Weekend Mornings

Weekend mornings are the highlight of the entire week.  Days are counted down until Saturday morning, which starts about an hour before I wake up.

I can feel the leap, and stare, as she stands over me on the bed, willing me to get up.  Like a cat, she tangles in my feet as I stumble to the bathroom, and then trip over her as I head to the kitchen.  The stare never stops.  I can feel it no matter where I go – so intense – and constant.

Miles and miles of adventure – chipmunks, squirrels, other dogs to rage at – the sheer joy on her fierce, intense face, as she marches down the street, makes me smile.  To everyone we pass, she just appears to be on some singly focused mission.

The best part of of the walk is the peace at the end.

My Lu

Sometimes my little dog seems to regress.  I watch her as she curls up in the chair across the room and feigns sleep – the alert, spotted ears constantly twitching and turning at the slightest noise.  I call her to me, as I sit quietly on the sofa, making no startling noises.  Her ears tilt back at my voice, and those soft brown eyes part slightly in acknowledgement, and then they close again.  She does not want human contact right now.

The night before she had curled into my arms as fireworks exploded outside.  I could feel her body shaking as the adrenaline coursed through her bunched muscles – shaking with rage.  Earlier, she had charged through the yard screaming, trying to find the source of the enemy noises.  I had finally managed to capture her and drag her back into the house.  I carried her to the sofa as she cartwheeled wildly in my arms, jamming sharp pointy elbows into my jaw and neck.  I collapsed onto the couch, hugging her solid, muscular body close.  She slowly calmed down, curled into my lap, and glared balefully out the window, the glow of anger slowly receding from her eyes as the bristles flattened along her neck.  

A few minutes later she crashed from her adrenaline high, tucked her face into the crook of my arm, and melted across my lap, into a light, twitching sleep.

Lu really only has one fear, and it is humans.  I know she wants to trust me, but five years after rescuing her, I don’t think she will ever completely be able to flee her demons.  So, I just love her as best I can, and when the rage rises I hold her tight, or sit back and let it run it’s course in a safe place.

I think I love her more than the others because I can see what she is in the good moments.  I also admire her, because through it all she has kept her dignity and pride.  She is her own dog that wants to depend on nobody, and I know that deep inside her, it is really fear that drives the rage.

She is a dog that faces life with the most fierce determination and will power I have ever seen, and I always feel fortunate she came into my life.


My powerful little dog has torn her ACL – at least that is what the vet “thinks” is the reason she leans slightly to one side to take her weight off her back leg.  Now, she always looks a little crooked when standing still, unless their is a small living creature in her line of sight.  When movement is sighted, all pain is forgotten.

It has been about a month since we were given her diagnosis, and Lulu is miserable.  She cannot go anywhere without being on a leash, and I honestly don’t understand why.  She has simply transferred her energy releases to the interior of the house, and turning sharp corners as she slides around the dining room table on hard wood floors at 20 MPH has GOT to have a more adverse effect on her ACL than trotting the fence line.

On top of all this, is the relationship stress.

“Are you taking her out?”

“It is raining.”

“It is your turn.”

“It’s raining.”

“She still has to go to the bathroom.”

“It is raining.  Just let her out. She does not run in the rain.”

At this point, the conversation often begins to escalate, because if it is not raining, then it is cold, or it is dark, or now that it is winter, cold, dark and raining.

“You are so lazy.  I’ll take her out!”


“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Are you taking her out?”

“You just said you were taking her out.”


“Fine, I’ll take her out.”

“Good, and hurry back.  I don’t want to leave the show on pause for 15 minutes.”

As we stand at the door staring out in to the yard, I lean over and clip on the leash.  I stand and look down at her as she looks up, a mild look of disgust on her face.

“This is what happens when a Republican dog is raised by a democrat,” I say, raising my eyebrows at her in a dog smile.”






I’ve not blogged in forever – mostly because work has kicked my 30 plus gained pound fanny, and downtime is spent zoning out on some story or TV mind release.  Around this all, I’ve of course been wrapped up in Lucy’s world.

Today I decided to just write.  It’s relaxing, and I need to relax.

I’ve gained about 35 pounds in a year – and two weeks ago when I sat slogging through more TV, slouched on the sofa with my rolls compressed, and Lulu staring at me in frustration, I decided to make a shift.

I logged onto my iPad – kept near the tv – and searched for diet food shipped to me.  Limited time required something simple with little thought – alas “BistroMD.”

This past week of starvation via small cartons of “balanced” food has resulted in four less pounds and zero energy.  The diet says not to add exercise initially – no issue.

Today though, Lucy got her long weekend hike.  Racing to me, laying on my feet as I tried to slide on shorts, and twirling in bone breaking pit bull circles, we prepared to head out.  I asked her to sit while I went through the door first (my only moment of feigned dominance) she tremble and hunched down as adrenaline coursed through her dense muscle.  It was time to WALK!

As long as it is above 30 I hike in shorts.  Below 30 might result in frostbite, so with khaki shorts, two thermal shirts, a down jacket, wool hat and gloves, we headed out – the pit and her mentally challenged owner.  Seriously – no hiking pants fit me.  I’m fat and my ego refuses to buy another size up, so I punish myself with chafed legs and the new Bistro regime

It was cold this morning, and Lulu circled me frantically in her efforts not to pass the pack leader, as taught.  I really would rather her pull than constantly wrap my legs in her leash – at least initially.  The wrapping is typically only a few minutes while excess energy is burned.  There are exceptions.

We did five miles, down chilly wet squirrel infested streets.  Lu bolted, and then circled, repeatedly.  I now have chafe and several leash burns.

Back home, she got her biscuit, and I had two bites of lentils, beef and veggies.  I think hers had more calories, but then she has much less body fat.

Tonight is my night off – one night every seven days.  Monday morning is the big first week weigh in.  I’m expecting big results, and only have 15 more weeks to go!