So I Got Her A Coat

It was 18 degrees outside this morning. I felt absolutely guilty about taking her outside, but when she's gotta poo, she's gotta poo. So I took her out. I took my little boy looking rat dog out in the 18 degree weather so that she could pee and poo. And she did, with a quickness. But when we got back to the house, she completely ignored me. She wouldn't eat. She barely looked at me and when she did, she had this pursed lipped cock-eyed look like she was not happy with me. Her anger was obvious, but I wasn't sure why she was mad. Maybe it was because I didn't allow her to chase after every squirrel that crossed our path. Maybe it was because out walk was cut drastically short. Maybe it was because it was 18 degrees outside and I had all her hair cut off the day before. Whatever the reason, she was mad and she was doing all she could to make me feel bad about it. When I was ready to leave the house and go to work, she started shivering. She must have learned the art of the guilt trip from the queen, because her little sad faced shivering act had me feeling like the worse dog parent there ever was. As broke as I am, I walked out of the house resolute in the idea that I had to buy her a coat today, no matter what. And I did.

Isn't she cute?! I'm proud of my $15 Target purchase. I opted for practical instead of cute. This red little number by Boots & Barkley is water repellant and has light reflector trimming on the back. It also has a little zipper pocket on the back. I'm not sure what that's for. Maybe I'll use it for an extra house key or a little treat for her. And to top it all off, my walk-the-dog-coat is red with light reflector trimming too! We'll make a cute little pair walking down the street in the artic cold.

Somebody help me. I've bought clothes for a dog.

Now She Needs A Coat

I took Matilda to get groomed today. I wanted her to be spiffy and clean before I took her home for the holidays. More importantly, I wanted her nails trimmed so that she wouldn't leave scratches in Mom's floor.

Matilda usually looks a little scruffy, and I like that. It fits her spunky little personality. This is a picture of her after she rolled around on the couch.

After her haircut today, she looked like this.
Doesn't she look pitiful? I think she looks like a little rat dog. This cut really accentuates her gray eyebrows and moustache. Makes her look like a boy. She looks like an old English professor.

The groomers did this to me last year. It was a different groomer, but in the dead of winter they gave my baby a summertime haircut. She looked like a pitiful little boy rat dog in all of the holiday pictures. This year will be an unfortunate repeat.

My sister's dog will be at home too. He's a 15 pound Yorkie. He's got a beautiful long coat.

I hope Matilda doesn't feel self-conscious.

I don't believe in doggie clothes, but it was in the mid twenties here today. Matilda is 11.9 pounds. She needs every bit a fur she can get to keep her warm. Now, she needs a coat.

What Could've Been

A couple of months back, I took Matilda to the vet because she was having some serious stomach trouble (that story is best left for another posting). The vet that saw us had seen us a few times before. The first time she encountered Matilda she exclaimed that she knew her. It turned out that she and her husband had visited the shelter when Matilda first arrived there. She wanted to adopt Matilda and her husband wanted to adopt a beagle. Her husband won. During this visit, I asked about the beagle. She told me that they had to put the dog down because they found a huge tumor in its belly. They hadn't had the dog for six months. I felt so bad for her and her husband, but I was very glad that the shoe wasn't on the other foot.

Rain

Where did the phrase "it's raining cats and dogs" come from? Whatever it's origin, it's doing just that here in Maryland and I have to go home and walk Matilda. No fun. I must REALLY love that dog.

A Different World

I believe that when I take Matilda outside, she enters her own world; a world where English is not allowed. When she's inside, she answers to her name and she usually responds to commands. But once we are out of the door, her knowledge of English disappears. I think that her name becomes something that can only be pronounced by other members of the animal kingdom. "Drop It" becomes something that translates into, "Sure eat it. I'm sure it won't hurt you."

I've been hesitant to take her to an obedience class because I don't want to change who she is. I know that sounds crazy, but I don't want her to become some robot of a dog just because it's convenient for me. I have a feeling that she may have been left outside a lot at her previous home. It's not really fair of me to expect her to act right outside when she only gets to go out twice a day for 30 minutes at a time, is it?

