Tag Archives: Millie

November 11

Last night there was excitement here on my street. Some sort of stand-off with the police. Nothing serious but interesting to watch. Dogs were not happy with police officers out front or in the alley. 

Tonight is the complete opposite. I’m watching Law & Order SVU and listening to them snore. 


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November 2

Things I think of while walking the dogs . . .

What in the world do I feed them that makes their poop stink so bad?

What is it about Millie’s personality that she has to be “first” to everything?

How awesome that Rocky is cool enough to let Millie always be the lead dog.

I think it’s hilarious that they remember the one time they found a cat under a big pine tree and have to sniff every time we pass the tree, they know when we get close to the house on the corner that has the dog that always barks at them, and which house their human friends with hugs and treats live at but they aren’t bothered at all to pass the house were the dog that attacked Rocky lived.

When the dogs sniff a spot and then have to pee on that spot, I wonder if that’s a dog version of Facebook.  BTW . . . Millie ALWAYS has to get the last “word” in . . .

I learn something interesting from them every day.

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I’m Not Ready . . .

This is about the dogs . . . no, there isn’t a health crisis or anything to worry about . . . they are fine . . . each of them got a clean bill of health at their annual check-up . . . and I heard the “as they get older . . .” speech from Lovely Vet . . . and in my mind I’m screaming “they’re just puppies!!!”

But they aren’t anymore . . . Rocky is 8 and Millie is 7 . . . according to Lovely Vet that classifies them as “senior citizens” in the dog world.  Rocky came to live with us in February 2009 – he was just shy of four months old.  Millie came to live with us in April 2010 – she was about 8 months old.  They were babies when they entered my life and, for some odd reason, I still think of them as puppies . . .

Millie has a touch of arthritis in her front legs and is getting some gray on her muzzle.  She has gray eyebrows and a lot of gray hair on her belly.  Other than that she’s still as active as a puppy.

Rocky is just generally slowing down.  Getting pickier about what he eats, slower to get up in the morning, sleeping a little more soundly and harder to wake up sometimes.  But let the dogs next door start barking, a cat cross his path, or a squirrel make a dash across the yard and he takes off like a puppy.

They were with me during the last months of my marriage to XH.  They were by my side when I was learning how to be a single woman for the first time ever in my life.  They happily embraced Prince Charming when he came to live with us.  They were the reason I got out of bed a lot of the time after Prince Charming died.  They have been the one constant in my life over the past 7 years . . . and I can’t imagine my life without them.

But . . . but . . . but . . . I know that day is going to come . . . and with them being so close in age and so attached to each other it’s entirely possible that I might lose them both at about the same time . . . something I can’t bear to think about . . . .

But today is not that day.  Today they are chasing the birds, meeting the new puppy that lives behind us, introducing themselves to the new kittens that live next door (long story involving Lovely Neighbor Mike and his feral cat).  But in the back of my mind I know that I need to think about this . . . and I do my Scarlett O’Hara impression . . .  I’ll think about that tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day . . .

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No They Aren’t Spoiled

Y’all know that Rocky and Millie are my life . . .

Even though they were officially XH’s dogs and I was totally against getting them in the first place, I specifically asked for them as part of the divorce settlement . . .

After the divorce, they were there to keep me company and keep me from completely freaking out about living alone for the first time in my life . . .

After I broke my arm, they were always close by to make sure that I wasn’t over doing it and were happy to take naps whenever Mommy needed.

After Prince Charming died, they were the reason I got up out of bed in the morning.  They had to eat, they had to go potty, they needed to go for walks . . . they were always close by to give me doggie hugs and kisses when I didn’t think I could stand my grief for another minute.

I’d be lost without them . . . and I tend to go overboard a bit at Christmas . . .

On Black Friday, the big box Pet Store had a sale and they had doggie beds for half off.  Doggie beds for big doggies are pricey and a half off sale is always a great thing.  So I bought two beds . . . and since I can’t really hide two great big dog beds in The Little House Rocky and Millie got early Christmas presents.  And they LOVED the new doggie beds.

The doggie beds were upstairs in the bedroom . . . and they happily snuggled into them and slept soundly every night.  But in the morning, before I left for work, Rocky would give me his sad pitiful eyes that his snuggly bed wasn’t downstairs for him to guard the house.  So, like the sucker I am, I brought one of the beds downstairs for him during the day.  And then I would drag it back upstairs at bedtime each night.

That got old quick.  That bed is huge and awkward to carry.  The stairs are a bit narrow and steep.  It’s always entertaining to watch me drag that thing up and down the stairs . . . especially if Millie wants to help.  So I got the bright idea to buy two more beds for downstairs . . . but only if they were still on sale.  The big box Pet Store had a Christmas Week sale . . . and the beds were on sale again!!

So tonight I drove to the big box Pet Store that’s 20 minutes away (the local store didn’t have the beds in stock) in the dark and in the rain (I don’t see well in the dark and in the rain and driving is a bit of challenge) to pick up the beds for downstairs.  Yes, I have four beds . . for two dogs . . . so they can be just as comfortable when we are binge watching something on Netflix as they are when we are sleeping.

No, they aren’t spoiled at all . . .




