My birthday is quickly approaching. I have always loved my birthday. I still do. The increasing number does not bother me. In fact, I'm happy to be older this year- because I will be an even number. I always feel better about things when I'm an even age. One of my (many) quirks. I've been excited about my birthday for weeks. This may partly be because I will be spending my birthday with my family in NY, but I suspect I'd still be somewhat excited even if I were going to be here in Ohio.
This year, my birthday falls on Sunday. I was born on a Sunday. It always feels a little extra special when my birthday falls on Sunday. Every child has no doubt at least once heard about the day of their birth. My grandmother was picking tomatoes when she went into labor with my mother. My father was born on Ash Wednesday. My sister's name was changed as mom & dad were headed to the hospital. I have heard the story of my birth day more times than I can count. Not that it was anything remarkable, but it has become a bit of a family joke.
That first Sunday in June over three decades ago was by all remembrances, a beautiful late spring day in upstate NY. My parents had plans to cook steaks on the grill with my grandparents for dinner. Dinner, which on Sunday, falls in the mid to early afternoon. It is the big meal of the day. Not that they had to travel for the dinner, mom's parents lived just a few houses away. My mom was about a week overdue, and I have always found it amusing that when they called my Grandmother that Sunday morning to tell her they would not be there for dinner, my Grandmother asked 'Why not?'.
Over the mountain and through the woods to Samaritan Hospital they went. Mom & Dad in their car. Grandma and mom's sister, Arlene, in their own car. Grandpa was given instructions to stay by the phone, and Grandma would call him when there was a baby. Grandpa of course, did not obey these instructions. He went out in the garage and tinkered. That's what my Grandma always called it. He found projects to work on. Of course, the day my parents got married, he put his coveralls on over his suit and went out to change the oil in the car while he was waiting for the women. My grandmother knew he did not stay by the phone, because she called him frequently during the afternoon. She had nothing to report, she just called. When he came in the house to make himself a bite to eat, she called and caught him. Grandma fretted at him for not staying by the phone, and Grandpa asked 'Do we have a baby yet?'. Grandma told him no. And he said 'Well, call me when we do'. You would have to know my Grandparents-Grandpa was a very laid back, patient person. Grandma was pretty high strung and really, a bit of a control freak. Their personalities were completely opposite of each other. I always thought they were mismatched, but it worked for them.
Dad said in the late afternoon, early evening, it clouded up. And then it started raining. When I was born, around 7pm, it was raining so hard you could not see across the street. Or so Dad says. I have to take his word for it, since I can't remember that.
Rain on one's birth day is not such a significant event. It is the way rain has played a role in my life following the birth that makes it interesting. It has rained on either my birthday or the day of my party most of my life. Not that I still have parties, but when I was a kid, the party was usually the Saturday closest to my birthday, and if it hadn't rained on my birthday, it rained on the party. I remember my 10th birthday. 10 was a big deal. My parents redid my room for me, I was able to pick out the paint, and the comforter, everything. They bought me a nice desk, which I am still using today. When it was new, I sat at the desk to do my homework. Now it holds the laptop in the living room. It's showing it's age, and really should be replaced. I invited all of my classmates to my birthday party. We planned an outdoor party. It would be in our backyard, and we were going to play baseball. And then the rain came, the party was moved inside, and I remember seeing all of my friends crowded around mom's dining room table.
I don't know if mom had 'backup' plans by then, but she did after that. When we'd plan my birthday, we would say 'and if it rains...' . The years that I was a preteen and in my early teen years, when I only wanted to have a couple of girlfriends over for a sleepover, the weather didn't matter so much. The year I turned 16, my birthday fell on a Saturday. Mom said 'let's rent a hall!'. We held my party at the Berlin Rod & Gun Club. We could be indoors, but there were things to do outdoors too, including volleyball courts. But of course, it rained. It was cold too. So we were all indoors, chatting and trying to stay close together to stay warm (the hall did not have heat).