I need the Dog Whisperer.

Happy Birthday (Finally)

November 30th marked the end of Matilda's first year with me, and since I don't know when her true birthday is, I decided to use that date as her birthday. She turned six or seven, I'm not sure which. We didn't do anything special. I actually treated it as any other day. I'm not a big believer in doggie presents or doggie cakes, doggie outfits or doggie costumes. But now I'm secretly thinking about what I might get her for Christmas because I feel a little guilty about not celebrating her birthday.

A year ago, I was going through a serious transition. The man that I believed to be the love of my life was gone. I was moving from one house to another. Work was crazy. Money was short. A few "friends" were showing their true colors. I decided that the best stabilizer for me would be a dog. My friend, Lee, thought it to be a bad idea. He was worried about the time and money involved in caring for a dog. He had some legitimate concerns, but at that point, I couldn't hear legitimate. I only knew that I needed something or someone that needed me. I needed to be able to focus on something other than me. Unconditional love wouldn't hurt any either.

I began to scour the internet for a dog. When I found her on Petfinder.com, these were the photos that were posted of her.




She looked like a scraggly demon dog with her out of control fur and her flash-effected eyes, but there was something about her eyes in the second picture that I fell in love with instantly. I had previously fallen in love with another dog at a different shelter, only to find that someone else had filed their application before me. This time I would not be denied. I immediately emailed an adoption application to the Animal Resource Foundation (ARF). I drove about 30 minutes in the rain to go visit her at ARF. She was being kept in the director's office because she had had a run in with one of the other dogs there. When I walked in, she was curled up in an old chair that looked like it was once in the parlor in an old Victorian house. I picked her up and sat with her for about 10 minutes. She trembled almost the entire time. When I left, I knew that I wanted her, but I was a bit nervous about the whole idea. She seemed so frail. The next day, I actually thought about calling ARF and telling them that I had changed my mind. But there was something about her eyes in the second picture that told me she was my dog. A week later, she was mine.

We've had a few health mishaps, but for the most part, our life together has been quite enjoyable and enlightening.

Another Funny Self-Realization

I pointed out Matilda's picture on this blog to her just now. She stared at the picture as if she knew she was looking at herself. She stared really hard. It was kind of funny and quite interesting at the same time. Now she's just staring at me, begging me with her eyes to get off of the computer and show her some love. Or maybe she just wants some of the sweet potato pie I'm eating. LOL.

Funny

Matilda just got livid with another dog. She was sitting in my lap while I was working on my other blog and began to bark incessantly. It was absolutely outrageous. She was upset with the dog that she saw in the window. She was barking at her reflection in the glass. Hilarious.

Happy Birthday (Sorta)

Yesterday was the anniversary of the day that Matilda came to live with me. I'm working on the story of how I found her, but in the meantime, here is a story I wrote about the first time Matilda got sick. Enjoy!

Feb. 15, 2008

It all started with a cough on Wednesday morning. And this wasn't your ordinary cough. It was a dry, nasty sounding cough. Sounded like an angry goose. Occasionally, the end of the cough was accompanied by something that looked like the head of a cappuccino. Matilda was sick. She's my first dog and I was scared that if I left her at home to cough and gag all day, I might come home to a dead dog. At 7:42 a.m., I called the vet in a panic. She agreed to see me at 8:00. My vet is 20 minutes away in Easton. Suddenly, my decision of what to wear to court that day became trivial. I threw on my stand-by black pants and a purple cardigan set, grabbed Matilda, her bed, her leash, my coat and bag, and ran out the door. Not the best day to forget to put on deodorant, but thankfully, I had a stick stashed in my desk drawer for just such occasions.

And we're off - at 70 miles per hour, at least. Thank goodness the troopers that patrol the area know my car. I was passed by two of them that morning.

