No, not those funnels. Rather the type that invaded our house last Tuesday. Hard, plastic, evil funnels attached to cute, cuddly puppies. Better known as Elizabethan collars, they are really torture devices for both master and pet; they bruise legs, mark up walls, and have turned both the dogs and monkeys into intolerant, impatient, crabby, crazy creatures. When in her kennel, Jasmine now barks incessantly, her high pitched, “I need attention and now” bark. Unless, she is tired or asleep. Sweet, lovable, “all I want to be is a good dog” Kona has converted into an instigator. The problem? They are prohibited from the rough and tumble play that only canine siblings can appreciate.
People suggested alternatives. They mean well, but anything less would be toast and rendered useless as we attempted to stop a frustrated dog from ripping open a suture. Consider that within the first twenty-four hours, we had reinforced the evil funnels with generous amounts of duct tape.
So we walk to manage the chaos. Walking is both good mental and physical exercise. My parents walk for hours at a time. They have walked all over the world for more than fifty years. I have meant to ask what their most interesting walk has been. Christian tugs the girls along on separate jaunts around our neighborhood each morning. Our evening routine once again involves a walk. We reconnect, which is important. It makes us better parents. Even time away from the pups includes walking; our tour of national parks and monuments this summer will involve hiking.
Kona and Jasmine are now genetic cul-de-sacs. Ken says one day they will thank us for this. But not anytime in the immediate future.
Kona as in coffee, Jasmine as in tea. Two Golden Retriever sisters. Ken suggested Hazel and Gracie, in homage to two hurricanes that battered the South Carolina coast decades ago much as we anticipated our girls would unleash their energy onto our home. Cute, catchy, I thought. But Jasmine it would be for “curly girl.” Why? Because Christian liked it, that’s why. And, Kona for “Bella Jr.” Kona means lady in Hawaiian. I liked it; it stuck.
“Coffee, tea or milk?” makes me think of stewardesses…I mean, flight attendants… which leads to planes and travel. I love to travel. I obsess about travel. I was three-months-old when I was headed on a transoceanic adventure to Australia. When, as my mother tells it, a young nun played her guitar and sang to me to keep me from crying. I recall the days when a 17-hour nonstop flight was unheard of. What’s the allure? Tell me who would not find it intriguing to stop for refueling in Tashkent, U.S.S.R., where a plane from far away was so coveted by the natives peering from behind a chain link fence? Or look forward to stepping out into the bright tropic sun in Pago Pago, to peruse the puka shell necklaces displayed on the tarmac, sold by native women dressed in muumuus?
So, Coffee, Tea, or Dog…a record of our lives, our family, our adventures with our new pups. A way to share, reflect, remember, laugh, and maybe even cry. Fear not those who do not covet Canis lupus familiaris as I will write about other topics too such as travel (did I mention that I really, really like to travel?), food (need I say more?), architecture (trust me, it’s big), kidz stuff (ok, PRE-teen stuff), and even work (technology is cool and inevitable so embrace it!).
We are experienced pet owners (I’ll write about Pawley later). But little did we know about the culture of DOG TIMES TWO. Follow us on this adventure…