Thursday, March 25, 2010

Where’s Molly?

It’s hard to believe that Molly has been with us for only about three weeks now; she has made herself so at home that it feels much longer than that. If you have wondered, I will tell you: yes, she is just as soft as she looks, and yes, she’s even cuter than her pictures. We have certainly had a great time with her. We’ve even had a good time with her name. In addition to the obvious, “Good Golly, Miss Molly”, we have other silly things that we say that prove that we have finally snapped. When she’s being especially sweet and perky, we call her “Molly Anna!” (I’m sure Walt Disney and Haley Mills won’t mind.) Also, when she has been playing outside and it’s time for her to come inside, in a flashback to my playground days, I yell, “Molly Olly oxen free!” I know; we are easily amused at our house.

But most of the time, I am heard to ask, “Where’s Molly?” I get concerned when I can’t find her, because when she disappears, you just never know what she’s up to.

Is she plotting to take Toffee’s stick away while he’s still chewing it?


Is she stalking Dee Dee, hoping that my Mom will drop a piece of meat?

Is she aggravating Chewka Marie?


Has she parked her fanny in Dee Dee’s favorite chair outside, while she watches the squirrels and birds?


Is she attacking the water hose while Alan waters some plants, nearly drowning herself in the process?


Has another sandal lost its strap due to her uncontrollable need to gnaw?


Has she snapped another branch off of one of my beloved blue berry bushes?


Believe it or not, she isn’t always causing mischief. I have gained a healthy admiration for her ability to sleep just about anywhere.

So where’s Molly?

She might be under the snack bar in the kitchen…


She might be napping on Toffee’s bed in Dee Dee’s room…


And after watching Dee Dee cook dinner and hoping for a snatchel, she finally gives up…




In an effort to cut down on some of the mud in the yard, Alan and I “worked like dogs” to put in a mulch ring around one of the trees. And where was my little helper, Molly? Toffee pointed out that she was passed out by the storage shed…




And later, she had to try out our handiwork before we even finished!


After my long day of yard work, I’m tired and ready to go to bed. Where’s Molly?

Molly’s passed out behind the exercise machine/coat rack in Robert’s office!


I guess being so cute and cuddly is exhausting!

Monday, March 8, 2010

Make Room for Molly! (By Lori)

What do you do when you have so many pets that you have to constantly sweep and mop the floor and you complain that there are too many pets? Simple! You get another one! We would like to introduce Miss Molly Marie Woodbury, a 12-week(?) old Golden Retriever who has come to live with us:

“Good Golly, Miss Molly!”


“How could this happen?” those who know us have asked. “Wasn’t there enough mayhem at their house?”

“I know why you did it,” my sister told me. “It hit me when I saw a commercial for one of those ‘Buddies’ movies on television.”

“Well, you’re partly right,” I confessed. “She did immediately make me think of the ‘Air Buddies’ when I saw her, and I have been singing the song from ‘Snow Buddies’ all week. But, you must know that I did not wake up one morning thinking that I just needed to find a Buddy that day. It just kind of happened.”

That’s pretty much like a lot of things at our house: not always planned, just kind of happen (like Chewka Marie). Here’s the story: We had neighbors move in the house just across the fence of our back yard a couple of weeks ago. I had noticed the two little chihuahuas because they loved to come to the back fence and exchange barks with Toffee and Cookie. And then… I saw her. She didn’t bark like the others did; she just sat on the back porch, chewing on a stick, lolling around and being mellow.

“How cute!” I thought and called her over. She came running to me with all her puppy might, ready for petting. She was the happiest little critter I have ever seen.

Later, when we saw the new neighbors out, Robert and I leaned over the fence and introduced ourselves (I hope they don’t think we are crazed stalkers). They seemed really nice and we got all their family scoop, gave all our family scoop, and then we started talking about their dogs. Long story short, Molly (whom they called Emmy), was supposed to be their daughter’s puppy, but she had something come up where she couldn’t take her, so she had asked them to keep her. Unfortunately, their landlord didn’t have a problem with the smaller ones, but Emmy couldn’t stay.

What can I say? We are just suckers! I have accepted the fact that my white tile floor will forever need mopping and that I cannot just take off on a whim, but this little girl needed a home, and we were the place. Besides, I was not the only one who was smitten with Molly. When Robert and I married, he had a Golden Retriever named Ralph who lived to be 14 years old. I have never seen Robert cry as hard as he did the day that Ralph passed away. I think Molly brings back some fond memories for him.