I cannot remember how many birthdays (or parties) it rained on, but I know in my three and 1/3 decades so far, it has been sunny the whole time less than 10 years. So it is easy to say the majority of my birthdays have been rainy. So have major events in my life. Both my high school and my college graduations. Torrential downpours. At the college graduation, there was such a downpour during Baccalaureate, and then we had to go across the road to the Campus Center- we got drenched walking over there. Laura had on a little silky skirt, and we had to go into the ladies' room and dry it under the automatic hand dryer.
The only major event of my life that it did not rain was my wedding. And yet, that was NOT a big enough sign to me that this was a mistake. In hindsight, I realized that was the only sign I should have needed.
It has become the family joke. My family calls to wish me a Happy Birthday, and someone will say 'did it rain?'. This year, we are planning to go to the Bronx Zoo the day before my birthday. I didn't want to put it out there. Finally, a couple of weeks ago, Mom asked what the plan was if it rained. My sister said she was trying to think positively. I told her we needed to face it, and have something to do in case of rain. So we decided if it is raining, we will go to the Boston Aquarium- which is indoors.
I do feel a little badly for my brother-in-law, Andy. We share a birthday, although he will be quick to tell you I am 2 years older. I always feel like if I am home for our birthday, he suffers from the rain.
I think, had my parents been looking to use an Indian name for me, I would be known as Little Rain Cloud.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Knitting Lessons
My parents have lived in the same house since they were married. It is a simple, two story house. When we were kids, we would draw pictures of houses in school. Two parallel vertical lines, with a triangle on top. That is still how I would draw mom's house- because that is the way it looks. Except hers is in 3D. of course. :) For years the house was painted 'Harvest Gold'. You know-that 1970's gold. It has only been in the past decade that mom & dad put siding on the house and it is now tan.
The house was built sometime around 1900. I'm sure the deed gives the exact date. It was built by some of my ancestors, though I do not know which one. Grandpa referred to them as Drunk Dutchmen. Which is funny, because so far I have not found our Dutch roots. It wouldn't be surprising though, our area was settled by the Dutch. The house was built on what was originally the family farm. It has been in our family since it was built.
One of our 'next door' neighbors were Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid. I put next door in quotes because they were not directly next to us. I grew up in the country. We lived in the village, but the houses on our street are still a little further apart. Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid were the closest neighbors on one side of mom's house, but between the two houses was a brook and a field that was I remember as being several acres (in reality, it might be an acre or two-if that). Uncle Sid was Grandpa Wager's brother. He was actually our great-uncle, and Aunt Hazel our Great-Aunt.
Laura & I thought Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid's place was the neatest thing. We were there a lot, but I don't think we ever went upstairs in the house. If we did, I do not remember it. I remember the living room, which was at the front of the house. There was a screened porch on the front of the house. Next to the porch was a large evergreen bush. Robins built nests in this, and in the spring when they were guarding their eggs, the momma robins would fly out and attack us if we went to the front door. Trying to avoid the robins, we usually went around to the back porch. Of course, in the summer that had bees. From the rafters of the back porch hung berry baskets, flat carriers to bring things in from the garden, and an assortment of yard tools. The kitchen was at the back of the house; the back porch led right into it. There was a dining room in between the kitchen and the living room; but it was always cluttered, so we didn't stay in there very much.
Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid had a gun shop in their garage. They not only sold rifles, but also fishing poles and accessories for both hunting and fishing. Uncle Sid sold rubber worms. He ordered all kinds of colors and patterns. Whenever he got a new shipment in, he would call us. Laura & I would walk across the bridge and go pick out the worms we liked best. We didn't really fish. Both of us at one point had little fishing poles. I think I tried to fish in the brook a couple of times, and quickly bored of it. Laura tried a few more times; I remember her standing on the edge of the field with Uncle Sid, fishing poles in hand. But we would pick out these new rubber worms- pinks and purples and polka dots. I don't remember what we did with them, though.
