It’s a wonderful world.

Well, as you know, I know a lot about a little and a little about a lot.  It never stops me from having an opinion, or giving an opinion but, end of day, face it…I don’t control much….because Wonder Boy and Momma call the shots…and what hasn’t been nailed down or written down in some indelible ink, somewhere in the universe, I get to decide….really, trust me….

It started the minute Momma lifted me out of my pen, away from my carefree siblings and took me to my Forever Home.  Right away, can’t wait… I needed a grooming, a baby tub  filled with luke warm water, eco-friendly shampoo, snarl free conditioner all invented (apparently) for little doggies like me.  I was  feeling deathly cold and trembling with fear but no worries…a big old terry cloth towel quickly took care of the first layers of water…and then my introduction to a beauty salon, lowest level possible hair blower and I was dry and silky in no time. Even so, I was left breathless and panting.  How often was this going to happen to me?

The rest of the first day was spent in doing the same thing, often…like being taken outside, put down on the freshly sprouting green lawn (it was April) to do my business.  Let’s see, I had lived in a barn, always inside, Check, I had lived in an apartment, always inside, Check, so what exactly were the expectations and how exactly did I go about I achieving them?

I was given some food in a shiny dish as well as a hard plastic water dish, placed on a braided mat, (just in case I was a sloppy eater), who had not attended Etiquette Training 101.  Now eating, I understood….. Manners…not so much.

Since I am the Ultimate Einstein Earth Dog, I soon had the schedule worked out….get up time, go outside,  take care of business, come in, eat. Little Nap followed by short bursts of training Sit, Good Girl, Stand, Good Girl, Walk, Good Girl, Come, Stop, Twirl….. it seems I am a Good, Good, Good Girl.  More outside time, food and water. Longer Nap. More Training. More Eating. More Outside time…you got it …until after supper when I turned into a Holy Terror. Apparently, Puppy Burn, is a well documented phenomenon  but the experts did not have the solution or timing down…I mean, like a Duracell battery I kept going and going and going, until I fell in an exhausted heap on my doggie pillow, cranky and bewildered. Yet over the months, the Puppy Burn faded until one day it was just Gone. Baby. Gone.    Big sigh of relief from Momma & Daddy….

A couple weeks later in my Forever Home, a leash was brought out and laid on the floor and a matching harness. Hm, what was that? I sniffed, I chewed and was told. No. Stop. Okay…no smell… no taste.. not inviting anyway.  A couple of days later,  and just put your front paws here, Bob’s your uncle, clip on the leash and we are ready to go, says Momma.  Huh?  I just turned into a Douglas Fir Tree.  I was going nowhere until this contraption was off me, I conveyed with my eyes. So dear, sweet Quite Contrary Momma says if I don’t want to move, so be it.  We will walk another day and marched away to scrub some corner or mop the floor.  Hey, did I just lose, ya think?

So I flopped down with a big sigh, harness, leash and all and sulked. I wasn’t a horse…I did not need a harness…I was descended from freedom loving wolves….did you ever see a wolf with a harness???  (Sleigh dogs don’t count).

Finally in exasperation I found my doggie pillow and napped.  An hour or so later Momma came and took off the offending equipment but promised me, we’d try again tomorrow and if I was a Good Girl, we would go for a walk, outside, where there are so many adventures to be had for a puppy…as long as they were leashed, harnessed, secure.

Did I sign up for this….come to think of it….did I sign anything? Still you know me, always a dreaming and a scheming…I’d figure out something I could control ….and that I did… so have faith…I tell you…I got my ways…..

So…let’s talk about Momma….again.  Oh, she thinks she is perfect but as Grandmama would say…Momma could cramp a saint… take walk times.  Sometimes, like she should (it’s in my Policy and Procedures for All Creation), Momma says. ‘Walk time, Jakita’….and she actually proceeds to the door, gets my leash around my neck and we are off.