The coughing was the most painful thing I've ever heard. And it was persistent. "Lord, please don't let my dog die in this car. Don't let her throw up or choke. Lord, I am thankful that she's a dog and not a child. Thank you for not sending me a child yet. I couldn't handle it. Not by myself. I'm freaking out because my dog is sick. I can't imagine if this was a child. Please keep my dog alive, Lord."

In the moments between the coughs, I was all about the logistics. "Okay," I thought, "If we get there at 8:00 and they see us by 8:05, I'll be outta there by 8:30 at the latest. I'll drop off Matilda at the office and then get to court by 8:45. I'll only be 15 minutes late. No problem!". The best laid plans....

We get to Easton at about 7:58. We're on the bypass because my vet is on the side of town that's furthest from my house in Cambridge. With about a mile to go, we get stopped by a traffic light. Once it turns green, I put my foot on the gas and nothing happens. And of course, the coughing begins again. For whatever reason, I didn't panic. I pushed the gas pedal to the floor and my car maxed out at 25 miles per hour. I calmly put on my hazard lights and began to pray - again. "Please, God. Please just let us get to the vet safely. That's all I'm asking right now. Please just get us to the vet safely". Oh, did I mention that it was raining?

There was one more light we had to get through before we got to the vet. "Please, Lord, let the light be green." And it was, but I needed to turn left. There was one oncoming car, that I'm sure was speeding, but got out of the intersection before my car completely died. We were able to get through the intersection and pull into the vet's parking lot. We coasted into a parking space. It was 8:03. God is good.

I scooped up Matilda and ran into the vet's office. They called us back within 3 minutes. After an examination, they determined Matilda has kennel cough - it's kinda like the croup or bronchitis for humans. It's transferred from dog to dog by a virus. She got it when I dropped her off to be groomed a couple of weeks ago. I will never take her to that place again. They prescribed an antibiotic and told me that if the cough got too bad, I could give her Robitussin. Who knew dogs could take Robitussin? Chris Rock's daddy was right. The 'Tussin will cure anything!

We left the vet, and I thought that maybe, miraculously, my car would start. And it did! But it wouldn't hold the charge. I called Ellen, and she came to pick us up. While I was waiting for her, I called the only auto shop that I knew in town. They told me they would come to tow the car later that day. Ellen arrived about five minutes later. I dropped Matilda off at the office, grabbed my files, and ran down to District Court. It was 8:50 when I arrived.

The day only got better when the auto shop told me that they wouldn't be able to look at my car until the next day. And the piece d'resistance - I started my period a day early.

Thursday begins with the coughing. Still pretty bad, but she'd only had one dose of the antibiotic and no 'Tussin. I picked up some generic Robitussin during lunch. It's actually called "Tussin". Hilarious. By 4:00 that afternoon, I still had not heard anything about my car. When I called them around 10:30 that morning, they told me that my car was scheduled for the afternoon and if it was the alternator, like I thought it might be, they would be able to fix it the same day, no problem. When I called at 4:00, they told me it was not the alternator, but a lack of pressure in the fuel pump. Somehow, their schedule got backed up between the morning and the afternoon, and now, all of a sudden, they wouldn't be able to begin work on my car until Monday. Uh, I don't think so. So I started calling around to other shops that people in my office have used. I found one that could fix my car on Friday. Hallelujah!

Today is Friday, and after an unexpectedly contentious morning in court, I called to check on my car. It had just been towed from the first shop to the second. Within the hour, they called me back to say that the first shop correctly diagnosed the problem and quoted me a price, including parts and labor of $508.62. I'm now waiting for the call that says, "You're car is ready, ma'am."

Oh, and for the record, dogs don't like the 'Tussin.

I'm the Mama!

I've been overly concerned lately that Matilda loves everyone. I'm truly not sure what she would do if someone broke into the house. Instead of getting angry, barking, and trying to hurt the person, I think she might just jump up, wag her tail, and beg for the burglar to pet her.