The shop had an old time cash register. It had big round buttons that sat on little metal sticks. It made pleasant dinging sounds, and then the drawer would open. We loved to play with that. Aunt Hazel did leather work-she took pieces of leather, pounded designs into them with metal stamps, and turned them into purses and wallets. One area of the shop was devoted to her leather working. She had all kinds of metal stamps-- initials, animals, flowers. She would let us make designs on the scrap pieces of leather. She also had some way of darkening the indent left by the stamp. Laura would play in the shop with Uncle Sid, and I would play with Aunt Hazel's leather supplies.
Aunt Hazel also knitted. I must have taken an interest in her knitting at some point. When I was about 8, she taught me to knit. She would give me her leftover balls of yarn and an old pair of straight needles. She taught me to knit, and to purl. I never really made much- doll blankets and washcloths. The first ball of yarn she gave me was a day glow orange. How I remember that! I always wondered what she had made out of that color. She was patient. I have no idea how long it took to teach me. Under her tutelage, I never really mastered purl, but I did master the knit stitch. Everything I made as a child had the same pattern.
The busy life of a teenager kept me from knitting. Though I still enjoyed walking into the yarn section of the store, staring at the pretty colors, fingering the softness. As a teen my craft energy went into plastic canvas. I didn't give knitting a thought for years. Until, in 2006, my sister announced she was pregnant. I have a few aunts who knit or crochet, and I knew they would be making something for the baby. But I am the baby's only natural aunt- my brother in law has no sisters. I wanted the baby to have something from his or her own aunt. So I went to the craft store and selected a pattern book. I got a little scared when it said 'circular needles'. I didn't know such an animal existed. I went to the needle aisle, and looked at my options. Circular needles are needles joined by a cable. I read the book again, looked at the needles, and decided to go for it. I bought a lot of yarn-I knew I would have to make a practice blanket first. I worked on the practice blanket for several weeks. I had chosen a pattern that was probably not the best one for someone relearning to knit. But I was inspired, and I worked and worked. Once I knew I had the pattern down; I started the real blanket.
Honestly, at this point I have to say Thank God for the Internet. When I had problems, I would consult the 'net. I found several knitting sites, and found explanations of stitches, patterns, even how to change in a new ball of yarn. The blanket I made for Syd was beautiful-it is green and purple and white: alternating rows of purple and green, with white stitches in the rows to make it look like boxes. I was quite pleased with the result.
I gave it to Laura and Andy at their baby shower. When Laura opened it, everyone said 'You made that?'. My sister was so touched. People started asking me how I learned to knit. And then I remembered Aunt Hazel and the orange yarn. Laura declared the blanket was too pretty to use for every day. It would be the baby's keepsake blanket. Which prompted me to make another one for Sydney's Christmas- one that my sister could throw on the floor for playtime.
In the past four years, knitting has become a release for me. I made a blanket for my friend Patricia's granddaughter, Elia. I made blankets for 3 of the 4 dogs in the family (I still have to finish the one for Onyx, but she's not really into blankets). I made a blanket for my friend Barb's granddaughter Tori when she was born several months premature. This past Christmas I presented each of my parents with an afghan, and Aunt Arlene with a shawl. And I have more projects to work on.
My current project is another baby blanket. If you've been reading either of my blogs (and right now I don't know that anyone is), you know my sister is expecting a boy in September. Right now, I am working on his heirloom blanket. I was working on it at the allergy doctor's today, and a woman sat down next to me and watched. She said 'that looks like second nature to you'. I couldn't help but think that Aunt Hazel was smiling down on me. Thank you, Aunt Hazel, for giving me this precious gift.
The house was built sometime around 1900. I'm sure the deed gives the exact date. It was built by some of my ancestors, though I do not know which one. Grandpa referred to them as Drunk Dutchmen. Which is funny, because so far I have not found our Dutch roots. It wouldn't be surprising though, our area was settled by the Dutch. The house was built on what was originally the family farm. It has been in our family since it was built.
One of our 'next door' neighbors were Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid. I put next door in quotes because they were not directly next to us. I grew up in the country. We lived in the village, but the houses on our street are still a little further apart. Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid were the closest neighbors on one side of mom's house, but between the two houses was a brook and a field that was I remember as being several acres (in reality, it might be an acre or two-if that). Uncle Sid was Grandpa Wager's brother. He was actually our great-uncle, and Aunt Hazel our Great-Aunt.