I have to admits, sometimes I can be the hold up… if I was caught in a nap.  I take my jolly old-time, shake my head, do the downward stretch, shake my head some more, stumble over to the food dish…a dog has to have energy to exercise.

Okay, okay, I admit, there is no fault to be assigned because I am an Ultimate Einstein Earth Dog (think Earth, Virgo, detail fixated even if a was born in the Age of Aquarius) that tells time better than GMT (Greenwich Mean Time).  Set your world clock by me, you will not be off a nanosecond.

But mostly, it is, well, blame Momma.  Take today.  Momma set off, as she always does, somewhere around the ninth hour in the morning (after the school children are safely at school) to go to 1,2,3 stores… every day, 3 different stores.  At this rate the money may not last as long as we will.  The drug store was a must because it was 20% off day and somehow she had broken her hand-held mirror.  Isn’t that seven years bad luck?  The amount of mirrors Momma breaks, her time on earth will run out long before her bad luck. 

Next, realizing tomorrow was for Thanksgiving Day dinner preparation, Momma had to buy her beloved one a day (like a vitamin pill) glazed donuts because Monday, the stores are shuttered to honor all sacrificed turkeys.  Come Tuesday, the public will all be suffering a compulsive shopping disorder, pushing and shoving, emptying shelves… not a good scene.  You got to be like Momma and plan ahead to make sure your donut addiction is satisfied.

The last store was just a couple of things, keep the cats soft food inventory stable, and turnips for the Thanksgiving dinner… they had to be bought at this particular store because, well the good soul who grew up in ‘the day’ worked in produce and would cheerfully quarter her turnips for her. Imagine asking a millennial … their expression, God Bless Them,  would tell you, ‘Cut your own friggidy diggidy turnips’…..

All this being said, by the time Momma returned home, she was late for our usually scheduled walk… so, say you…did she drop everything and take you out the door? Well no, Momma also had laundry going on.  First load had to be folded and put away (you can’t have bath towels wrinkling, I guess LOL), then the second load had to be transferred from the washer to the dryer.

Then, there was groceries to put away, (can’t have the glaze sliding off the donuts), a mirror to assigned a home, paper towels to be replaced, a charge card receipt to be filed…the list went on and on and on. So, surely we are ready Momma… Almost… You know that fake fern that sits outside all summer, seems it has to be brought inside, now, right now or Momma being Momma, might forget it outside all winter, where the howling Arctic winds, sleet, ice, snow would absolutely, reveal its secret…it is artificial…like some of those Two Footed with their enhanced bodies and to ‘dye’ for or transplanted hair…Got it Momma.

Patience is a virtue…Momma finally exhausted her list of tasks and me, (just watching her). She got down the leash and we were off on our walk, savoring the autumn sunshine, crackling leaves and flowers breathtakingly magnificent.

I forgive you this time Momma, but next time, I expect you to  do better.  Are you listening, Momma?

Every one knows by now my Momma is an organized control freak Virgo…Still there could be worse things in a dog’s life, I am guessing, especially for a dog with IMHA (Immune Mediated Haemolytic Anemia).  There are countless, routine blood counts taken, to make sure I am still in remission because I am not anxious to go back on steroids and cyclosporine or get blood transfusions, even if it means seeing all those high faluting Yummy Mummies with their exquisite blue blood designer dogs from Chokeville Oakville.

Hey, I am the Ultimate Earth Dog,      The Super * with a Pedigree, that unquestionably surpasses all takers and so much smarter, better looking …and so humble.

So today I was to go to my in-town (city) vet for a check up and blood test. Momma is always so impressed that somehow, some way, I always can pick out the exact glass door to approach, in a field of glass doors.  That is the blessing and the curse of having a velcro brain with exact recall. I don’t mind entering…I’ll even get weighed but please no temperature readings, no blood tests and definitely any diagnosis that may lead to surgery is verboten…got it???

