Four

Oh, Indy. Dear, sweet Indy. Today you are four. Despite all my best intentions, your life has changed a lot since Nico came into it. Daily walks are a thing of the past and your training has somewhat fallen by the wayside. I never resented you or found you grating on my nerves like some people warned me I would after adding a baby, but over Nico's first year I admit I just didn't have a lot of space left at the end of the day for you, attention-wise or emotion-wise. I never stopped loving you, but you definitely slipped into my periphery a little bit. Now that Nico is nearly two and caring for him is becoming less all-consuming, I find that I am appreciating you all over again.

I appreciate your steadfastness, your calm, your huge heart. I appreciate that after two years of mostly letting you be, you'll still sit when told and stay when asked. Maybe you do beg at the table more than I'd prefer now that there's a steady source of fallen Goldfish crackers and bits of pasta, but you don't try to steal food from Nico's hands or tray. We try to make sure you have your own space and safe places to lie down, but when Nico does manage to get his hands on you, you've been admirably patient. Usually you just look up at me with big long-suffering eyes as he enthusiastically pats you on the back or grabs your tail. Even the day he clocked you square in the nose with a truck in his excitement to say hello, you just yelped and looked up at me as if to say A little help, here?

In a perfect life, we'd reinstate those daily walks and weekly training sessions, but in reality, we have a toddler. Things are not going to get any less hectic. I promise, though, to take you out when I can, to take the time to give you a scratch on the head, to appreciate your steady and undemanding company. You'll always be the dog who turned me into a dog person, the dog of my heart. Thank you for being you, and happy birthday. Here's to many, many more.

Mirror

I've always been prone to what can best be referred to as the Church Giggles - when you start giggling at an inappropriate time, and then you can't stop because it's so inappropriate. Also, the annoying pre-laughing at the punchline giggles, where sometimes I'm trying to tell a joke and I start giggling uncontrollably so that by the time I get to the end, I can barely speak (annoying!). Tonight while I was singing Nico's bedtime songs, Indy wandered past the open doorway, and it reminded me of an incident earlier in the evening.

Nico and I had walked over to the playground down the block for a bit, and left Indy in the yard while we were gone. When we got back, Indy was so thrilled to see us that he started leaping around and, before I could stop him, jumped up to pinball off of Nico. Except Indy weighs 55 pounds and Nico weighs 27 pounds, so he pretty much utterly bulldozed Nico. Nico went down in the grass, Indy bounded off with me shouting "No!" after him, and then Nico - bless his heart - got up laughing and chased Indy down the sidewalk. And I know it's not really funny, I should be thinking Oh, what a close call! and wringing my hands or something...but, dude. I thought about Indy wiping Nico out and because he didn't get hurt, it was funny, in that horrible-but-funny way that videos of little kids getting wiped out by animals are always funny, where you laugh and you think I shouldn't laugh because he could've been hurt, but I can't stop laughing.

So when I saw Indy walk by the door, the comedic qualities of the moment in the yard hit me, and I had a brief Church Giggle fit. I think I would've made it through, but Nico saw me struggling not to grin, and he started grinning at me. That set me off again, and then he started giggling, and we ended up in this Church Giggle Feedback Loop. It started with me probably being a bit of an asshole mom, laughing at my poor toddler getting flattened by his own dog, but it morphed into this incredibly sweet moment. At rest and in his frequent moments of serious consideration Nico looks just like his father, but in motion, his expressive face is a mirror of mine. His crinkled eyes, his wide grin, the dimple in his cheek -- seeing it reflected back at me along with his infectious toddler giggles was pretty great. I thought to myself, "This right here, this is reason enough to have a kid."

(so far unscathed by his insensitive mother)

Reading:  Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

Playing:  The King is Dead by the Decemberists

Double standard

Indy has a recent habit of going out to the yard and then refusing to come back into the house. He'll come to the door and bang on it with his paws, but when someone goes to let him in, he darts off. Sometimes he does this over and over, until MB corners and leashes him. Earlier tonight, we were getting ready to go drop Nico off with my parents and head to game night at the bibliophile's house. Nico did an epic poo right about the time that Indy started his ding-dong-dash routine, and MB would only agree to take care of the poo if I tried to get the dog inside.

I decided to see if I could lure him in with little bits of cheese, since I wasn't in the mood to chase him around the yard. MB returned halfway through the process with a de-stinked baby.

MB:  What are you doing?

VBG:  I'm trying to show him that good things happen to him when he comes to the door.

