Whew – That Was One Disasterous Problem Solved!

Mostly True Memoirs

Whew - that was one disasterous problem solved!

Problem Solved!

We have a new neighbor.

They have three large, territorial dogs.

Those dogs have taken strongly against Blue.

They fling themselves against the wooden fence, barking wildly.

I swear, one of these days, they’re going to break through that barrier.

Since they’re a pack and Blue is solo, guess who will lose that fight?

I discussed all of this with Bob who poo-pooed my concerns.

He told me that we don’t even own the fence, it’s on their property.

I hope that thought brings him comfort after Blue and I are slaughtered.

The time came, however, when Bob saw for himself that the wooden slats practically bubbled out into an angry dog shape.

He went right outside to shore the fence up.

I’m still not confident that it’s secure.

So I bought an ultrasonic device that emits several different terrible sounds that only dogs can hear.

It’s supposed to stop them in their tracks.

And … it worked!

They barked, I pressed the button, and I obviously couldn’t hear a thing.

But all the dogs, including Blue, jumped away from the fence.

Whew – problem solved!


Dog Lifestyle

Utilities! It’s the Ultimate Reason I Hate Snow a Whole Lot Less This Year.

Mostly True Memoirs

I hate the snow a whole lot less this year

I Hate The Snow a Whole Lot Less This Year

I hate the snow a whole lot less, I have discovered, when I have working utilities.

I didn’t mind so much chatting outdoors with the neighbors in the bone-chilling cold while my feet were getting wet because I knew I would return to my well-heated home, turn on the lights, find dry socks, throw the wet socks in the dryer, and warm myself with a hot cup of coffee.

This is in stark contrast to last year when we had a statewide power outage during a record-setting arctic-chill snowstorm.

That was awful.

We had no lights, no heat, and no water.

Today it has warmed up, and the snow has mostly melted.

Except in the shady corners of the property.

Blue has found every single shady corner.

That dog is determined to wring every last little bit of fun that she can out of the snow.

Now it’s mostly mud.

And it’s all over my floors.

I keep mopping, and she keeps tracking it in.

I have begged the family to keep the doggie door closed.

That way we can clean her up before she comes into the house.

They keep opening up the doggy door.

“It’s a beautiful day,” they say, as if that somehow justifies the mud.

Yes, it’s a beautiful day.

I would prefer to keep the beautiful day outside.



I Got Played By The Dog.

Mostly True Memoirs

I got played by the dog.

I Got Played By the Dog. Seriously? I Thought I Was Smarter Than That.

I got played by the dog.

Blue has been with us for two months.

She is settling in nicely.

Last night, at about 5:00, she did a happy dance by her bowl.

It was time for dinner.

She ate voraciously, as if she hadn’t been fed in a week.

Soon after she finished eating, Bob walked in and said, “I already fed her.”


I got played by the dog.

She manipulated Second Dinner out of me.

I sat her down and explained that she will destroy her girlish figure if she keeps this up.

She just smiled and wagged.

She has no regrets.

She’ll do it again if she gets the chance.

She won’t get the chance.

I’m on to her now.

Dog Family

Did We Learn Anything?

Mostly True Memoirs

Did we learn anything?


Wrigley was the Best Dog Ever.

She was the Best Dog Ever, but she wasn’t perfect.

She refused to play with toys.

She was very cute, and she was very snuggly, but she never once played ball.

Now we have Blue.

The Grown Son is thrilled that Blue loves to play fetch.

She is also learning to play tug-of-war with her rope toy.

At first, she would give it up easily when we tugged on it.

Now she is learning about the fun of hanging on.

Last night the Grown Son pulled a prank on Blue.

He snuck down the darkened hallway and jumped out at her.

Oh goodness, that was an ill-advised incident.

It did not end well.

Blue was so surprised that she peed herself.

The Grown Son spent the rest of the evening snuggling her to apologize.

He couldn’t stop laughing about her reaction, but he felt horrible about scaring her.

Lesson learned – Blue is not ready for pranks.

Lesson learned – The person who scares the pee out of the dog has to clean it up.

