It Feels Like Christmas

I wrote an entire blog - and deleted it.  I didn't want to offend anyone or come off too selfish.

26 hours (and counting) until Christmas.

I have never spent a Christmas Eve or Day (24 years) without my grandma - this will be the first.

The Muppet Christmas Carol is still my favorite movie.  (Even when family members talk throughout the entire thing.)

I grasp bits and pieces of that Christmas spirit here and there, but it just doesn't seem to want to stay with me this year.

Smile on the best of days - and the worst.

"It's in the singing of the street corner choir
It's going home and getting warm by the fire
It's true wherever you find love
It feels like Christmas

It is the season of the spirit,
The message if you hear it
Is make it last all year

It feels like Christmas"

Thanksgiving Safety

I have grown up with dogs my entire life, I can only remember a couple of times that I lived without a dog and they included my life in college.  So I have quite a bit of experience with what dogs can and cannot eat. It's amazing to me that there are people out there who do not know that chocolate is poisonous to a dog! You also need to be very careful with thin bones such as chicken bones, and this time of year, turkey bones.  Bones can be fatal to a dog if swallowed as they are not digestible and can puncture the stomach.

In doing research about Dalmatians, I discovered that most are literal chow-hounds, and Aries is no exception.  I have not found a single food item she will not eat.  This includes an entire salad, raw potatoes, fish, fruits, and onions, just to name a few.  With that being said I have to be very careful as to what I offer her and pay attention to what she is stealing off of counters. 

This Thanksgiving, if you are unsure if what you're feeding your dog is going to be harmful to them, do not feed it to them! It's better to be safe than sorry. 

A few things to watch out for:

Nuts of any kind - they are hard to digest
Turkey - only a few bites, it's hard on the digestion system
Cooked onions - can be fatal to some dogs
Turkey bones - these can, and most likely will be, fatal
CHOCOLATE - this can be instantly fatal

Just please use common sense and feed in small portions and moderation.

Thanksgiving is a Dalmatians favorite holiday!

Uhmmm

Uhmmm I dont understand why I can leave a comment as an annonymous person, but others cant leave comments when they're logged in.  I mean, its not the worst thing in the world because no one probably wants to leave comments, and even if they do, they're probably not very nice.

Uhmmm so today, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before going to bed I'm going to make a list of things I'm grateful for.  I will have no required number or anything like that just a fun gratitude list.  I'll post it here on Thanksgiving or the day after.  I know a lot of my friends are doing the post a thing their grateful for everyday on facebook, and I like that idea but it seems almost counterproductive to me.

Uhmm yeah so until then.

Have I ever mentioned Dalmatians like to bark? Because they do. 
A.
Lot.
Non.
Stop.

Or maybe it's just mine.

"It's the Twilight Bark, Pongo." 101 Dalmatians

Thanksgiving

I love Halloween.  The costumes, the fun, the candy, etc etc etc.  For Halloween we had an AWESOME Halloween party which I NEED to get the pictures off my phone and get  posted.

I love Christmas.  The decorations, the fun, the giving, the family, the spirit, etc etc etc. I can't wait for Christmas and since this year I dont have a ton of money Im attempting at making all my gifts/spending less than $10 on each present.  (Can it be done?! I doubt it) Also Christmas....

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, hold your horses.

Thanksgiving? Is that in there somewhere? According to every store I've been in lately and all of the commercials on television, Thanksgiving has been skipped once again.

I love Thanksgiving.  The family, the cooking, the fun, the FOOD, etc etc etc and hate when it's just skipped over. I REFUSE to watch any Christmas movies before and after Halloween, and before Thanksgiving (I have been known to watch a few Christmas movies in July). It feels that this important holiday is just completely skipped over.

I love Christmas decorations and music as much, if not more, as the next person but I just can't stand it too early.  Right now I cringe when a Christmas commercial comes on and I often change the channel or hit the mute button.  But after Thanksgiving I want EVERY commercial to be a Christmas commercial, and every store to play Christmas music and every house on the block to have lights up. 

Just.
Not.
Yet.

Thanksgiving is one week away... and I cant wait.

My random rant is now over.

"But mother, I'm still hungry.  I'm really, really hungry."  -Rolly 101 Dalmatians

PS Though Thanksgiving is a Dalmatian's FAVORITE holiday (for obvious reasons) all dogs should be carefully watched and monitored around all of the Thanksgiving food.  A lot of food is bad, and even posionous to dogs, so please be careful.   Turkey is also hard for some breeds to digest so please feed in very small portions and carefully monitor your dogs Thanksgiving feast :)

A Farewell

About a month ago, my Grandma Wolfe passed away and life has really been a big blur since then.  Between the loss and moving and job stresses I have all sorts of extra time and absolutely no confidence in anything. But, anyway, I wrote a blog in rememberance of my grandma that I wanted to post here.  I was then asked to speak at her funeral so I decided to use my blog post as my little rememberance time.  It was a beautiful funeral and many of her friends and coworkers came and just supported us.  It was amazing how many lives she touched and it was wonderful to hear the different stories. 

Here's what I wrote (and spoke):

I was my grandma’s first, and for quite a few years, her only, granddaughter and to say I was spoiled would be an understatement.  I loved spending every holiday going up to Prescott with my family to visit grandma.  It always had the promise of a breakfast at the Juniper House or Zekes, where upon entering the restaurant everyone would know her name and a pitcher of ice tea would amazingly appear 30 seconds within sitting down at the table.  I couldn’t go anywhere in town with grandma without someone knowing her and stopping us to say hello.