MB:  You shouldn't bribe him.

VBG:  It's not a bribe...it's positive conditioning.

MB:  It's totally a bribe. We shouldn't bribe him. It'll make him stay out longer next time. Here, let me do it.

So I took Nico and wandered off while MB headed to the back door. He called Indy, Indy didn't come in.

MB:  Hey, go knock on the front door.

I went and knocked on the front door.

MB:  Do it again!

I knocked again.

MB:  Hey, Indy! Who is it?

Indy darted in and trotted over to the front door, tail wagging.

MB:  Good boy!

VBG:  Hold up a minute. I can't bribe him but it's okay to trick him? What's up with that?

MB:  It's totally different.



Reading:  Elantris by Brandon Sanderson

Playing:  a booty-shaking mix that Evilducky made for me

Twinkle toes

Poor Indy, I barely write about him these days. I had hoped his standard of living wouldn't suffer too much after we brought the baby home, but some demotion was inevitable. I truly had the best intentions to continue with his daily walks after Nico was born, but then I had a C-section, and then the winter hung on and hung on, and then I started working 7 AM to 5 PM, and then we had a brutal sweltering summer. Things just haven't worked out in our favor. With luck, my sister will soon start coming over a few days a week to walk him, and surely the weather has to break soon. (right?)

There aren't really any cutesy baby and dog stories or photos to share yet, either. Indy did better with Nico when he was tiny. The bigger and louder he got, the more anxious Indy got, to the point where he would shake when Nico cried. And then Nico started army crawling and Indy nearly lost his shit. He was scared to death, and I suppose the baby did have this freaky lurchy inexorable zombie thing going on for a while. We've been vigilant about never leaving them together and about never letting the baby down to play on the floor without removing Indy from the area or at least sequestering him via baby gate or other form of blockade.

For his part, Indy does seem to be relaxing. He no longer shakes when the baby cries, though he does serve as a mobile baby monitor. If Nico starts to fuss while I'm in the shower at night, Indy materializes in the bathroom, nose inches from the shower door as he stares at me, willing me to get out and make the kid shut up. He'll stay even after MB has fetched Nico from his crib. Once I get out of the shower, he's inches from my knee the whole time I'm toweling off and brushing my teeth, unless I shoo him out of the room until I'm done. When we play with Nico in his bedroom, Indy will hang out in the hallway on the other side of the gate, sighing mournfully every now and then to remind us he's out there. We're taking it slow, giving them space, and hopefully in the long run it will pay off. Only time will tell.

In the meantime, poor ol' Indy has one more unpleasant surprise in store. Tomorrow, we're taking him to the vet to have his dewclaws removed. He was born with double dewclaws on his hind feet, which everyone tells us is extremely rare. The dogs that are born with dewclaws at all usually have them snipped when they're three days old, but Indy still had his when we adopted him around four months of age. At the time, the rescue group told us the shelter vet had told them it was best just to leave them alone, so that has been our method as well. But the older he gets, the less tolerant Indy is of having the dewclaws trimmed, and the longer they get, the more danger there is of them getting caught in his collar when he scratches. He's already had one incident where the outer dewclaw nail got caught in his collar while we were at the pet store with him, and we couldn't free him before the nail was broken. It's finally come to the point where he'll probably need tranquilizers each time we need to trim his dewclaws and we worry that he'll get hurt every time he goes over to play with my parents' dogs.

We talked to the vet, and we decided that having the toes removed entirely is what's best for Indy in the long run. I won't lie, though, I'm pretty bummed about it. I've always loved his extra toes. I know he'll still be special without them, but I do feel bad, like we're taking away his winged sandals or something. Ridiculous, yeah, but I never claimed to be sensible when it comes to the dog.

Dude, don't look so crushed!
Much better, thank you.

More cowbell!

One of the most difficult consequences of a c-section - at least for me - is the weight restriction. Upon checking out of the hospital, I was firmly told that I wasn't to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds, including the carseat carrier with Nico in it, for six weeks. At first the most annoying thing about the restriction was having to ask for help with the laundry. Even after I felt fit enough to risk a few extra trips up and down stairs, I had to get someone else to carry the baskets of clothes to the basement for me.