Ralph and Mandy (about age 5), fishing with Dad:

Molly has been great! She lets us know when she wants to go out and has a great time exploring the yard:

She has taken to her crate:

She definitely feels comfortable:

She loves her chew toys:

And she has found a spot between the sofa and the wall that is a perfect fit:

The only problems: Cookie and Toffee. I knew that Cookie wouldn’t be thrilled, but she usually does her own thing anyway. I truly thought that Toffee would be thrilled to have a playmate, but I was sorely wrong. Her puppy pounces get on his nerves to no end, and he lets her know it.

“Good! You can just stay in there!”

My strategy has been to limit their interaction, except under controlled circumstances, and to relegate everyone to a different part of the house or yard the rest of the time so that no one gets hurt. Molly has learned already not to pester Cookie too much, and hopefully she will soon learn to not pester Toffee and just do her own thing. Hopefully Cookie and Toffee will learn that Molly is not a threat, but she is here to stay, and just learn to like it. I am keeping Chewka Marie out of the whole thing by taking her outside if Molly is inside, or putting Molly outside when Chewka is inside playing. Molly has discovered Chewka, and loves to sit outside Chewka’s cage and watch her. I’m hoping she will someday get to the point that she can interact with Chewka like Toffee and Cookie do, but I’m not going to push it.

So there you go…For anyone who has ever wondered if we were just a little bit crazy, it has now been confirmed. But, like my sister told me this weekend, “Well, personally, I think anyone who can’t love a puppy must have doo-doo in their soul!”

I wouldn’t want that to happen to me!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Musings on Becoming a Grandparent (By Lori)

Today it became official: We are happily anticipating the arrival of a new family member. I had already figured out that my daughter was expecting when she and her husband were here for Christmas Eve. (Really? You’re not drinking your favorite soda with dinner, and instead you want water? Really? Something’s afoot!) But we were summoned to the Emergency Room on the day after Christmas, and after the loss that we all experienced last summer, it was a little hard to get excited, even when we were told that the doctors were cautiously hopeful. The silent prayer of every heart was, “Please, Lord, let this baby be all right. We can’t go through this again.”

Well, today it was officially okay. My Little Foo Foo has successfully carried it through the first trimester, and the doctor heard a strong heartbeat today, so this grandmother can start getting excited! I am excited for my daughter and her husband, for they have not come to this point easily, and it means so much to them. I am tickled for their happiness.

Mandy and Jeromy: My Grandbaby's Parents

My daughter does not complain about the discomforts of pregnancy. She delights in her morning sickness, for that means that she still has a baby. She has told me, “Even the worst day of your pregnancy is better than the day that you miscarry.” She has a grateful heart.

I must admit that I’m tickled for my happiness, too, for I have always heard that grandchildren are the reward that you reap for surviving parenthood. I am ready to start reaping!

I have already started making plans for “Pod”. I have begun hand quilting the John Deere quilt and am prepared to switch gears and work on the floral/paisley quilt if the next ultrasound dictates. And, oh, the cute baby things out there! I may stimulate an economic recovery all by myself!

That’s the wonderful thing about grandchildren: you get to do the things that you wanted to do for your own kids, but were too busy being responsible parents to do them. Tons of toys? I wish I could have done that for my kids, but I was occupied with buying school supplies, and clothes, and food. Tons of fun? I’m sure we could have had more fun, but I was busy checking their homework, making them brush their teeth, and trying to mold them into wonderful people. That’s their job now, and I get to do the fun stuff!

I can’t wait until Pod gets to come to my house for sleepovers. Pod and I will revel in our decadence by eating dessert without finishing dinner first and by staying up two hours past our bedtime. Finally! Someone who will watch “Snow Buddies” and “Santa Buddies” with me (the greatest movies ever made, by the way). Oh, the fun we will have!

I truly will be able to tell Pod that I was madly in love with Pod before he/she was ever born. I am hopelessly smitten, and so very, very grateful. To all of those who have yet to live this dream I would say, “Keep the faith. Hold fast to your dream. One way or another, it can come true. And when it does, it will mean even more.”