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The Worst Part . . .

of any trip is taking the dogs to the “puppy camp”

I know they will be well taken care of . . . Randy has been taking care of my babies for over 20 years . . . he knows them and loves them as much as I do  . . .

Rocky’s sad face as he looks over his shoulder . . .

Millie scampers off without a second look . . .

Coming home to an empty house because my flight leaves at o’dark thirty tomorrow morning . . .

I can’t believe how much I miss them and I haven’t even left yet.



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My Greatest Fear

After Prince Charming died, I often said that I wasn’t afraid of anything because my worst nightmare had happened and I managed to live through it.  I had to bury the love of my life.

I faced a lot of things after he died with a laugh and a smile of my face . . . a bad job, a job change, financial uncertainty, Dad’s final illness and his death . . . really . . . this is the worst you can throw at me . . . you can’t scare me . . .

But that changed today when I realized that my worst nightmare and my greatest fear are two different things.

My greatest fear is something happening to Rocky or Millie.

Maybe it’s because I fought for them during the divorce . . . maybe it’s because it’s just the three of us now here at The Little House . . . maybe it’s because I know that I couldn’t have gotten through the dark days after Prince Charming died that I’m so vigilant about them.  Are they healthy, are they getting enough exercise, am I feeding them the right things?  I make sure they get their shots, I make sure they get all the necessary tests.  Their heartworm meds and meds to control fleas are given on time.

But sometimes . . . no matter how hard I try . . . no matter how vigilant I am about every single detail . . . things happen . . . bad things happen . . .

Rocky was attacked by a pit bull this morning while we were out on our morning walk.  We were minding our own business walking along a route that we walk every day.  We passed a house that we pass every day . . . but today the dog that lives in that house decided she didn’t want us walking past her house and she did something about it.  The dog lunged for all three of us (Me, Rocky and Millie) but Rocky put himself between the dog and me and Millie and took one for the team.  A lot of the details of the attack are still a blur to me but I remember a lot of cursing (from me) a lot of yelping (from Rocky) and a lot of barking (from Millie).  The owner of the dog ran up to us but she couldn’t get the dog to release her grip on Rocky.  I remember looking into Rocky’s eyes and seeing how scared he was and I knew I had to do something – anything – to save my baby.   Yes, I’m the silly lady that put her hand into a pit bull’s mouth to try and pry her jaws off my dog.  It took someone with a stick that looked like an axe handle to get the other dog to release her grip from Rocky’s neck.

The owner apologized profusely, gave me her contact info and assured me she would pay for whatever vet bills I incurred because of the attack.  She also assured me that the dog would be destroyed for coming after us.  (I’m not quite sure how I feel about the dog being destroyed over this attack . . . I’m still trying to process that part.)  She also asked me if I was okay . . . if I had been injured during the attack . . . and I laughed and said that’s the least of my worries right now, but thank you for your concern.

Rocky seemed fine – no gushing blood or obviously serious wounds.  Once the dog let go of his neck, he was ready to finish our walk.  Which we did . . . just a little slower than normal so I could check him out for any wounds that weren’t easily seen.  He seemed to have a goofy smile on his face (Hey, look what I did!) and wouldn’t leave my side.  Millie wasn’t hurt at all since Rocky seemed to push her out of the way . . . during the rest of our walk I discovered I have a scrapped knee and a few scrapes on my wrist.  The fingers survived being in the mouth of a pit bull without any bruises or scrapes at all.

As soon as I got home, I called Lovely Vet and explained what happened.  I told them he didn’t have any obviously serious wounds – no gushing blood or broken bones – but I wanted to make sure Rocky was okay.  They told me to bring him in and they’d look him over.  Lovely Vet looked him over, assured me that my handsome boy is fine, that the extra skin that Rocky has around his neck saved him from very serious injuries.  His neck is going to be stiff a sore for a while and he’s going to hate me for having to shove pills down his throat for the next week or so . . . but he certainly lived up to his name.  Rocky is a fighter that doesn’t give up.

So he’s resting . . . a tad uncomfortably with a sore neck and a sore tushy from the shots he got . . . Millie will only leave his side to come see what I’m doing . . . and Mommy has been checking on him about every 10 minutes.  It could have been much worse . . . I realize that I’m blessed that I didn’t lose Rocky today . . . I learned today what Rocky is willing to do to protect Mommy and Sissy . . . I learned today that there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for those two.

I fully expected to have a complete melt down over this but haven’t yet . . . the full impact of what happened hasn’t hit me yet.  But it will, I’m sure.  It’s gonna be a long weekend.

By the way, I just did an inventory of my injuries . . . I have a scrapped knee, a few scrapes on my left wrist, my legs are sore from planting myself and trying to pull Rocky and Millie away from the dog.  My fingers are sore from tugging on the other dog’s mouth.  My back is sore from being pulled across the ground after the dogs knocked me down.  There’s a few spots of blood on my shirt, a swipe of doggie poo on my leg (I always clean up after the dogs when they poo and I had a bag of poo with me) and a few grass stains on the back of my shirt.

Life here is certainly never boring.


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Not The Leader

You know that old saying . . . “if you aren’t the leader, the scenery never changes”?


rocky and millie 2


Well . . . apparently I’m not the leader of my pack . . .



and I’m okay with that . . .



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