Of course, the restriction also means I can't go out with Nico unless another person is present to carry his seat. MB has been great about taking us out on errands once or twice a week, but not being able to run out and pick up a gallon of milk or a library book without complex strategizing has been an adjustment. I suppose I could carry Nico's empty seat out to the car, then carry Nico out separately, but that just seems like a lot of work when I don't really have anywhere pressing to be most of the time. Plus, upon arriving at my destination, getting the stroller in and out of the car would definitely break the ten-pound rule. I'm very lucky to have parents who live nearby and are happy to help. Dad has driven over several times to pick up Indy for playdates with their dogs, and Mom is going with us to a babywearing class on Thursday and my six-week followup appointment with my OBGYN on Friday. And at that appointment, I'm hoping the doctor will lift the weight restriction so that all of this finagling is behind us.

The first week or two after Nico was born, I was too sore to be interested in going out much. Besides, he was eating every hour and a half, so we didn't really have much time. Once I started feeling better, the weather turned snowy and inhospitably cold, so that kept me from wanting to go out for another week or two. Lately, though, the cabin fever has started to set in, in a big way. Last Monday, my work friend Julia sprang us for lunch, which was awesome since I love Christopher Walken as much as the next girl, but I need a lot more than cowbell for this fever. Then yesterday my friend S came by and met us for another lunch out. Woohoo! Of course, each time I had my lunch date carry Nico out in his carseat. S and I went out the back door, and I guess it was the first time Indy had seen anyone other than MB carrying Nico in his seat. He was absolutely beside himself. Usually once he knows I'm leaving, he'll wait at the top of the back steps and watch me go. But when S stepped out the back door with Nico, Indy darted past me and placed himself in front of her on the sidewalk. He hovered there, shifting from foot to foot, whining and looking from me to the carseat, me to the carseat, like, Dude. Are you just going to let her walk away? ALERT, ALERT, SHE IS TAKING THE BABY! I finally convinced him to go back inside so we could leave, but I tell you what. You have NEVER seen a dog as relieved as Indy was when we came back from lunch and S returned Nico. He was all, Oh, thank God. I won't have to tell MB that I lost the kid. My house dog privileges won't be revoked!

Resistance is futile

I didn't sleep so well last night, suffering from a long and involved dream about labor in which I actually felt like I was having contractions. One would think, "AHA! And then you woke up and you were having contractions!" And one would be overly optimistic because no, I just woke up tired and out-of-sorts. I went back to sleep on the couch for about an hour after MB left for work, which helped a lot, and then I spent quite a long time poking around on the internet. At some point near lunch time, I realized it had started to snow in the most perfect way -- with big fat fluffy flakes tumbling almost a little too slowly through the air. I made a sandwich and opened the dining room curtains so I could watch the snow while I ate.


Once I got done eating, this is the face the dog kept giving me:


He really, really wanted to go for a walk. I checked the weather, and it was a near-balmy 28 degrees outside, so I figured what the hell. I got dressed in my super sexy dog walking outfit -- maternity layering tank top tucked into the worst ever pair of frumpy maternity jeans that I only wear to walk the dog because they make my ass look so awful, giant yoga T-shirt over that, then the only hoodie that I can still zip, followed by a huge red coat that doesn't actually fasten anymore. I guess the baby has really dropped in the last week or so, because when I go walking I can't take my usual long-leggedy strides due to all the bones in my...erm...baby-having area being sort of pissed off and creaky right now.

But Indy and I made do, me shuffling along with these ridiculous penguin steps, him stopping to sniff every dog, cat, and rabbit track we passed in the fresh snow. We must've been a bit of a spectacle, my giant belly sticking out from my red coat, Indy's black fur sleek against the white backdrop, his perpetually question-mark-shaped tail poking up into the chilly air. And wouldn't you know, that walk in the snow cleared up the last of my lingering malaise from the weird dreams and the poor sleeping. I was a bit tired when we got back, but so refreshed. Dogs are pretty wise after all, I guess.


Once we got home, I took the new camera out to take a few winter pictures. Obviously I still need more practice, but I'm pretty excited about what this thing will be able to do once I'm a bit more used to it.

Two

It seems impossible to me that Indy has only been with us for just over a year and a half, but the calendar does not lie. It has been a good year, simultaneously long and passing by with impossible speed. At the end of January, the city got hit with a huge snow and ice storm. Indy had seen snow before, but not like this. We had quite a bit of fun playing in the backyard and walking along the nearby boulevard, and really it was a grand adventure until our power went out and we ended up taking Indy and staying with my parents for over a week. That turned out to be an okay little adventure, too. I got a lot of reading done and Indy had playtime every day with my parents' dog Maggie.