Laura & I thought Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid's place was the neatest thing. We were there a lot, but I don't think we ever went upstairs in the house. If we did, I do not remember it. I remember the living room, which was at the front of the house. There was a screened porch on the front of the house. Next to the porch was a large evergreen bush. Robins built nests in this, and in the spring when they were guarding their eggs, the momma robins would fly out and attack us if we went to the front door. Trying to avoid the robins, we usually went around to the back porch. Of course, in the summer that had bees. From the rafters of the back porch hung berry baskets, flat carriers to bring things in from the garden, and an assortment of yard tools. The kitchen was at the back of the house; the back porch led right into it. There was a dining room in between the kitchen and the living room; but it was always cluttered, so we didn't stay in there very much.
Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid had a gun shop in their garage. They not only sold rifles, but also fishing poles and accessories for both hunting and fishing. Uncle Sid sold rubber worms. He ordered all kinds of colors and patterns. Whenever he got a new shipment in, he would call us. Laura & I would walk across the bridge and go pick out the worms we liked best. We didn't really fish. Both of us at one point had little fishing poles. I think I tried to fish in the brook a couple of times, and quickly bored of it. Laura tried a few more times; I remember her standing on the edge of the field with Uncle Sid, fishing poles in hand. But we would pick out these new rubber worms- pinks and purples and polka dots. I don't remember what we did with them, though.
The shop had an old time cash register. It had big round buttons that sat on little metal sticks. It made pleasant dinging sounds, and then the drawer would open. We loved to play with that. Aunt Hazel did leather work-she took pieces of leather, pounded designs into them with metal stamps, and turned them into purses and wallets. One area of the shop was devoted to her leather working. She had all kinds of metal stamps-- initials, animals, flowers. She would let us make designs on the scrap pieces of leather. She also had some way of darkening the indent left by the stamp. Laura would play in the shop with Uncle Sid, and I would play with Aunt Hazel's leather supplies.
Aunt Hazel also knitted. I must have taken an interest in her knitting at some point. When I was about 8, she taught me to knit. She would give me her leftover balls of yarn and an old pair of straight needles. She taught me to knit, and to purl. I never really made much- doll blankets and washcloths. The first ball of yarn she gave me was a day glow orange. How I remember that! I always wondered what she had made out of that color. She was patient. I have no idea how long it took to teach me. Under her tutelage, I never really mastered purl, but I did master the knit stitch. Everything I made as a child had the same pattern.
The busy life of a teenager kept me from knitting. Though I still enjoyed walking into the yarn section of the store, staring at the pretty colors, fingering the softness. As a teen my craft energy went into plastic canvas. I didn't give knitting a thought for years. Until, in 2006, my sister announced she was pregnant. I have a few aunts who knit or crochet, and I knew they would be making something for the baby. But I am the baby's only natural aunt- my brother in law has no sisters. I wanted the baby to have something from his or her own aunt. So I went to the craft store and selected a pattern book. I got a little scared when it said 'circular needles'. I didn't know such an animal existed. I went to the needle aisle, and looked at my options. Circular needles are needles joined by a cable. I read the book again, looked at the needles, and decided to go for it. I bought a lot of yarn-I knew I would have to make a practice blanket first. I worked on the practice blanket for several weeks. I had chosen a pattern that was probably not the best one for someone relearning to knit. But I was inspired, and I worked and worked. Once I knew I had the pattern down; I started the real blanket.
Honestly, at this point I have to say Thank God for the Internet. When I had problems, I would consult the 'net. I found several knitting sites, and found explanations of stitches, patterns, even how to change in a new ball of yarn. The blanket I made for Syd was beautiful-it is green and purple and white: alternating rows of purple and green, with white stitches in the rows to make it look like boxes. I was quite pleased with the result.