It makes me think that she would just love anyone as much as she loves me. :(

I took her to the vet last night to get her rabies shot. I think she enjoys going to the vet because she gets to play "Who's the Boss" with the other dogs in the waiting room. She was trotting around with her tail wagging faster than a metronome set on 300 beats per minute. When the vet's assistant came out to get her, she got sad right away. He took her leash and tried to get her to walk with him to the back. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. Then she looked up at me, jumped up in my lap, and gave me the look made famous in those Sarah McLachlan "Save the Animals" commercials. You know those classic sad puppy dog eyes that beg you to do whatever it is they want. Then she curled up in a circle and layed on my lap and licked me on my sweatpants.

She does love me! I AM the Mama! Or maybe she was just trying to get me to do what she wanted. Either way, she wasn't giving him any love, so I'm happy.

The Black Pant Suit

Last night, I got frustrated with the mountain of clothes in the bottom of my closet that have to go to the dry cleaners, so I picked out a few of the essential items and put them in the floor near the bedroom door so that I would remember to take them to the cleaners. This morning, Matilda decided to curl up in the pile after our walk. I yelled at her because it reminded me of the story of the black pant suit. I've reprinted it below for those of you that weren't a part of my email circle when this happened. (Update: I recently found a great black pant suit on a tremendous sale at AnnTaylor.com. I hope it's a good replacement.)

This morning, I put a pile of clothes on the floor to take to the dry cleaners - 1 suit jacket (the pants weren't dirty, but I sweat like a pig), and my favorite black pants suit. The waist on the suit was too big, so I've been wearing it pinned in the waist. I was finally going to get it taken in so that I could wear my shirts tucked in. It was a light weight suit, as all of my black pant suits have been (I don't know why). My other favorite black pant suit was ruined a few months back when my iron got amazingly hot all of a sudden and burned my pants. I've held onto that suit thinking that someone will have a trick for removing the burn. But I digress.

I forgot to take the pile of clothes with me this morning. When I returned this evening, I found my favorite black pant suit on the floor where I left it, except the crotch had been ripped out and part of it was on the other side of the room. Jacket was fine, but the pants, ruined.

What is it with dogs and crotches?!

No matter the answer to that question, I am angry, hurt, confused, and out one perfectly good black pant suit.

Chloe Lost and Found

Chloe, Matilda's cousin through her extended family, got lost today during her walk with Dad.

Chloe is a small black Schnoodle that my friend's family adopted to give my goddaughter, Tess, a companion because dad was in Iraq. She was only two months old when they got her. Her previous family had two children and found that having a puppy was just too much. My friend, Renee, was not all that happy about the idea of getting a dog, but Tess really wanted and needed a companion, so...

When Dad got back from Iraq, he quickly bonded with the dog. Dad decided that his special "thing" with Chloe would be to take her for a walk without a leash. No one else in the family knew that he was doing this. Today, Chloe took off after a big dog and never looked back.

It was snowing and in the upper 30's this morning where they live.

When Renee called to tell me that Chloe was gone, my heart sank and my stomach flipped. Chloe is not microchipped, nor did she have on her collar and identification. Tess would be mortified that her companion was lost.

Luckily, a good samaritan found Chloe and turned her in to the local vet a few hours later. Renee got the call and dispatched Dad to go pick her up from the vet. Turns out Chloe was just down the street and around the corner from home.

If you have a dog, please get it microchipped. Implanting the chip is an inexpensive and short procedure that any vet should be able to perform. The chip has a number that is specific to your dog. If your dog is ever lost without its identification and it's turned in to the local ASPCA or vet, they will be able to identify you as the owner by scanning the chip in the dog.

At the very least always walk your dog on a leash. It protects the dog from harm and it's the law in most places.