Early in the year, Indy became a totally free-range dog. We started by letting him remain out of his crate in our bedroom at night, with a pet gate at the top of the stairs to keep him from roaming too far without supervision. That went so well that he was quickly allowed to stay uncrated during the days while we worked, too, and we've never had to go back. I think crate-training him as a puppy was one of the best decisions we could have made, and feel that it allowed him to learn good house-habits from an early age. Of course, we can't take full credit since he was nearly fully crate-trained and housebroken when we brought him home, but still.



In April we passed our first anniversary of adopting him, which happened to coincide with a really great hike we took to celebrate my birthday. That hike turned out to be our big adventure for 2009, since we never got the chance to camp at MB's friend's property this year. We planned to take Indy on our group camping trip in October, but changed our minds when the weekend turned rainy. Perhaps we'll have another Indy-friendly camping trip in 2010...I certainly hope so!



In May I took a pregnancy test and got a positive result, which shaped our whole year. We stayed home more, didn't travel at all, and generally took it easier than usual. Indy still got his almost-daily walks, though, and I think the responsibility of walking him kept me more active than I would have been otherwise, which in turn probably helped make my pregnancy so easy. So far it doesn't seem that Indy is really aware of what's going on, though he has watched our baby preparations with great interest. In fact, Indy has proven to be a diligent supervisor of all kinds of household tasks.

He supervises landscaping projects:


He oversees gardening projects:



He presides over baking, dish washing, wallpaper removal, painting, and even yard sale preparation:



Most of his puppy sass has passed, though he still definitely has strong opinions about things. He's not a perfect dog, but he is often a dog I am proud to be seen with, a dog I am happy to introduce as mine. People are still impressed by his repertoire of tricks and occasionally people we see on our morning walk will compliment his behavior. He still likes to play a lot, though he has also proven to be a champion napper. I came across a quote somewhere that said "Dogs sleep so much because they love so hard," and Indy sure fits the bill:





In 2009, Indy went from being the youngest "child" of two to being the only one, and will soon be the oldest of two. We may look back on this year as a time of peace between things, as 2008 was the year of Baby Indy, and 2010 will be the year of baby + Indy. I am hoping, of course, for an easy transition and that MB and I will both remember to do our best to make sure Indy still gets the attention and activity that he needs. We knew we wanted kids in the near future when we adopted Indy, and we discussed the importance of keeping his routine as intact as possible. It won't be easy, but he deserves our best effort and that's what we're planning to give.



We are so lucky to have a dog so full of joy and goodness, and I'm grateful every day that he's in our lives.


Indy Bones, this month you turned two. It was a fantastic year, hopefully one of many, many, many more to come. Sometimes you can be immensely frustrating, but mostly you're just wonderful. Our mornings are more cheerful with you in them, and nothing, nothing at all, beats your butt-wagging paw-prancing greeting at the end of the work day. Your daily welcome-home scratch-and-snuggle with MB makes my heart grow three sizes every time I see it. The fact that you're still surprised each time mail comes flying in through the slot in the door makes me laugh. I love how you'll pounce on toys like a large and somewhat clumsy cat, even though half the time you lose them under the furniture soon after the initial pounce. It's hilarious how quickly you materialize in the kitchen when I open a can of tuna, and how precisely and perfectly you sit at attention trying to earn a bit of it to eat. It's vastly amusing that you share MB's undying love for cheesecake, and that you're learning the proper way to earn bits of that, too.

Thanks for being you, and for putting up with us even when we give you silly nicknames and serenade you with ridiculous songs. Thanks for teaching us how to see the world simply and how to love a little bit harder. And thanks for just generally being the kind of dog we always hoped for but never thought we'd be lucky enough to get. We love you, buddy.

You're a handsome devil...what's your name?

Nerd, nerd ago in a galaxy far, far away

Backstory: For some reason, MB tends to call Indy "Snoop" or "Snoop-a-loop," taken from Will Ferrell in Old School.

VBG: [singing, to the tune of the Imperial March] Snoop snoop snoop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop. Snoop snoop snoop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop. Snoop! A loop, loop-a-loopimus, a loop-loop-a-loopimus, a loop, snoop-a-loop snoop-a-loop!

MB: He's Qui Gon Indy.

VBG: But he's black, like Darth Vader.

MB: He's Mace Indu!



And then, later, my 50-pound dog climbed up on the back of the couch like a damn housecat:

Monday night at my house

MB:  We've got it pretty good here, I guess.

VBG:  Yeah. We've got each other. We've got a kickass dog. And the cat hasn't eaten anyone in months!