I gave it to Laura and Andy at their baby shower. When Laura opened it, everyone said 'You made that?'. My sister was so touched. People started asking me how I learned to knit. And then I remembered Aunt Hazel and the orange yarn. Laura declared the blanket was too pretty to use for every day. It would be the baby's keepsake blanket. Which prompted me to make another one for Sydney's Christmas- one that my sister could throw on the floor for playtime.
In the past four years, knitting has become a release for me. I made a blanket for my friend Patricia's granddaughter, Elia. I made blankets for 3 of the 4 dogs in the family (I still have to finish the one for Onyx, but she's not really into blankets). I made a blanket for my friend Barb's granddaughter Tori when she was born several months premature. This past Christmas I presented each of my parents with an afghan, and Aunt Arlene with a shawl. And I have more projects to work on.
My current project is another baby blanket. If you've been reading either of my blogs (and right now I don't know that anyone is), you know my sister is expecting a boy in September. Right now, I am working on his heirloom blanket. I was working on it at the allergy doctor's today, and a woman sat down next to me and watched. She said 'that looks like second nature to you'. I couldn't help but think that Aunt Hazel was smiling down on me. Thank you, Aunt Hazel, for giving me this precious gift.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Puppy Dog Tails
I went shopping the other night after work. Kohls was having a big sale. They sent me a coupon for an extra 15% off. They were just begging me to shop! I decided to look for things for my new nephew. Even though he won't be here for a few more months. I did find some great things. I am trying to limit myself, in light of the economic situation at Goofy Grape.
In the past four years, I have gotten very good at locating the girls' racks in the children's department. So I had to reverse my direction and venture into that strange territory- the boys section! Habit made me reach for the purples and pinks; before I brought myself around and said 'no!'. As I looked at the boys' clothes, I noticed a lot of puppies. Great! Being a dog mom, I love to purchase cute things with puppies on them. (I would also like to purchase cute things FOR puppies, but my dogs do not like clothes. They show their distaste in an amusing way, although sometimes it is painful because they bite. So I long ago learned no clothes for the beagles!).
Later that night, I remembered the old nursery rhyme. 'Little girls are made of Sugar & Spice & Everything nice'. And if I remember it correctly, boys are 'snakes and snails and puppy dog tails'. Is that why they put puppies on boys clothes??? Well, either way, little boy Davey is getting clothes with puppies on them. Erich pointed out that most of the outfits I bought had 'jailbird stripes' (stripes is another popular theme with boys' clothes I discovered). Hmm. I'm sure he'll look cute, even if he is a jailbird made of puppy dog tails.
In the past four years, I have gotten very good at locating the girls' racks in the children's department. So I had to reverse my direction and venture into that strange territory- the boys section! Habit made me reach for the purples and pinks; before I brought myself around and said 'no!'. As I looked at the boys' clothes, I noticed a lot of puppies. Great! Being a dog mom, I love to purchase cute things with puppies on them. (I would also like to purchase cute things FOR puppies, but my dogs do not like clothes. They show their distaste in an amusing way, although sometimes it is painful because they bite. So I long ago learned no clothes for the beagles!).
Later that night, I remembered the old nursery rhyme. 'Little girls are made of Sugar & Spice & Everything nice'. And if I remember it correctly, boys are 'snakes and snails and puppy dog tails'. Is that why they put puppies on boys clothes??? Well, either way, little boy Davey is getting clothes with puppies on them. Erich pointed out that most of the outfits I bought had 'jailbird stripes' (stripes is another popular theme with boys' clothes I discovered). Hmm. I'm sure he'll look cute, even if he is a jailbird made of puppy dog tails.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Boys and Girls
My sister, Laura, is expecting her second child in September. Laura is the mother of Sydney, my adorable niece whom I talk about way too much. This little girl has all of us wrapped around her little finger. My heart just sings when I talk to her. Now, most days, she doesn't want to talk to me on the phone. She has a play phone, and she talks to Aunt Amy on that a lot. So when I'm on the phone with my sister, Sydney rarely has anything to tell me.