As I suspected would happen, the Vet Assistant did all kind of rude things to me. Then enters Dr. Pony-Tail-Vet.  Don’t get me wrong.  He is gentle, kind  but you almost wonder…is there a Sales Target put in place by a Chief Financial Officer, given out to Vets to push, that  can only be achieved by using scare tactics on doting, naïve I-Would- Do-Anything-For-You pet owners?

Let’s face it.  Momma is the original Quite Contrary so when Dr. Pony-Tail-Vet said, I needed surgery on both knees, usually $3000.00 but for you just $2000.00, Momma gulped and said she would have to think about that…

I mean, in today’s world, there is so much information to be gleaned from so many Search Engines that it was a pretty safe bet, I would not have to endure the indignity of surgery as long as there are Naturopath Vets.  And…if I do have a knee problem, it explains why like white men, I can’t jump…but I am not so crippled that I have trouble going up and down stairs.  I am not at a point when I am limping, feeling too stiff to walk (well, sometimes – fleetingly) nor do I whimper or whine in response to pain so…. hold the phones before you get out those scalpels, Dr. Pony-Tail-Vet. One thing I know is Momma doesn’t like hands in her pockets so to speak… and she has my furry little back…

When I am at the Vets, I read the signs, for sure, no kidding. When it is blood test time, I head to the glass door to escape.  The Vet Assistant chases behind me and I bolt over to Momma, my eyes screaming, ‘Save Me.’  Now another staff member joins in the chase, trying to drag me to the lab, while I do the two hundred pound glued to the floor routine.  In desperation the Vet Assistant stoops down, picks me up and it is off to the lab.

Like an Angel, I stop fighting, so that the procedure will be over as quickly as possible.  I am lifted down to the floor and I totally race to Momma, like a puppy, so anxious to be gone, home where my love lies waiting, silently for me…

The staff tell Momma I was as good as gold…of course I was…I have my pride and I am the Ultimate Earth Dog, The Super * with a Pedigree, don’t you know….

I love snow…did I tell you?  I love, love, love snow (get a grip, not the type you snort, the type you ski in).

Now I know I am a Havanese Hothouse pedigree originally from France and Spain, transplanted to Cuba so I should despise snow and ice but I guess that being born in Canada, in the winter, in a frigid barn with huge crevasses that welcomed the arctic vortex winds made me maybe, possibly, I am just saying, part Husky????  My mostly sable tri colored fur with white coloring makes me look like a Splash Coat Husky….at least I can see a resemblance, are you with me so far?

In any case DNA be darned, I love snorting snow, rolling in snow, ploughing through snow, eating snow.  The only time I get my A Game on is when I look outside and see a fresh coat of snow, no paw marks, and a fresh canvass to create.  Of course, I am left in the unenviable position of trying to convince Momma to, ‘Forget chores; we got a Rembrandt to make.’  It’s a hard sell to a stuffy, dyed in the wool do-the-chores-before-the-frolic Virgo type.  That logic just passes me by….chores never do themselves.  They are like cats.  They have nothing to do but wait.

The good news in all of this, as stubborn as Momma is, she always bundles up, even when the mercury is dangerously low and takes me walking.  Quite often, in the dead of winter when we are out and about, in a city of half a million people, it is like the world has been deserted.  There is only me and Momma.

All the Two Footed must be snug in their homes, their dogs, prisoners on lock down until the thermometer climbs.  There is nary a bird in the sky, no squirrels, no feral cats….just me and Momma, embracing the quiet and solitude of a brave new day.  The better news (for me, anyway) since we have the world to ourselves, Momma lets me free and I set sail, literally air born, my ears back, tail like a plume on my back, my paws skimming the snow, creating a work of carefree art until such time I tumble-down creating doggy angels with floppy ears.

I know and you know, no self-respecting Husky ever would wear a winter coat, made by the Two Footed, even out of love and compassion.  Still I am a Havanese and will capitulate on that score….but believe me, I will never wear booties.  Momma has bought all different types, which I manage to abandon before we are off the front steps.  She made homemade booties that worked better but still I always managed to lose a couple along the walk.  No, I am a bare paw kind of puppy.