Matilda the Lion Hearted

For today's post, please see "It Wasn't Mickey" on http://getitoutandmoveon.blogspot.com/

Introspection

Matilda has changed my life in so many ways. Today was a holiday, so I was able to sleep in for awhile. Matilda and I got up at 8 and were out for our morning constitutional at 8:30, two hours later than normal. If I didn't have her, I would have missed such a beautiful morning. The sky was decorated with big cotton candy clouds that seemed artistically placed on a bright blue canvas. We walked down to the park on the river as we always do these days. And as always, as soon as she saw the park, Matilda tried to take off like a bullet. Thankfully, the new harness I bought for her curbed her gallop to an Olympic speed power walk.

After she fulfilled the purpose of our walk, I decided to take a stroll with her to the top of the small hill in the park. There were two geese in the water closest to us. Just two. That's something we never really see. There's usually a gaggle of them, but this morning, there were only two. I watched those geese as I climbed the hill. And when I got there, I stopped and took in the view. The calmness of the river washed over me. And for the first time in a long time, I prayed. That's not to say that I don't talk to the Lord on a regular basis, because I do. But this morning, I stopped everything and prayed. It was this morning that I realized that I have always wanted to live close enough to the water that I could look at it everyday, but not so close that a storm would wash away my house. I've been living in this house since November, and I just realized that God has blessed me with the very thing I had asked for. So I thanked Him. I thanked Him for the view. I thanked Him for my wonderfully comfortable house. I thanked Him for my job and asked Him for a positive change in my finances. And I thanked him for my four legged partner.

When we returned to the same spot in the afternoon, this time there were five ducks in the water. Two couples, and a third wheel of a mallard. Maybe the female hadn't made a decision between the two males. Or maybe the two males were fighting over her. Regardless, there they were, 5 ducks, swimming out into the river. I stood and took in the view. Dark gray storm clouds replaced the cotton candy from earlier. The calm river was now choppy and rough. And so I asked the Lord, "Is a change about to come?"

The Day My Heart Stopped

I had been sick for almost a week and this was the first day in that long that I walked Tildy to the park instead of driving there. I was moving slowly because I was exhausted and my legs felt like tree trunks. Matilda tends to understand when I don't feel well and will act accordingly when we are in the house, but once we get outside, it's a completely different story. She forgets that I need a little t.l.c. and starts running after squirrels and birds as if she's not attached to me by a leash.

It was a beautiful summer afternoon. The park was filled with people. Kids playing on the jungle gym. Teenagers hanging out on the beach despite the "No Beach Access" sign. Women walking the boardwalk for exercise and couples walking it for pleasure.

I bent down to pick up poop and when I stood up, I realized that I didn't feel any tension on the end of the leash. I looked down at Matilda, and it seemed that she realized it at the same time I did. She was free. Somehow the leash had become disconnected from her harness. And in that moment of realization, Matilda seized her chance and took off.

My heart stopped.

I watched as she galloped away in glee. She zigzagged across the field. As I yelled her name, she looked back at me, her tongue wagging with a smile on her face, and she continued to run.

I couldn't breath.

I ran after her and after about 150 yards, my lungs began to burn. She was as fast as a bullet. She acted as if she didn't hear me yelling her name. There was no way I was going to catch her. She was too far in front of me. I couldn't push my body anymore.

I began to cry.

And then she stopped to make friends with someone fishing off the pier. Thank the Lord! Surely that person will keep her there until I get there. Nope. Matilda saw me coming and took off.

Was this a game to her? Or did she just not want to be with me anymore? The tears began to pour.

She turned a corner and I couldn't see her anymore. And with that I gave up. I stopped running. My constant companion was gone.

Maybe she had decided to go back to her previous owner. Maybe she just didn't like living with me. Maybe she was accustomed to being able to run free before she came to live with me.

And as I turned the corner to take the long way home, there she was! She had run into a gated area and was trying to find her way around it. When she saw me, she started running again. Damn dog. Just at that moment, a woman that I had run past in the park pulled up. She got out of her truck and started coaxing Matilda with a piece of chicken. Matilda ran right to her, tail wagging, and stopped about 10 feet in front of her. Suddenly, she turned her attention to me. She crawled over to me on her belly with her head down and laid down at my feet.