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A Little Taste of “Home”

To most people in other parts of the country, our little 5 or 6 inches of snow probably seems laughable. After all, when I watch the news, I’m starting to get the idea that anything less than a foot hardly seems worth mentioning. But you have to realize that here in Texas, this is quite a big deal.


The snow itself wasn’t totally unexpected: each year we seem to get our one dusting of snow for the year either on, or around, Valentine’s Day. So today’s snow wasn’t the big surprise. The big surprise had already come on Christmas Eve – our first white Christmas in this area for over 80 years. Today’s surprise was related to the amount of snow that we had. The 5:00 news report was saying that if we got just ½ inch more, today would be the snowiest day on record for our area, and we have already had the fifth snowiest winter ever recorded. Wow! (For the record, I say, “So much for global warming.” If the polar ice caps are still melting after this, we can just relocate all of the polar bears to the lower 48 states, and they’ll feel right at home!)

Toffee went out in the snow a little bit, but he was content to watch mostly from the porch:


Cookie, on the other hand, was all over the yard, sniffing and hunting:


I trudged out and put out some bird seed. Word soon spread, and the birds waited in the trees for those stinking dogs to go back inside:


Cookie decided to make them wait, and she parked her fanny right next to the bird seed:


What was Chewka Marie’s reaction to the snow? She had totally disappeared under her “linens”:


After lifting the corner, I could see just a little sliver of tail:


Then, a little face popped up:


Then, a truly annoyed little squirrel told her mother to leave her alone and let her sleep!


I have to say, I love this winter, and not just because the snow is pretty; it’s more than that for me. It truly is one of those small blessings that can lift my spirits. You see, we went to Wyoming a couple of years ago on a trip, and I fell in love with that area. Texas just does not feel like home anymore – it’s growing more crowded by the day, with our wonderful air quality I have sinus infections all the time, and the 101 degree days (for ten days in a row) in the summer are just killing me. So I’ve been dreaming of Wyoming, or Idaho, or Montana, for quite some time now. Whenever I read my “country living” magazines, I also find places like Virginia, Wisconsin, or Minnesota intriguing. There’s just something about living in a place that actually has seasons that appeals to me. However, I am often reminded by my husband and others that his job is here, and our family is here, and we own a home here, etc.

And I am often reminded that all of those places that I love have quite a bit of snow.

“Do you think you could actually handle that?” people will often ask me. “Your arthritis would probably be even worse than it is now.”

“I don’t know if I would like it or not,” I used to answer.

Now I feel like I’m at least getting the chance to have a small “test run” at living elsewhere, and so far, it’s okay. If nothing else, at least I can stomp through the snow, and for just a moment, I am “home”

Friday, January 29, 2010

The Story of Chewka Marie: A Squirrel's Tail

This is the story of a Special Little Squirrel, upon whom was bestowed an unusual destiny. Her life began simply enough: she was born in the top of a tall mulberry tree at The House Next Door in the land of Texas. She was just a baby, living in the nest with her brothers and sisters, when a life-changing event happened.

In one moment she was safe and sound in her tree, and then, in an instant she was falling! Down, down, down she went, until at last she landed with a thud. She wasn’t quite sure how it happened, for she never saw anything. At only four weeks of age, her eyes had not yet opened! All she knew was that her nose was bleeding and her head ached fiercely.

“Help! Help!” she squeaked. She felt a nudge. Had someone come to help? Another nudge. The nudge was slobbery and wet, and a foul, hot breath was blowing across her. Oh, no! She realized that it was not help at all, but instead, she had been found by The Slobbering Beast!

“Cookie! Stop that!” a loud, low voice said. The Man had heard her cries for help and had come to investigate. His hand was large, yet gentle, and he picked The Little Squirrel up and carried her into his house.

“What are you doing?” she heard a soft voice ask.

“A little squirrel fell out of a tree,” The Man told The Woman. “I’m trying to give it some water.”

“You’re going to drown it like that!” The Woman told The Man. “Let me call Russell Feed Store and find out what we should do.”

The Woman disappeared for awhile, and The Man continued to hold The Little Squirrel. It wasn’t long before The Little Squirrel could hear The Woman bustle in. “Let’s see if you like this,” The Woman said, and put something in The Little Squirrel’s mouth.