Still I have a confession but please, it is top-secret.  DO NOT TELL ANYONE.  Sometimes on the way home, my little paws are so frozen I hold up the right one, look at Momma, hold up the left one, look at Momma and she does what good Momma’s do.  She picks me up, warms my paws with her big red mittens, as she carries me home. And just like the Three Little Piggies:

This little puppy went to market, That little puppy stayed at home,
This little puppy had roast beef, That little puppy had none.
And this little puppy ‘snuggled’ all the way home.

Life of Riley, I tell you. Ya got to dig it!

‘Happy Birthday to you, Jakita….’

Momma sang. How the heck was I to know? No one told me that it was my birthday! What is that exactly, anyway?   Ooohhh, the day I was born, the day a dog like me raised the bar on the WWDA (World Wide Dog Association). Hallelujah!

Momma, tell me that story again.  Oh yeah, like Baby Jesus, I was born in stable (sort of, kind of) where cows, horses, piggies, chickens, and lots of barn cats lived.  I remember it now.  The horses stamped their feet and whinnied, the cows mooed, the chickens cackled, the pigs oinked and the cats stayed out of sight. Now I remember, little Brother Fidel, his twin and my Fuzzy Wuzzy Big Lil Sister.  I was the brains, the leader. As soon as I could scramble out of the makeshift pen, I was gone, my three siblings in hot pursuit. Our tired Baby Mama just shook her head, said good riddance and fell back to sleep.

Oh, I was wily.  Those horse hooves looked big, and the cows seemed way high-strung.  Maybe they needed to be milked. No way we would risk our lives going near them.  And funny thing when the chickens saw us coming, they took off  squawking, like we were the enemy.  Go figure. We loved the kitties but Mama Cat wanted us nowhere near them so we would sit and watch them tussle and I would think, ‘I want one of those when I grow up.’

So that left Mama Pig and her piglets.  They looked like fun. We clambered in, played around and fell asleep, along with the piglets, resting on Mama Pig’s ample belly.

Yes, I remember those days and the separation anxiety when we were removed from the barn and taken to a holding station in order to be delivered to forever homes. It was incredibly confusing.  I was the boss, until Momma took me home, read the book on the latest, greatest way to develop a puppy.  It seemed I was too dominate and it was a most appalling trait that had to be corrected consistently. You don’t say? What served me well in the barnyard, was apparently frowned upon in a forever home.

Goes without saying, I thought I was perfect and was about as impressed with Momma as she was with me.  It took work and perseverance.  In the early days I admit every night between 6pm to 8pm I would rip around, jumping, growling, snarling, chewing just like I did in the barn.  Momma and RIP Daddy would fence me in to whatever room they were in, talk soothingly to me and somehow, as time passed, it lulled me in to changing my perspective.  Oh, I still would do naughty things, like bolt through an open door but I started to feel guilt when I saw how worried they looked as they tried to round me up.  Now a days I worry about Momma so would never ditch her.  If she says STOP, I stop. Anyway, where the heck would I rather be?

Yes, life turned out grand.  In my forever home I got my wish – all the cats I can handle (well, knowing my talent, I could look after a few more) and I love them just as I thought I would all those years ago in the barn.  I got my Momma and my Wonder Boy.  I miss RIP Daddy (how far is heaven, Momma?).  Face it, I got the life of Riley.

And today on my 6^th Birthday, Momma celebrated the occasion by spreading out a blanket on the floor,  and a sheep skin.  My birthday present was the cutest little purple just fit perfect in my mouth Care Bear and a two bite cupcake  to eat.  I can not remember when I had more fun…well, chasing squirrels, maybe. But face it, Who doesn’t like surprises….and cup cakes? We got to do this more often Momma, deal?