But those rare times when she does want to talk-- oh how happy she makes me! She will tell me something that is going on, at home or at school. I don't always understand everything she says. Not having my own children, I am not fluent in toddler speak. For the most part, she speaks pretty clearly. You forget you are talking to a three year old. But sometimes, I don't catch what she said. I make encouraging sounds: "Oh yes?", "Really?", "Wow". And when the conversation is over, I ask my sister to translate.
I have learned that talking to Syd can erase the worst day. When I am home and we play together, I feel so happy, so great. I didn't ever think a child could make me feel so wonderful. Not wonderful enough to want to have kids of my own-I believe God wants me to be Aunt Amy, not Mommy. But she has this power over me.
So I was thrilled when my sister announced she was expecting again. For a couple of months we've been wondering if we'd have another girl. Or if maybe, just maybe, this time we'd have a boy. There hasn't been a boy in mom's part of the family since my Grandfather was born, 94 years ago. Oh sure, my Grandfather has a younger brother; and his sisters' both had boys (Grandpa and his brother however, both had daughters). But in the direct line, Grandpa was the last boy. He & Grandma had two daughters. Mom and Dad had my sister and I. And Laura had Sydney. Several times we found ourselves asking 'what would we do with a boy?'
We're going to find out. My sister had her ultrasound yesterday, and she's having a boy. My BIL and Dad are giddy. A little shocked too, I think. Mom & I thought 'let's go shopping!' Everyone is pretty excited. We've never had a boy, but we're going to find out what it's like.
I know what it is to be an Aunt. And I know what a joy my niece has been. I can't wait to meet my nephew and find out what it's like to have a little boy to play with!
But those rare times when she does want to talk-- oh how happy she makes me! She will tell me something that is going on, at home or at school. I don't always understand everything she says. Not having my own children, I am not fluent in toddler speak. For the most part, she speaks pretty clearly. You forget you are talking to a three year old. But sometimes, I don't catch what she said. I make encouraging sounds: "Oh yes?", "Really?", "Wow". And when the conversation is over, I ask my sister to translate.
I have learned that talking to Syd can erase the worst day. When I am home and we play together, I feel so happy, so great. I didn't ever think a child could make me feel so wonderful. Not wonderful enough to want to have kids of my own-I believe God wants me to be Aunt Amy, not Mommy. But she has this power over me.
So I was thrilled when my sister announced she was expecting again. For a couple of months we've been wondering if we'd have another girl. Or if maybe, just maybe, this time we'd have a boy. There hasn't been a boy in mom's part of the family since my Grandfather was born, 94 years ago. Oh sure, my Grandfather has a younger brother; and his sisters' both had boys (Grandpa and his brother however, both had daughters). But in the direct line, Grandpa was the last boy. He & Grandma had two daughters. Mom and Dad had my sister and I. And Laura had Sydney. Several times we found ourselves asking 'what would we do with a boy?'
We're going to find out. My sister had her ultrasound yesterday, and she's having a boy. My BIL and Dad are giddy. A little shocked too, I think. Mom & I thought 'let's go shopping!' Everyone is pretty excited. We've never had a boy, but we're going to find out what it's like.
I know what it is to be an Aunt. And I know what a joy my niece has been. I can't wait to meet my nephew and find out what it's like to have a little boy to play with!
Saturday, May 1, 2010
A Good Vet
I have two beagles. For those who don't know, beagles are motivated by food. Whenever someone is in the kitchen, you can bet there are two dogs, standing right there, hoping. They have earned the nickname 'The Underfoots'. Because if you are in the kitchen, the beagles are underfoot. They don't mean to trip you. But if they were to trip you and score the loot you had, well that would be ok too.
The few times one of them has gotten out of the yard, we grab treats and take off after them. If you want to get Cobalt to come in the doggie door, wag food in front of his nose. I've heard it said that a beagle's nose will get them in trouble. And while they have been known to get on the trail of a bunny in the yard and lose the ability to hear me; if I go out with treats I get their attention again.
Unfortunately, it seems beagles look at the world as one giant bowl of food. The beagles look at something and sniff it to determine if it is edible. If a simple sniff did not satisfy them, they may lick it. When all else fails, the beagle will eat this item. If they throw up, then they know that item was not food. It is not just our beagles. I've heard other beagle parents tell the same tales.
