Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

Grandpets are the new grandkids

With the younger generation waiting longer to start their families, people like me are having to wait longer to have grandchildren. I’m okay with it as long as they keep letting me call these creatures my grandpets. None have objected, but I do notice their sideways glances when I walk in announcing “Gramma’s here!”

And like any proud Gramma, I brought pictures….

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Thunderpaws was so named for the size of his tremendous feet. I like to call him T-Paws. He was such a good boy when he arrived, we were convinced he might have been perfect. That is, until he ate the carpet. Well, he might not be perfect after all, but he’s a very loving boy.

Thunderpaws has us all wrapped around his heart, which is at least as big as his paws!

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Frank is a clever little pup. He has his own social media account on Instagram as Frank The Tank but I call him Frankster the Prankster.

Last month he learned to drive. As far as I know he hasn’t had any accidents or moving violations, but he likes to stop at all the fire hydrants.

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Mufasa is my grand-rabbit. He might be named for the fluffy mane around his neck, or maybe because he’s a brave little bunny. My own dogs are leery of a running vacuum, but Mufasa hops over and sniffs the windy nozzle. He doesn’t seem to mind when his dog-cousin, T-Paws, comes to visit, either.

Admit it. That little bunny face made you smile.

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It’s not like I bring a lawn chair to watch their sports at the dog park, or take them out on their birthdays. Hey, I haven’t completely lost my marbles. But sometimes you have to make do with what you’ve got, and for now I’ve got grandpets.

Peace . . .

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Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

Two opinions are always better than one

 

I find two opinions are always better than one, especially when one is mine.
–Sister Monica Joan, Call the Midwife

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I’ve been accommodating my BBC addiction with some Call The Midwife marathons. Combined with crochet, it’s the perfect indulgence.

Peace . . .

Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

Laugh every day

I try to find something to laugh about every day. Today it arrived by United Parcel Service.

My order of whatchamacallits came today. Amazon sent me three notifications telling me my order was on my doorstep. So I shouldn’t have been surprised to find three boxes waiting for me when I got home. I tried to remember what else I had ordered. Shortly after bringing them in the house, a UPS truck stopped by with one more. The fourth notification rang on my phone minutes later.

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As the boxes were opened one by one, the situation was revealed to me.

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I took the four whatchamacallits out of their individual boxes, stacked them and just to prove the point, slipped them into a single box with room to spare.

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There are so many things wrong about this. Don’t get me started. Some days if you don’t laugh, you cry. So today I chose to laugh.

Peace . . .

Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

Only 293 days left

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.
— Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

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Every year there seem to be some lingering decorations to put away long after the holidays have passed. Maybe that’s why it feels like Christmas is either coming or going. After all, there are only 293 shopping days left.

You’re welcome.

Peace . . .

Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

If dogs had hands

What if dogs had hands? You know . . . with opposable thumbs and the whole nine yards.

Mostly likely they wouldn’t be practicing Chopin on the piano, or sharpening any craftsman skills.  Picture toddlers that never grow up.

The first thing they’d do would be to go in-and-out-and-in-and-out all day long. They’d hear a dog bark and they would throw open the door, let it bang against the wall, and tear out into the yard barking — at any hour of the day or night.

UntitledThere would be no training them to shut the door quietly, if we could get them to shut it at all. They wouldn’t be trainable at all, because they’d have free access to all the treats they could eat. I’d hold out a milk bone, command them to sit, and they’d look at me, walk into the kitchen, and grab a handful of chips. They’d walk over to the tv, flip over to Animal Planet, sit on the couch and mindlessly let the crumbs fall between the cushions.

Can you imagine trying to walk a dog who could reach up and detach their leash whenever they wanted to veer off the sidewalk? Instead of barking at the mail carrier through the closed door, they’d open it up and chase her down the street.

Then again, maybe they’d learn to throw frisbees and balls to each other and they’d stop nagging me. Maybe instead of waking me up in the morning to be let out and pour a bowl of kibble, they’d simply do it themselves. Maybe they’d actually get up and make a nice pancake breakfast with sausage and eggs for the whole family. Yeah . . . highly unlikely.

What would your pets do if they had hands?

Peace . . .

Posted in Whimsical Wednesday

You’re kind of a big deal

Walking in the door, there are two black wagging tails, four eyes looking up, and eight paws padding back and forth and jumping off the ground.  Sabbie especially will jump and jump and jump, careful not to land against us, but unable to stay on mother earth.  They wiggle and snort, sometimes pouncing on each other in their excitement.  There are groans and growls, all to distract me from putting away my coat and purse.

It’s like watching the crowd at a Taylor Swift concert. In my dogs’ eyes, I’ve achieved celebrity status. I’ve arrived. I’m kind of a big deal around here.

If you walked into my house it wouldn’t be any different. I’ve seen the pizza delivery man get a pretty good reception too. So let’s all walk around this week like we’re a big deal.

Because we are. If only in the eyes of my dogs.

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Peace . . .