Lesson learned – Blue forgave the Grown Son and all is well.


Good Girl, Blue, Who’s My Special Girl?

Mostly True Memoirs

Good girl, Blue, good girl


We had a good rain last night.

Blue the Rescue Dog went nuts this morning.

She spent two hours sniffing every square inch of our wet back yard.

I don’t think she’s ever experienced a rainstorm before.

She was rescued from an abusive situation.

She spent her whole life in a crate.

She never went outside.

The last couple of months she lived in a loving foster home.

They treated her very well, but we didn’t get much rain this summer.

Today may have been her first post-rainstorm sniff ever.

She was a little disgruntled that I insisted on toweling her off before allowing her back in the house.

Sorry, Blue, that rule applies to everyone.

Even the humans have to clean up before coming inside.

Good girl, Blue, good girl.


We Named Her Blue

Mostly True Memoirs

We named her Blue


We named her Blue.

We had a hard time coming up with this.

I wanted to give her a flower name.

The guys nixed that idea.

I suggested Monet.

She could be an impression of a flower.

They nixed that as well.

They suggested all kinds of hooker names.

Yeah, I nixed those.

Our neighbor dog who we all love is Bear.

We thought of Bear variations.

Yogi. Boo Boo. Smokey. Ted. Paddington.

What about Baloo from The Jungle Book?

We all liked that.

But when we called out the name, it came out as Blue.

The dog responded.

And so she chose her own name.



Mostly True Memoirs



What do you think of when you hear the word “poodle?”

I immediately think of the stupid show-dog haircut.

Foo-foo, puff-balls, and bad dye jobs.

And I laugh, remembering the movie Best In Show.

But not all poodles are show dogs.

Think of the stupid-haircut-types as The Kardashians.

And the non-stupid-haircut-types as the rest of us.

We’re adopting a standard poodle.

She’ll come home to us next week.

We’re rescuing her from an abusive situation.

We’re also rescuing her from a very bad haircut.

She will look like the dogs in these pictures soon enough.

I can’t wait to bring her home.


National Dog Day

Mostly True Memoirs

National Dog Day


It’s National Dog Day.

I miss my Wrigley.

I miss her at the crack of dawn.

She always did a happy dance at breakfast time.

I miss her reigning on her throne.

It was a corner of the couch.

From that vantage point she could watch the front door.

For intruders.

And she could also watch the kitchen.

For crumbs.

She could rule over her queendom without having to actually make any effort.

It was an impressive act of laziness.

Every time anyone walked by her sofa, she expected a cuddle.

She always got it.

The standards have been set.

When I am an old lady, I want to reign just like Wrigley.


Good For The Soul

Mostly True Memoirs

Good for the soul

My mother always said that cleaning the house is good for the soul.

She was right.

Cleaning the cobwebs out of the corners also clears the cobwebs out of your head.

And your heart.

It is very good for the soul.

This week I have mopped floors, cleaned rugs, organized cabinets and done a lot of yard work.

Losing my dog still hurts.

Staying busy has helped.

I’m on a waiting list at several rescue facilities.

We’ll have a new pup soon enough.

The Grown Sons have assured me that the new dog will only be second best.

No dog could ever live up to Wrigley’s standards.

They say that now.

Soon enough, the new dog will be the Best Dog Ever.

In its own way.

Dog Family

Good Girl, Wrigley

Mostly True Memoirs

Good girl, Wrigley



August 3, 2005 – August 3, 2021.

Well, we aren’t really sure about her birthdate.

We rescued her on August 3, 2006, and she was about a year old, so we assigned her the birthdate.

The boys were little, and birthdays were important.

Wrigley has been with us for 15 years.

She has seen us through a lot of hard times.

She comforted both of our mothers during their final illnesses.

And she consoled the family after each loss.

She saw the boys through their teen years.

And she helped each of the boys, in turn, adjust to their T1 diabetes diagnosis.

She was the anchor in our family, and now she is gone.

The house feels adrift and bleak without her in it.

We rescued her, but I think that she really rescued us.

Good girl, Wrigley, good girl.