Mike had to pull a half eaten baby rabbit from Turbo’s clenched jaws yesterday. This was a very traumatic experience for me. I realize that dogs are dogs and that hunting down and eating wild meat is simply bred into their nature, but why can’t he just stick to his Science Diet. It’s so much less bloody. Mike was actually on the phone wishing his dad Happy Father’s day when I noticed Turbo through the window, tiny Thumper feet hanging from his mouth. Without any particular plan in mind, I grabbed one of my shoes and ran out to do…something. But, by that time it was clear that the poor thing had departed from this world, I sighed and I contemplated just letting him eat the rest. Then I started thinking about the size of Turbo’s stomach and the size of said rabbit. He was eating it whole, kind of like a snake would. I worried that this might cause some sort of blockage in his stomach because surely, he doesn’t digest fur, does he?

It’s been storming off and on for almost two weeks now. Usually I love storms. I love listening to them, falling asleep to them. But unfortunately all the rain is causing a great deal of grief when it comes to our house, and belief it or not, my car. The house is flooding/dripping on two ends. My dad and Mike have been working on the corner flooding next to Liam’s room. After digging for a day they discovered that someone had drilled a who in the wall, which is probably where the majority of the rain was coming in. However, there still seems to be some leakage problems but they need to wait until everything dries properly before they seal it all. Meanwhile, it just keeps raining. Very annoying.

The sun room ceiling is still dripping, even after Mike and his dad spent days trying to seal up all the gaps. The car. Well, my car is always a mystery. It continues to be tempermental about starting. It died on me just before my massage therapy appointment last week. Not a good time to have a dead car. I was so looking forward to that massage, I was totally prepared to hike my way their in the heat. But the new mystery is that the trunk fills up with water after it rains and we can’t figure out where it all comes from since every “test” we’ve done on it seems to indicate that everything around the top of the trunk is sealed tight. I’ve had to chuck my spare tire because it got all rusty. Hopefully I won’t get a flat anytime soon because that would really suck.

New Liam words: bug, baking, honey (my heart melts when he says this), air conditioning (ok, so it doesn’t come out exactly like that but he has the syllables right).

New Liam challenge: getting him to sit down for dinner, eat dinner, show any interest whatsoever in dinner.

Which means he’s starting to do little boy/little kid stuff. He climbs things constantly. In fact, it’s rare his two feet remain on the ground because if they’re not climbing, they’re running somewhere and if he’s not doing that he’s on the floor trying to body slam the dogs, etc.

As Mike noted, we have started to potty train Liam. We’re doing it pretty informally for now, simply trying to introduce him to the contraption called “the toilet”, what it does, how to use it. He’s gone a total of four times now. He’s a very good student. But making him more aware of the potty process has also made him more observant about other methods, such as the way Turbo pee’s. It took awhile to figure out what Liam was doing when we went on walks in the afternoon and he’d stop short in the street to lift his leg against a nearby pole.

Somewhere I have counted all the words that he is saying now. “Ewww” is one of his favorites. We use it often to keep him from touching things that he isn’t supposed to, like trash can, trash on the ground while we’re on walks. He also uses the Norwegian word for bee (bie) to describe all insects including aunts and as we found out yesterday, spiders. He can also say most of his different body parts and many different sounds for different animals. He can also say mess. Not surprising since it tends to follow him around where ever he goes. I say that but have to mention that he’s also learning to “tidy”. For instance, one morning, early, just after we had all rolled out of bed, Liam walked into the t.v. room and noticed a plastic grocery bag on the floor. I had been organizing his old baby clothes the night before and used plastic bags to store them. I guess I left an empty one. After seeing the plastic bag, he promptly picked it up, walked into the kitchen, pushed open the door to the laundry room, and put the plastic bag in the bag where we keep grocery bags to be recycled, turned around, walked out of the laundry room, closed the door the best he could without jamming his little fingers, looked at us with a “why don’t you people pick-up after yourselves” look, and walked briskly back to his toys.

Cute things.

There’s a bit of purely aesthetic work left to be done, but it does it does it’s job. I don’t have pictured the other side of the house, but it pretty much looks the same on that side too. I still have to do the back part of our property, but that’ll have to be done later. I’ve got a bathroom finish.

I am so glad you decided to take a trip to Homeland last night. I know the last thing you probably wanted to do at midnight was bump into our misguided lost shivering beagle but I’m so glad you did. Turbo and I are connected in a special way. We both have this weird anxiety thing, we both step on people’s toes a lot but only because we want to make sure everyone’s ok and have some reassurance that we’re still loved even though we can be down right annoying sometimes. Most of all, we’re both far too curious for our own good which is probably why Turbo ended up at Homeland and why I end up reading seven books at the same time never finishing any one of them because I’m too curious to know what’s in the next book.