She knew she was wrong.

I was livid. How could she do something like this to me?! Why would she do something like this to me?! I picked her out of all the dogs on the internet, even though she looked scruffy and old. Didn't I love her enough? Didn't I take care of her when she was sick? I took her into my home and spoiled her rotten. What in the world would make her run from me like that?
I wanted to scream at her and beat her bottom until she understood how much she had hurt me, but the Rescue Chicken Lady was there telling me about a dog she used to have. I hardly heard a word she was saying. I thanked her profusely for her help, scooped up Matilda, and left.

Since she enjoyed going for walks so much, I carried her the whole way home. Squirrels would cross our path and she would try to wiggle free. Nope. Don't think so. You had your time. Now you gotta look like a punk being carried home. I hope the squirrels, the birds, and the other dogs in the neighborhood are laughing at you because you can't even walk home. You can't be trusted. You have to be carried.

When we got back to the house, I let loose. I screamed at her like I've never screamed at anyone. I put her in a room and closed the door. She tried to apologize, but I wouldn't let her. I had never been so hurt, so angry, so relieved.

A Public Service Announcement

The search for the Presidential Pet has drawn a lot of much needed attention to local animal shelters.

When I decided I wanted a dog, I knew that I didn't have the patience for a puppy. The thought of housebreaking a dog was daunting. I just couldn't see me coming home to pee and poop all over the place. Nope, that wasn't for me. I felt that an older, already housebroken, already vaccinated, already spayed or neutered dog was best for me.

Focused and determined to find the right dog, I found and bookmarked websites for every ASPCA/humane society in Maryland, and along Rt. 29 in Virginia. During my search, I came across Petfinder.com. It's a great site that makes it easy to search over 300,000 animals in over 12,000 adoption groups across the country. Just plug in what kind of animal you're looking for, and your zip code, and all of the available animals in your area are there for you to peruse.

It was on Petfinder.com that I found Matilda. She was at the Animal Resource Foundation (ARF) in Chester, Maryland. I faxed them an application for Matilda on a Monday, and by Friday, she was all mine. The folks there are absolutely wonderful. They called me to follow up on my application and to ask me a few additional questions. A few days later, I got the call telling me I was approved and that Matilda would be mine. When I asked when I could come get her, they said they would be bringing her to me. My response must have told them what I was thinking - "That's odd. Why can't I just come pick her up?". They explained that they deliver each of their animals in order to check out the new owner and the dog's new home. They also want to help adapt the dog to its new surroundings. A family in Richmond, Virginia had expressed an interest in Matilda the week before I did. The folks at ARF took Matilda to Richmond, during a holiday weekend nonetheless, and after observing what her living situation would have been, they brought her back. They didn't like what they saw and weren't willing to leave her there.

These people are angels - volunteers committed to making sure that every rescued animal has a safe and loving home. Most rescue organizations are filled with angels who are looking after lost, abandoned, abused, or neglected animals.

Please support your local animal rescue organization. And if you are looking for a new pet, check out Petfinder.com. Your new best friend is just a click away.

Matilda Obama?

There have been many stories on what kind of dog Sasha and Malia will pick to be the official First Dog. It's funny to me that there is so much concern about what dog the girls will pick. But history has shown a keen interest in the animals that live at the White House. It incenses me that all of the suggestions have been of pure bred dogs. Mix breed dogs are the best and adoption is such a socially conscious way to find a pet. Sasha and Maila, please consider searching Petfinder.com. That is where I found Matilda.

With that said, here's why my Matilda would make the perfect First Dog.

First and foremost, Matilda would be a great diplomat. She would probably jump in Putin's lap and lick him on the nose. She has a way of breaking down the hardest of personalities and making them do things they normally wouldn't. Matilda could probably create a situation that would allow President Obama to easily talk the oil lobby into doing the right thing.

Matilda is protective. Okay, not really. She loves everybody. But she'd have the Secret Service, so, no worries.

