When the Hummingbird Sings

This line showed up in a recent poem emailed to me and, no doubt, dozens of others.  I wanted to complete the couplet with, "And up, up into the blue sky/The turkeys flapped their  mighty wings." Turkeys are on my mind, being as we just passed Thanksgiving. And, one of the holiest days of the year: Black Friday. We cooked up $21.00 of Diestel turkey breast for our guests. Nickie and I dined on stuffed Portobello mushrooms, having lost interest in eating animals ever since we read Jonathon Safran Foer's Eating Animals.

The hotel guests, that was a different matter. Turkey and baked yams were served, with pumpkin pureé for dessert. I spent another $20.00 on the perfect little Autumn-inspired boxes to send home leftovers. There was supposed to be more on the menu; asparagus, dressing, etc., but we did not want to send our guests home with a doggy bag and the trots.

And yes, I did feel rather bad about spending 40 bucks on such a luxury, 40 bucks that would have no doubt fed half of Somalia. Or gone towards my Plasma HDTV fund.  I wonder if it works the other way. Does the Third World populace ever feel guilty for making us feel guilty?

Urine The Wrong Place

There is a reason, a very obvious reason, why Little Pup Lodge replaced the carpet with wood-like flooring. Never has it been more appreciated than this morning, when Nickie and I decided to do yoga. The chaturanga dandasana pose is ever so much more pleasant to do when my nose does not hover three inches above that fragrant yellowish carpet. Now all it takes is a quick mop and Pine-Sol becomes our default incense.

I expect dogs to lift a leg the first time they enter my house. It's fun to watch their mortified humans protest that he has never done this before. Dogs cannot not help themselves, what with all the hundreds of messages left by previous guests that require a response. I don't try to stop them or shame them, just stand at the ready with my disinfectant spray in one hand and rag in the other.

That being said, the first time is acceptable. After that, we expect a little restraint. Which most guests have except Chance. Chance looks like God picked the most interesting parts of several breeds and created His own Mr. Potato Head. He visits us every other Saturday and we've watched him blossom from a trembling, terrified mess to a joyful little guy who loves to play chase. Perhaps Chance allowed himself to get too comfortable. It seems he can't resist a wall, table leg or one time, my Ugg boots. His one-day visit can burn through a bag full of rags, easily. What to do?


A rare glimpse of Chance with all four feet on the ground.

America is the land of invention and clearly, one of those inventors had their own Chance. Hence, the Simple Solution Male Wrap. Disturbingly similar in appearance to a codpiece, this Velcro-fastened  accessory has brought back the love and banished the frustration. Having read the directions, I'm pretty sure its inventor was a Baptist: "Position the wrap so the …pad covers your dog's masculinity."  His masculinity? That's what they're calling it nowadays?

  Someone please shoot me.