I’m also very glad that one of you had previously worked at a vets office because when we came to pick Turbo up this morning, his nails were clipped, his ears cleaned and his tummy full of pedigree chum. I had pretty much lost hope that Turbo would be found at all, but not only was he found, he was found by people who actually know a thing or two about taking care of dogs.

I really don’t know what else to say about you guys, except that you rock more then Chuck Berry.

___________

Dear Turbo,

If you were my child I would ground you for a year. But you’re not. You’re my dog so I guess all I can do right now is make up for the hugs you missed last night and hope you didn’t eat anything poisonous or moldy on your late night pilgrimage that will make you puke up green gooey stuff on my brand new rug.

___________

Dear Mike,

Had a great talk with you today at lunch. I can’t wait for our dinner/movie date tomorrow. You rock more then Chuck Berry and Led Zeplin put together.

So, my parents came over yesterday to help us look for Turbo but it was far to dark and given his past escapes it was almost certain that he could be half way cross town at that point.

For those of you who don’t know already, I was recently diagnosed with panic disorder (it isn’t extreme, thankfully I can still leave the house and go to work). My Thanksgiving week was not really a great Thanksgiving week. While everyone else was thanking their turkey and their family, I was simply thankful for the few pieces of sanity I had left in my head. I was dizzy, dazed and under the irrational impression that I was going to die of some horrible disease. I can’t even begin to explain how frightening, how real, and how paralyzing these feelings were. Mike and my parents got me through that weekend until I managed to see my most awesome doctor the following Monday. I’ve since seen a therapist who has set me to work on some exercises from a book which she refers to as the “bible” when it comes to treating panic disorders. Anyway, what I mean to say is, I really did not need to be dealing with a lost dog right now. It’s below freezing outside, I can only imagine how cold and alone he must feel. He has tags and the last time he got out someone found him and called us. I can only hope that a kind soul will find him again and we’ll get him back soon, but for some reason I’m hesitant to assume that we will be that lucky.

I’m angry, sad and confused. If you see me around today, please don’t attempt to cheer me up because I will probably only scowl at you. At this point, I don’t even think John Cleese could crack a smile out of me.

Turbo, if you’re out there please use that damn scent dog nose and find your way home.

UPDATE: Turbo was found last night around midnight, a few blocks away from our house. They found our number via our vet this morning and we picked him up - he’s nice and safe and sound now.

Email Subject: Dogs….Grrr

Next time Turbo gets himself stuck in the compost bin I’m leaving him there overnight, and MAYBE it’ll teach him a lesson. How he got in, I don’t know, I’ll have to check it out when it’s light tomorrow.

Liam’s fine, he’s head-banging on the couch.

I’m happy to say I finally have the chaotic family I always hoped for.

Speaking of dogs, our local newspaper had a front page story yesterday that really made me clench my fist and say a couple of naughty cuss words.

Bartlesville police responded to two separate reports of potential animal cruelty cases within just minutes of one another Monday.

Officers responded to the 1500 block of S.W. Jennings Avenue where a chained dog was found dead at approximately 3:30 p.m.

The animal still had a collar and chain around its neck. An empty water bucket with dry dog food in the bottom was found nearby. An above ground swimming pool filled with water was out of reach from the dog and there was no shade other than a small dog house. The dog appeared to have dug a hole in the dirt in an attempt to find water or stay cooler.

I was telling Mike that I really feel people should be tested for their ability to care of living things. “Here, keep this bamboo alive for a month and then we’ll talk about the dog.”

Turbo is somewhat of a gypsy not to mention escape artist. If there’s a way out of confinement he’ll find it and go off exploring. He did exactly that in the middle of the night on Saturday. The wind had pushed our make-shift chicken wire fence gate open. Being that it was dark, Mike didn’t notice it right away. He came back in a panic, grabbing his jeans and, with Liam in tow, we took both cars and spent most of the early morning trying to find him. Make a long story short, some kind hearted person from Woodland Hills estate found him around lunch time the next day and gave us a call. For those who don’t know where we live, Turbo would have had to cross a couple of major highways (for B’vill anyway) to get to that area of town.

We got Turbo from the shelter a few years ago. It was about a year after we bought Chani who was still a puppy and very energetic. We had discussed several times about getting a second dog to keep her company and because there was just something about having two dogs that she seemed so nice and balanced. Chani was a birthday gift for Mike and she has always been sort of his dog. Turbo…well, he’s definitely mine. The minute I met him, I felt something very kindred about him. We have a lot in common. We’ve both got anxiety issues and we’re both a little gypsy. I’ve always had a thing for strays in general, be man or beast, and Turbo has this quality about him, something in his eyes that says “love me love me don’t leave me alone” and I’ve always pulled to that sort of thing. However, despite how dear he is to me, he can be an amazing pain in the ass sometimes. He demands a great deal of attention. He has this annoying habit of standing right at my feet, following me around everywhere I go, and climbing on me every time I sit down (had a boyfriend like this once).