I would have the best stories to tell my friends when I got back home.  It was a known fact around the playground, I had the coolest grandma.  When I was really young she was the neatest because her last name was Wolfe and she had a big German Shepherd that was, you know, almost like a wolf to a six year old.   Then as I got older and understood more about jobs and careers she became the coolest once again, because she worked at a casino.  As a ten year old I had very little to no knowledge of what a casino actually was except what she would tell me and then what I would come to see on television.  It didn’t seem fair that being the youngest of four, I would be the last one to see where my grandma spent most of her time.  But then, it finally happened.  I turned 21 and at last would be able to go inside those dark glass doors I had only been able to previously drive by.  One afternoon, a few weeks after turning 21, I confidently walked up to the doors, pulled them open, and stepped inside.  It wasn’t the huge magical space I was expecting it to be.  It was crowded, smoky, noisy, and a big security guard looked me over questioning my age.  There weren’t people jumping up and down shouting out, “I won!”  After taking in the room, I turned to my left and approached the Gold Rush Club desk where my grandma was already sitting. Seeing her face as I moved toward the desk was when I realized the real magic of my grandma working at a casino.  It wasn’t the flashing lights or the excitement of winning, but after 21 years, I was finally allowed into my grandma’s second home, a place where she would spend 45+ hours a week and every holiday, with the people that were truly her extended family.     

About a month ago I had the privilege of taking my grandma to several appointments she had for the afternoon.  It would turn out to be the last time the two of us would go out together.  She had recently been released from the hospital and she couldn’t wait to go back to work.  I asked her “Grandma, don’t you want to stay home a few more days? Build your strength up?” She told me, “You know, Hilary, I am plenty strong enough; I just have to get this old body to catch up with me.”  Nothing, even her own body, would slow her down.

Emily Dickinson wrote this poem which I know is the way my grandma left this life:

Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
And Immortality.

We slowly drove--He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility--

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess--in the Ring--
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain--
We passed the Setting Sun--

Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—

I am so blessed for years spent in high school when I was able to live with my grandma and really get to know what a wonderful, kind, caring, and generous person she was.  The memories of me, my grandma and my mom working together on puzzles, Taco Tuesdays, Diamondback games, Big Joe Polka, wrapping presents, bird watching, and just being together are ones I will cherish forever.  I will miss my grandma every day.  But as my Uncle Greg has said, “Although cancer eventually took her life, I know her spirit will always be with everyone whose lives she touched”.   

 I love you grandma.

The Loss of a Friend

Recently, a good friend's 12 year old dog passed away, this post is for her.


Everyone who has ever owned, and lost, a pet knows the horrible feeling it can bring.  It is hard to not dwell on the fact that the beloved member of the family is gone, and their life however long it was, should be appreciated and grieved appropriately.  But it is just as important to remember the good times, the fun, the laughter, the support, the protection, and the happiness that your pet brought to you and your family. 

Eugene O'Neill, a famous playwright, knew this all too well and when his beloved Dalmatian passed away in the 1940s, he wrote a will for his dog. I don't think that it can be said much better than the Dalmatian, Blemie, wrote. 

I, SILVERDENE EMBLEM O'NEILL (familiarly known to my family, friends, and acquaintances as Blemie), because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me. I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me, to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most, to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie and Naomi and -- But if I should list all those who have loved me, it would force my Master to write a book. Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog. I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick, bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having over-lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I would like to believe with those of my fellow Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered; where all the day one dillies and dallies with an amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted; where jack rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, remembering the old brave days on earth, and the love of one's Master and Mistress. I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best. One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, "When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one." Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have permitted to share the living room rug during the evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit, and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others. Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best. So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the Place Vendôme, or later along Park Avenue, all eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume, come closer to jack rabbits than I have been able to in recent years. And for all his faults, I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home. One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: "Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved." No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail. Tao House, December 17th, 1940 "Come here you spotty little dog!" 101 Dalmatians

101 Dalmatians?! 1 is Enough for Me!

Since the first day of bringing Aries home, she has been very destructive.  Aries would destroy any piece of paper (receipts, napkin, paper towels, toilet paper, etc) that she could reach.  At first, she couldn't reach that much, now she has perfected the art of standing on her back legs and swiping things off the counters with her long arms.  Our puppy trainer would tell me numerous times, after I was done complaining about the latest shoe or electrical cord Aries had destroyed that week, that Aries would grow out of the destroy phase.  Well, she's 17 months old now and she still loves to destroy stuff just as much, if not more, as she did when she was 4 months old.

So when she woke me up in the morning with her persistent whining and pawing I should have known better then to just open the bedroom door and let her wander the house while I curled back up on the bed trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

This is what I saw when I walked out to the living room only five minutes later:

Notice her bed in the far background, dragged up onto the chair, with the top ripped open.

*Sigh* Cleaning up is a huge part of owning a Dalmatian.

"What? Nine---ninety-nine! Oh, where did they all come from?" -101 Dalmatians (1961)

A Dalmatian's Spot

This blog is going to follow the adventures of Hilary and her Dalmatian, Aries.  We'll have stories that we hope will brighten your day, tips on owning/living with/surviving a dalmatian, and lots of pictures from 'spots' we've been.  As a first post, I thought it would be a good idea to briefly sum up my childhood dream of owning and living with my very first Dalmatian.

If you have ever read an article about Dalmatians you have seen all of these things said about them.

Dalmatians are said to be:  hyper, protective, high maintenance, WILD, bored easily, finicky, diggers, independent thinkers, destructive, skittish, loyal, territorial, and stubborn.

Well, I would have to agree with every single one of these adjectives.

But would I trade mine for anything?

Never.




Lyra Aries first day home August 13, 2010



"Fools aren't born Pongo.  Pretty girls make them in their spare time." - 101 Dalmatians