It didn’t taste like the milk that she was used to (did The Woman say that it was kitten formula?), but it was warm and good, and at least she wasn’t hungry anymore. She just wished that her head would quit pounding!


“She’s going to have quite a bump on that head,” she heard The Man say. “We’ll need to make her a bed.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” offered The Woman. “I’ll get a plastic cart drawer and some old T-shirts and towels.” And with that, The Little Squirrel was soon nestled in a nest that was even softer than the nest in the tree.

But The Little Squirrel was so cold! It took awhile for The Man and The Woman to discover that baby squirrels cannot regulate their body heat, but eventually they realized that she was cold and put a desk lamp over her nest. Soon, she was warm and cozy, and despite her headache, she soon fell asleep.


“Do you think she’ll be okay?” The Woman whispered.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” The Man cautioned. “She took quite a big fall.”

As destiny would have it, The Little Squirrel did make it through that first night. And the next. And the next! Her days were filled with snuggling in her nest and having The Woman pick her up and hold her a lot!

And, of course, there was meal time! It took a little getting used to, but before long The Little Squirrel was grabbing the syringe full of milk and drinking it all by herself. Most of the time it was The Woman who brought the milk, but sometimes it was The Boy and The Grandmother feeding her when The Woman went to work. She still could not see, but she knew each person by their voice, and she could even tell when The Slobbering Beast was near.


Then wonder of wonders! Just one week after falling from the tree, The Little Squirrel’s eyes opened. She could see! The Man was just as big as he sounded, almost as tall as her tree! The Woman was short and round, and she looked just as soft as her voice.




“We’ll have to build a cage now,” The Man suggested. There were the sounds of much hammering and banging coming from outside, and shortly thereafter The Man proudly carried in a large structure. It was wood and wire, with a large tree branch inside, and a platform which was just perfect for sleeping. The Little Squirrel liked her new nest.

The Little Squirrel slept in her new nest a lot of the time, but throughout the day The Woman would say, “It’s play time,” and The Little Squirrel would get to run around and explore the rest of the house. There were so many things to see, smell, and chew! Even though The Woman would squeal, “No!” whenever The Little Squirrel would take a bite out of a chair, The Little Squirrel couldn’t help herself.

The Woman had been calling The Little Squirrel by the name of “Nutsey”, but after she took a couple of bites out of some more furniture, The Woman decided to name her “Chewka” instead.

She was getting to chew real food, too. Chewka was getting too big to just drink milk, so The Woman brought her grapes to eat. This was even better than milk! It wasn’t long before Chewka was also eating lettuce, apples, raisins, carrots, "monkey biscuits", and of course, pecans (out of the shell to start with). The best part of living with The Man and The Woman was that Chewka never went hungry, and she grew bigger with each passing day.

Chewka grew and grew, and as she grew larger and wiser, she began to practice her squirrelly skills. One of her favorite activities was when The Woman gave her a whole pecan or an acorn. It might take 10 minutes or so before Chewka found just the right hiding spot, but she always did, and when she was sure of her hiding place, she would give the hidden treasure a little pat and hop away. Sometimes she hid pecans in the sofa cushions, and sometimes she hid a nut in The Woman’s shirt pocket (while The Woman was still wearing the shirt!). But her favorite place to hide a pecan was in The Man’s shoes; however, she was pretty sure it was not his favorite place, as she often heard him yelling.

Chewka also practiced making herself disappear, just in case there might be a hawk nearby. She would stretch herself out, long and low, sure that she blended in with the wicker chair or the arm of the couch. “You can try to hide,” The Woman would say, “But I think you are a little plump for it to do much good.” Chewka did not pay The Woman any mind, and sure enough, the hawks never found her.


Chewka also liked stretching out on top of her nest. It was fun to be so high and look down on everything!



Chewka was just a few months old when The Coyote came to live with them. The Coyote was the son of The Slobbering Beast, and although he had gone elsewhere to seek his fortune, this prodigal son had returned within a few short months. Chewka was terrified of The Coyote, for she knew that he stalked the squirrels who lived outside unmercifully, and made quite the game of chasing them. However, The Woman decreed that any beast caught messing with her beloved squirrel faced the penalty of the dungeon or banishment, so both The Coyote and The Slobbering Beast, although curious, did not bother Chewka.