I’m not sure but I think this may be one of the reasons Mike does not particularly like Turbo. There may be a kind of alpha battle going on between them. Whatever it may be, Mike has been known to avoid Turbo’s pleas for attention on purpose. He was quite vocal about it on Saturday afternoon, only a few hours before Turbo disappeared. Turbo is very gentle and is very good at sitting. I’ve worked with him as much as possible to show him that I will gladly pet him if he refrains from climbing or jumping on me. So he walked over to Mike and did a very elegant sit right in front of him, tail still wagging, ears flopped back. Mike just stood there. My mom kindly brought Turbo to his attention and Mike responed with “I’m not going to pet him. I don’t like him, he doesn’t like me.” I’m not entirely sure where this came from in Mike. He has a rather dry sense of humor which is, in fact, one of the things I’ve always loved in him. However, there are times when he says things that are meant to be taken in jest that will instead inspire contrary impulses in me, like wanting to hit him hard over the head with a kitchen broom yelling “Just pet the damn dog, you jerk!”.

So after we spent the morning searching for Turbo, after it became clearer and clearer that we may never see him again, I asked Mike about what he had said and before I could even finish my question he said “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that all night.” I, in turn, felt just as guilty since I have spent many a day recently letting out my exacerbation and stress on Turbo because, well he happen’s to be right there at my feet. It was hard not to imagine Turbo jumping at the opportunity to leave his home on purpose, a little like a disgruntled teenager. “Yeah, whatever, you guys don’t care, I’m leaving.”

I also sort of wondered whether he might have been wanting to leave for a long time. When we picked him up from the shelter we were told that he had already been there twice before, that he was obviously a wonderer at heart or just neglected so bad that he had no choice but to wonder. Sometimes I just wish I could get inside his head and learn his story. I can sort of imagine him growing up out in the country somewhere. Mike was raised in the country and had country dogs growing up. When I would go up to stay with him at his parent’s place I was always amazed to see his dog and the neighbor’s dogs just wondering around, no leash, nothing. They were fed once a day early in the morning and would just wonder off, usually not seen again until the sun went down at the end of the day. What a wonderful way for a dog to live. Our dogs? I’m a suburbia girl. Our dogs eat small portions of food three times a day because the American Vetranarian’s Society recommends it for easier digestion. If they’re depressed, they take doggy prozac. If they go somewhere outside of this house, it’s either on a leash or in a car….with a seat belt. Yes, my dogs have their very own seat belts. If I were Turbo, and if I were raised in the country, I would have a very difficult time adjusting to this type of lifestyle. I can just imagine what goes on in his head “You psycho lady, what the hell? Seat belts?!”

Who knows what he was thinking when he discovered that gate wide open and wondered off. I’m just glad he’s back. I think he’s glad he’s back too, at least right now. Zeus almighty decided to unleash the mother of all lightening storms on us tonight. I’ve pretty much been up with both Chani and Turbo since 2am. I think he was up pacing the house before that but luckily I was fast asleep and couldn’t hear them. I was suprised to discover Chani trembling too. Usually she’s pretty indifferent to storms. The only way I seem to be able to calm them down is to turn on a bunch of lights in the house and turn the t.v. on., thereby drowing out all the lightening and thunder. I guess, in some ways, this is probably ridiculous. How many of us out there create a special environment for their dogs so they can sleep through a thunderstom.

The other night I had this horrible dream involving dogs and puppies. When I woke up it felt like I had spent the entire night with canines. Turbo and Chani were sitting in our sun room waiting for me to open the glass door, except as I stepped closer to the door I realized that there was a mirror image in front of me, two sliding doors side by side. Behind one were our two dogs. Behind the other were our two dogs again except they were beaten and limping, behind them was another large dog who sort of reminded me of those breeds of dogs the Egyptians used. He was also beaten and had two of its legs missing. Later on in the dream I was at some sort of shelter. There were dogs and cages everywhere, yelping and whining. I was frantically trying to tend to them all when I noticed my old art bin from college, the one I used to store all my art supplies in. I opened it and someone had stuffed a bunch of puppies inside there. They were still alive, but they were all smooshed.

Then yesterday I dreamt that Liam was growing metal in his mouth which provided for some really awful images, too disturbing to talk about here. He seems to be going through a teething episode right now so I imagine that’s why I dreamt that one. My mom has always told me about these horrible dreams she used to have, especially after she became a mother and it looks like I’ve inherited some of that. It leaves me feeling so traumatized in the morning.