Our dogs have eaten a LOT of stuff. As a puppy, Onyx used to eat rocks. That earned her a trip to see the Vet Lady. When they were puppies they found leftover easter candy and chowed down. They managed to get the mini chocolate eggs out of the foil-ate the chocolate and left the foil. Thankfully they did not get sick! A couple of months ago, Onyx ate a used tea bag. Erich uses his tea bags twice, and he had left it within reach of beagles.
By far, Cobalt is the worse of the two beagles. For Cobalt trash-surfs. He pulls things out of the trash can and eats them. Doing this has enabled him to eat various types of plastic, although deli bags (especially those that once held roast beef) are his preference. Today he trash surfed and may have gotten chicken bones. We aren't completely sure. I wasn't home, and Erich found trash all over, and it looked like missing chicken bones.
It seems every couple of months one dog or another eats something that they probably shouldn't. I try to be very careful, but Erich sometimes slips. He crunches the trash down instead of taking it out. He leaves tea bags around. Each time one of the beagles eats something, we end up calling our vet (when it's during office hours that is). We are usually in a panic. And our vet, Steph, just tells us 'watch them closely. He (she) should be ok'. Steph is always calm. She doesn't judge us, or yell at us for being bad beagle parents. She tells us things to feed the dog to help them, such as 'give them some whole wheat bread to help them pass the item'. It helps us to know that no matter what our dogs eat, we can call Steph. She cares for our dogs as if they were her own. It gives us peace of mind knowing we can call her.
So many thanks to Steph. Since I haven't been successful in training the man to pick up, it is nice to know she's got our back when our dogs explore the world with their mouths!
The few times one of them has gotten out of the yard, we grab treats and take off after them. If you want to get Cobalt to come in the doggie door, wag food in front of his nose. I've heard it said that a beagle's nose will get them in trouble. And while they have been known to get on the trail of a bunny in the yard and lose the ability to hear me; if I go out with treats I get their attention again.
Unfortunately, it seems beagles look at the world as one giant bowl of food. The beagles look at something and sniff it to determine if it is edible. If a simple sniff did not satisfy them, they may lick it. When all else fails, the beagle will eat this item. If they throw up, then they know that item was not food. It is not just our beagles. I've heard other beagle parents tell the same tales.
Our dogs have eaten a LOT of stuff. As a puppy, Onyx used to eat rocks. That earned her a trip to see the Vet Lady. When they were puppies they found leftover easter candy and chowed down. They managed to get the mini chocolate eggs out of the foil-ate the chocolate and left the foil. Thankfully they did not get sick! A couple of months ago, Onyx ate a used tea bag. Erich uses his tea bags twice, and he had left it within reach of beagles.
By far, Cobalt is the worse of the two beagles. For Cobalt trash-surfs. He pulls things out of the trash can and eats them. Doing this has enabled him to eat various types of plastic, although deli bags (especially those that once held roast beef) are his preference. Today he trash surfed and may have gotten chicken bones. We aren't completely sure. I wasn't home, and Erich found trash all over, and it looked like missing chicken bones.
It seems every couple of months one dog or another eats something that they probably shouldn't. I try to be very careful, but Erich sometimes slips. He crunches the trash down instead of taking it out. He leaves tea bags around. Each time one of the beagles eats something, we end up calling our vet (when it's during office hours that is). We are usually in a panic. And our vet, Steph, just tells us 'watch them closely. He (she) should be ok'. Steph is always calm. She doesn't judge us, or yell at us for being bad beagle parents. She tells us things to feed the dog to help them, such as 'give them some whole wheat bread to help them pass the item'. It helps us to know that no matter what our dogs eat, we can call Steph. She cares for our dogs as if they were her own. It gives us peace of mind knowing we can call her.
So many thanks to Steph. Since I haven't been successful in training the man to pick up, it is nice to know she's got our back when our dogs explore the world with their mouths!
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