Chewka loved it when The Daughter came to visit. The Daughter was pretty and full of life, and she always had interesting stories to tell. When Chewka was little, The Daughter would pet Chewka, and even let Chewka sit on her shoulder.

But, alas, as Chewka got older, The Daughter would squeal, “She’s going to jump on me!” and didn’t pet Chewka anymore. Chewka began to suspect that The Daughter was a wee bit jealous.

“You love that squirrel more than you love us,” The Daughter would say.

“I don’t love her more than you guys,” The Woman would answer. “But she is the one creature on Earth who truly needs me.”

“Hmmph!” The Daughter would sniff, not the least bit amused.

But Chewka was amused, and she would give her tail a couple of good shakes in The Daughter’s direction, just for good measure. It secretly pleased Chewka to know that she held such a special place in The Woman’s heart.

There were times, however, that Chewka could tell that The Woman was not happy. The Woman did not like the chunks and bite marks in her furniture, so The Man made a large tray to sit on top of the table, to protect it.


Sometimes The Woman was tired, or sick, and didn’t want to play, but The Woman knew that Chewka needed to come out of her nest and run around or eat. Most of all, there were times that Chewka really needed to potty on her special potty blanket that The Woman kept out for her instead of at the bottom of her nest.

“It sure would be nice to not have to take care of someone the second I get up,” Chewka sometimes heard The Woman say sadly. Thankfully, The Woman did not say this often, and Chewka always got to come out and play, even when The Woman said this.

The Woman seemed obsessed with kissing Chewka. Each morning, as The Woman lifted Chewka out of her nest, The Woman would kiss Chewka first on her head, then on her neck, and sometimes even on her soft, fuzzy belly. It tickled, but Chewka let The Woman kiss her, for The Woman was determined to do so, and sometimes Chewka even kissed her back. Chewka would grab The Woman’s finger and ever-so-gently nibble it with her teeth; sometimes she would gently nibble The Woman’s cheek. This seemed to bring The Woman great joy.






One day, Chewka noticed that the front door was open; only the glass door was shut. She waddled down the hall and looked out. The Coyote and The Slobbering Beast were in the front yard with The Man, and they seemed to be having the most tremendous time. Chewka wondered what it would be like to have such fun. “Oh, honey! Please don’t look so sad!” Chewka heard The Woman say.


"I’m going to take Chewka outside tomorrow,” The Woman told The Man that night.

“You’re crazy!” he replied. “She’ll run away.”

“I don’t think she will,” The Woman said. “I know her, and I trust her. And even if she did, it’s a sad thing to think that a little squirrel might never know what it’s like to feel the grass under her feet.”

The next day, The Woman came and gently lifted Chewka out of her nest. “It’s a special day!” The Woman told her.

They went out the back door of the house, and there it was: The Outside. It was bigger than Chewka had ever imagined. And so noisy! Chewka was used to the sound of the washing machine, the dishwasher, and even the sound of car chases on television; this was different! All those birds screeching and squawking! And that loud sound that they made with their wings when they all decided to fly off at the same time! This wasn’t fun at all! Chewka was terrified.

“It’s okay,” The Woman reassured her. “We’ll go in for now and try again tomorrow.”

And sure enough, the next day The Woman took Chewka back outside. They sat on the back porch together and The Woman fed Chewka sunflower seeds while they watched the birds and other squirrels eat. Each day they stayed outside a little longer each time until one day Chewka summoned enough courage to leave The Woman’s lap. At first she simply explored the back porch, but eventually she found herself nibbling on grass and exploring the yard. The Man’s tomatoes, although not much to look at by the end of the summer, were quite fascinating (and tasty, too!). Chewka came to love their time outside, and although there were rare occasions in which she didn’t want to go inside, for the most part, she learned to come back when The Woman called, thus assuring that The Woman would be willing to bring her back outside the next day.




And thus were the days of Chewka Marie, The Special Little Squirrel. Instead of facing death at four weeks of age, she came to live inside, as part of a human family. She never knew what it was to be hungry, or thirsty, or cold, or lonely. In return she brought laughter and fun into The House. And above all, she inspired wonder and awe in The Woman, whose heart was ever grateful that she was able to share her life with this small, yet noble, creature whom God had created.

And they lived happily ever after!

"All things bright and beautiful
All creatures great and small
All things wise and wonderful
The Lord God made them all! "
--Cecil Frances Alexander--