MB:  Yeah. I imagine when some people first get on Facebook, they see where some of their old friends have ended up and they have regrets. I don't have regrets.

VBG:  I'm glad you don't have regrets.

MB:  Nope, I've got it pretty good.

VBG:  Cuz you've got me, baby!

MB:  Well, I was thinking of Indy Bones. But sure!




Reading:  Twinkie, Deconstructed by Steve Ettlinger

Playing:  the (500) Days of Summer soundtrack, streaming here. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. It's easily the best movie I've seen this year, and possibly in the last several years.

It's a BBPP! *

My parents' puppy had to have one of his front legs amputated this week. He developed a limp in his right front leg which was not caused by a sprain, as was first suspected. While Mom was trying to encourage him to rest so that his ankle could heal, she noticed that his right front paw was quite a bit smaller than his left front paw -- to the point where if he was a person, he'd be wearing two different shoe sizes. The anti-inflammatory meds didn't reduce the limp, and so Mom took him back to the vet for X-rays. All six doctors in the office looked at the X-ray and couldn't make sense of it, so they emailed it to a specialist, who diagnosed him with a damaged growth plate in the limpy leg.

Because his lower leg bone hadn't grown right, it was short and curved and was rubbing against the long upper leg bone. The vet told Mom that her two options were to break and reset the short bone with a gap, hoping it would fill in as it healed and become long enough, or to take a piece out of the longer bone so that the two didn't rub together. With the second option, he'd always have a limp and would probably develop arthritis in his elbow. With either option, he'd have to be on restricted activity for up to eight weeks. I know several people with dogs who have had knee surgery and been on restricted activity for eight weeks, but all of those dogs were full-grown (instead of hyperactive 6-month-olds) and only pets (instead of sharing a home with a cat and another hyperactive dog).

Mom was worried that the only way she'd be able to keep Taran quiet would be to keep him crated most of the time and possibly sedated. She was afraid that he'd end up psychologically damaged from being locked away from his packmates for so long, and the surgeries weren't even guaranteed to work. So she decided to ask the vet if amputation would be a better option. Since Taran was more or less already operating on three legs because his limp was so bad, the vet agreed that he'd likely make a quick adjustment and a complete recovery. In fact, his stitches would come out after 10 days (which sounds crazy to me).

Taran went in for his surgery on Tuesday morning and walked out of the vet on his leash the next evening. Once he got home, he was right back to climbing up and down from the couch and bed, chewing on Maggie (the other dog, a Border Collie mix and Indy's BFF), and even taking the damn stairs. Have you ever heard of such a champ? But he does need to get some rest, and so Maggie was getting bored. Mom called to see if Mags could come over today and run around our backyard for a few hours with Indy, and of course we said yes.








And the aftermath of four hours of Maggie time, a trip to the pet store, and a hot dog at Sonic:



* Big Black Pooch Party

August and everything after

I never meant to slip into such a sporadic posting routine, but such things happen. In part I blame the baby, since I used to do most of my blogging after 10 PM, and now I'm usually in bed by then. Also, even thought I don't think I'm too baby-obsessed, I always promised myself I wouldn't turn the blog into the All Baby All the Time channel as soon as I got knocked up. Therefore, on days when I'm solely thinking about all things infant, I feel like I should spare you guys the schmoop and not post anything. (If you're wishing for more schmoop in this space, please let me know. I'm sure I can oblige.)

In the meantime, I caved to MB's wishes and we got the house painted. And he was right, it looks hinty quadrillion times better now:

before, with charmingly bare shutters
after power-washing, looking thoroughly disreputable
Shiny!

I've been trying to enjoy the company of this guy, who -- for the first time in forever -- acted solidly goofy about me changing the sheets the other day:




Other things I have done in the past month or so include having some really good times with my really great friends, seeing the Harry Potter movie twice, going on a wildflower hike, and taking a class about Monarch butterflies.


And yesterday, I took Indy to Petsmart to get a few things, and the rescue group that saved him from the shelter was there. I went over to say hello and got to reintroduce Indy to the same woman who signed him over to us the day we adopted him. Indy was very obliging and showed off a few tricks and the rescue ladies exclaimed over his performance and his shiny coat. I thanked them for saving him, and they thanked me for giving him a good home. I should've thanked Indy for being such an awesome dog, but I suppose I did that by buying him a bag of chewbones and two new toys. Sometimes I look at him and my heart leaps in my chest, and I'm overcome with how much I love this goofy, handsome, flop-eared dog.