There are a lot of stray puppies in my neighborhood. Just about every morning I find a stray puppy in a laundry basket just inside my doorstep. I always take them in and spend the day getting to know them.
It’s a variety of breeds of I have adopted: Black Labs, Purple Labs, Chihuahaus, Westies and lately, a rash of Golden Retrievers. You might think that a stray would just be happy to be taken in to a safe home. These puppies are, but they’re also full of directions. “Pretend you’re going outside to check your garden and you find me.” I am often instructed in a whisper followed by a string of high pitched barks.
This morning the stage direction started just after breakfast, when I was trying to iron a shirt for Paul. “Pretend you’re going out into the woods for a walk and you think you see a dead dog, but it’s really me sleeping.”
“If I found a dead dog I would run screaming.”
“No. Pretend you wonder what’s in that den and then you see me.”
I assumed I was talking to a puppy, but it was actually a baby bear.
“I’m all alone because…” she paused to think up her story, “my Mama and Daddy and brother and sister bear are all dead.”
“What happened!”
“Bad guys shot them and turned them into meat…actually they were good guys.”
“That’s so sad!” I had finished ironing so I bent over Jack’s kennel, where she was sitting waiting to be found. “Oh my goodness! What’s this? Is that a baby bear?”
She crawled around, blinked and turned her head winningly.
“Here girl! Come on girl!” I clucked and patted my leg.
She slowly crawled out of the kennel. “I was scared that you were going to turn me into meat.”
“Never!”
We walked, well I did, she crawled, past the bathroom where Paul was standing in a towel, shaving. I made the introductions and explained to him that the her family had been turned into meat.
“That’s sort of surprising,” he said, “bears aren’t normally prized for their meat.”
“Well, that’s what happened.” I said. Baby Bear just blinked up at us.
Since then she has made quite the den out of an upside down chair, a couple blankets and several pillows. She even has a small crystal vase with flowers tucked into the upended part of the chair. Wild animal animal she might be, but that doesn’t keep her from appreciating the finer things.
Mental Health Assessment Part 2
You have to see THIS. Go to the theater immediately. Now! Now! Now!
You don’t have to cry, although I SOBBED and Paul had to wipe away tears several times, but you must laugh or, at the very least smile. If you can walk out of the theater unmoved, call me and we’ll get you some help.
Go watch it today.
*To view the trailer, click on the red guitar.
“Mom, do you think Miley Cyrus’ success has gone to her head?” Lydia asked.
Before I had a chance to answer Eden asked, “What’s sussess in the head?”
“It’s about how people are thinking of themselves as cool -” Lydia began.
“I have that in my head.” Eden said.
Lydia tried again, “It’s when people get a lot of attention-“
“I get a lot of attention because I’m young!”
We never did decide on Miley Cyrus, but I think we all agreed that, given the same success, it would almost certainly go to Eden’s head.
She’s ready.
Last night Eden was singing and dancing on my bed while I read a book. She wasn’t putting on a show, just doing her thing, so I wasn’t being a neglectful mother. Some of her lyrics penetrated my brain and I looked up to catch her number as Mary, the mother of Jesus, singing about him,
“They took him and whipped him.
They whipped him 31 times.
And that’s not fuuuuuuuuun.
It huuuurt.”
Wow.
Eden’s musical styling could usually be described as “High School Musical meets praise music” but last night I think HSM met the Passion of Christ.
“I couldn’t see when I was two.” Eden said.
“Really, ” I said, “I had no idea you were blind.”
“I wasn’t blind! I couldn’t see, cept when I was three, four and five. Rennie couldn’t either. Could you see when you were a baby?”
I said I could.
“That is the most amazingest thing I’ve ever heard!”
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