Matilda is observant. She pays attention to the smallest of details and, if she could talk, would regale you with tales of all of the happenings of the day. She'd know who visited that day, why they were there, and what they were wearing.

Matilda is adorable. She would make a cute addition to the First Family's holiday card. She'd melt the hearts of the media.

She's more interesting than Barney, more loyal than Buddy, and smarter than Millie.

But she is pretty spoiled. She has terrible gas and burps after every meal. She sheds terribly and does the booty-scoot across the carpet more often than not.

So maybe she wouldn't make the best First Dog and that's just fine. I'll keep her right here with me.

Like milk, three weeks past its "sell by" date.

Matilda is spoiled. I don't mean spoiled like she wears Ralph Lauren clothes for dogs, nor does she have a jeweled collar and leash. I don't carry her around in a purse-like carrier on my shoulder. Nevertheless, she is spoiled.

Since she's adopted, I've decided that I did not create this problem. It surely must have been her previous owners. It was they who made her believe that she has every right, not only to sleep on the human bed, but under the human blankets. It was they who gave her permission to follow the humans everywhere they go throughout the house. It was they who never told her that she could not always sit in the human's lap.

It's not my doing that caused her to think that I should stop what I'm doing in order to pet her. I had nothing to do with her deciding that she will only eat when the food is in my hands - sometimes. I most certainly was not the one who made her think that she gets to dictate when it is time to go to bed.

Okay, so maybe I have lavished her with attention. Maybe I have been overly concerned when there seems to be something wrong with her, so I'll coax her to eat. Maybe I enjoy having her close by all the time.

I was an only child for almost eight years. I remember hating to be left alone. If my mom was in the kitchen, I was in the kitchen. If my parents were in the living room, I was in the living room. I probably was underfoot so much that I got on their nerves. I'm sure I must have been somewhat of an attention hog. And I remember clearly being a cuddlebug. I slept with teddy bears for a very long time.

It's funny how similar personalities have a way of finding each other, even between the species.

"You got a used dog, Charlie Brown."

For the past couple of mornings, I've woken up with the "No Dogs Allowed" song from the movie "Snoopy Come Home" in my head. I don't know why. Doesn't make much sense. But there I was, humming the tune, as I remembered it, while I got dressed to take Matilda out for a walk. This morning, I looked for the clip on Youtube and found the whole movie broken up into six minute segments. It's been years since I've seen the movie, so I had to watch each of the clips in order to find the song. Turns out I had changed the tune and a few of the lyrics, but I had the gist of it. Here's a clip of Snoopy getting thrown out of the hospital a couple of times.

What a sad movie! In case you don't remember it, Snoopy gets a letter from Lila who is in the hospital and in need of his companionship. During his journey to her, he gets thrown out of a few places with the voice over singing "No Dogs Allowed" in a voice that's got to be lower than the lowest baritone you've ever heard. Linus finds out that Snoopy was previously owned by Lila before Charlie Brown's parents bought him. When Charlie Brown hears the news, he faints. Lila makes the ultimate request and asks Snoopy to stay with her instead of returning home. Snoopy decides to stay with her, but when he arrives at her building, he's met with a sign that says "No Dogs Allowed in the Building", so he happily returns home.

I adopted Matilda almost a year ago.

For the past eleven months, I've been wondering if Matilda thinks of her previous home. Is she happy here with me or do I bore her to tears? How far away was her home? Does she remember the way there? If given the choice, would she return? Hopefully, I'll never know the answers to those questions. Like Charlie Brown, I think I would completely lose it if I ever found out that Matilda had left me for someone else. I love her so much.

But what must her previous owners be feeling? Sigh.

Introductions

This is me and Matilda. She's a terrier mix that's curious about almost everything and can be a bit of a diva. She's almost 12 pounds and barely stands a foot tall, but this little ball of energy has changed my life tremendously.

Please become a Follower of this blog to hear about The Life and Times of Matilda & Me.