9 pounds has found a new home on me somewhere. Take a look at the photo above to see a common routine we share. Don't you worry, I'm on it. Mae is too.

Wait for it.

March Madness

I love March. Such a unique month - it's my signal that spring has arrived (and my allergies' signal to act a fool). March is full of time and temperature changes, blooms, basketball, Mardi Gras this year (see Mae's celebratory necklace - thank you Sarah Siebert)... and thunderstorms. Recently, we had terrible thunderstorms, three nights in a row. Sweet little Mae shakes, rattles, and rolls with every clap of thunder and spark of lightening. She senses them before they even arrive, hence her new obsession with my bathroom. (Someone clearly taught her about safety spots for dangerous weather.) 

Besides the storms, Miss Mae has been relatively healthy and happy (keep your fingers crossed!) She is really getting gutsy - she sleeps blocked off in the kitchen (I use a "makeshift house" technique - anything from cardboard to a fold up table to keep her confined). One morning, I awoke to find that she had broken out of "jail" during the night and made herself comfortable on the chaise lounge - a clearly defined No Mae Zone.

A diva in the making, for sure.

Happy Sunny Days (and no thunderstorms!) to you! :)

Bath Day! and a little cruise down I-55.

Traditionally, Mae is excited about only one of the items listed in this post's title - the cruise down I-55. Frankly, sister gets excited about a cruise anywhere - she loves the car! I guess it is a good thing she started her "travels" at an early age because she does so well - we've yet to have a potty foul. She especially loves it when she knows she is headed to see her Gramps and Grandy (aka her grandparents) - honest to goodness, she knows when we are going and her sheer excitement is too funny. She runs in circles while I'm loading the car, jumps into the passenger side with wild abandon, usually 20 minutes before it is time to leave - can't leave the door open for a second or she takes full advantage, and doesn't move for 160 miles. (Scratch - she starts the journey alert, yet ends the journey cuddled up in her bed. Lucky.) Why wouldn't she love going there, since there are extra "snacks" and two extra people to love and dote on her? Smart dog is an understatement.

Her early travels...

Now, let's talk about the other item in this post's title that Mae is not such a fan of - bath day. All kidding aside, she loves going to PetsMart to be groomed, but is scared of her shadow when I'm in control of the hose and oatmeal shampoo. Honestly, she's prissy, but would sacrifice a lot of things to keep from having me bathe her. The expression on her face below says it all.

Happy Bathing and Safe Travels to you this week! :)

A Little Game of Did You Know

Kringles Clementine Mae... did you know that this precious pup had such a long name? Well, it might help if you knew the story about how Miss Mae joined my family. While visiting the local coffee house, a precious 7-year-old-gal named Clementine sat on a bench outside on a hot summer day. And, of course she was holding an adorable white, frail angel. (This doesn't happen often. Actually, I've yet to see another darling child hold a darling dog around our quaint town.) A precious child and pup = too much for this sucker to resist. So, of course, I stopped to talk.. and low and behold, Clementine was "foster parenting" this precious pup. Her goal was to find Kringles (the dog's name given by the pound) a home before she went back to 2nd grade. Cue the fairy tale, love-at-first-sight music. Within a week, Kringles lived with me - yes, me.. the girl who's never owned a dog, who really knows nothing about dogs. (Frankly, I was the girl who made fun of folks with dogs, thought they were obsessive and clueless for allowing an animal with four legs to dictate their schedule and life.)

The name Kringles just didn't fit. This dog is way too cute to be a Kringles. Insert name of 7-year-old-foster parent, Clementine. This name stuck for about a day, but after Clementine's play date with her namesake, this name didn't fit, either. Clementine, the girl, was wild and boisterous. Clementine, the dog, was calm and endearing.

Clementine is quite a mouthful to yell at a dog when she's making a yellow or brown memory on the rug or floor. Mae. A perfect, one-syllable, dainty dog's name. My great-grandmother was Lillie Mae, and I just liked the ring of it.

 *Told you she was frail. A mere 5 pounds when I claimed her. We will talk about her current weight later.

Just a little background about the dog that never ceases to amaze me. Now you know why I think she's special. People say I saved her.. but really, she saved me, too. (Saved me metaphorically, not saved me financially. That's a whole 'nother post.)

Miss Mae Monday

So, after a two and a half hour vet visit on Monday, I decided that Miss Mae, my precious pound pup, needs a blog. Or, maybe I need the blog to chronicle our crazy life. We are fun chicks, I'm here to tell you, but we have more stories than we know what to do with. So.. here's to blogging! Maybe, just maybe, you'll get a laugh or two and I'll gain back a little sanity by writing about our adventures.

Monday arrives, and I knew a vet visit was in order. Mae has decided to have "vomit parties" in the kitchen on several occasions now, most recently Saturday morning where she really threw down.. or up.. you get the idea. So, off we go to our third most visited spot (first being PetsMart and second being Chick-fil-a) - Dr. Heaton's office. They know us there. Very well. As a matter of fact, when I called to make her appointment, the receptionist's response was "What's the matter this time?" Now... I might be a tad overprotective and, for lack of better terms, a worry-wort, but we've done well for a couple of months. Sure.. we (meaning Mae) had this random allergy to grass and an interesting case of ringworm, oh and we (again, meaning Mae) take phenobarbital every 12 hours for seizures, but we have been on the up and up. So, off we go to the vet, and Mae is excited. She loves to ride, loves to be the center of attention, and loves treats from strangers. After 3 different tests and 120 fun-filled minutes of waiting, Mae has now been diagnosed with pancreatitis,  aka an infection of the pancreas. We must take meds for a while and change our diet, which was not news to her. We've (meaning Mae and myself) been exceeding our "goal weight" for months now. (There went the 2nd favorite spot to visit.) Thank goodness we've figured it out - this diagnosis seems a lot more accurate than the "kennel cough" diagnosis we received two weeks ago. Irony - sister has never stepped foot in a kennel, much less been exposed to dogs who would have this illness. Irony. One of my favorite parts of this life we lead. Who knew that I'd ever have a dog? Who knew that I'd have a dog with a multitude of health problems? Who knew that I'd be so happy with a "terrier mix" who's overweight and needy? Irony, indeed.

Mae's cure for pancreatitis - a nice nap with a pillow on the sofa.
My cure for our latest diagnosis - a blog. Go figure.