Tag Archives: Pets

Meet Henry!

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I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of the Tharp household: Henry!

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My son is an eight-and-a-half-week-old Jack Russell, and the sweetest puppy imaginable.

He is still too small to get up on my bed (if he fell it would be a Henry pancake!) but you would think he had epilepsy the way he clamors to reach me when my parents come into my room.

Henry does tons of sleeping. Actually I’m looking at him right now, and he’s out. Anyone with kids, be it human or canine, knows how dangerous a baby sleeping in the daytime can be.

It’s gonna be a long night.

Margaret Elizabeth Tharp, June 6, 2005-March 21, 2017

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As soon as Dad got back from the vet, any mementos of Maggie were put away. For now… Things like her bed, made by Serta. Yes, Serta. It was made for arthritic dogs, with memory foam and a short step up.

Her bed was next to the head of mine. That’s why I needed my white noise machine. If she were human, Maggie would definitely have needed a C-PAP machine! But last night: Silence.

It was almost eerie. I kept thinking I saw the shadow of something stocky. And I could swear I heard snoring.

It’s funny how your mind plays tricks on you. I had accepted the fact that my daughter was gone, but I guess my heart hadn’t.

Here is a post from “Pizza and Peonies,” my sister’s blog. I’d like to introduce you to the extremely goofy/quirky/sweet/devilish Maggie. Actually, there are tons more adjectives depending, on who you ask. Not all post appropriate!!

They MUST Have Dogs in Heaven

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I’m expecting to get lots of comments for this post as the subject is religion based and it’s a controversial topic. You don’t agree with me? That’s perfectly fine. Maybe we can start a dialogue. You list your reasons against and I will list my reasons.

Maggie’s health is rapidly declining. She has always been prone to skin issues. She went to the vet with yet another skin issue a couple weeks ago, but the vet couldn’t identify it. On the blood work, though, he found something else. My sweet dog is in liver failure.

I know a vet’s goal is to save animals, but when he found a problem with her liver, he had a huge list of treatments. Maggie is eleven! After my soul searching by me watching her, my parents and I have decided that it’s time for the one last trip to the vet L. But it’s for the best. Besides the skin issue, she hasn’t been eating and there has been a stinky mess in my room when I wake up almost every day this week.

With all of our pets, it is Dad who always gets that job but he’s on a business trip right now. It will have to wait three or four days—just enough to spoil her rotten.

Now my question to my readers: Do dogs go to heaven?

 

My opinion? Heaven is paradise where everything is perfect, right?

 

How could a place be perfect without our canine friends?

 

So, it will probably be in fifty or sixty years (Mom’s side of the family lives forever), but I know I’ll be reunited with my sweetheart.

Let Them Eat Whipped Cream!

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When I first saw the prompt “cake,” I was going to take a pass on a post. Sure, I like cake, but you can’t write an entire post on how much you enjoy something.

Isn’t it odd how post inspirations come out of nowhere? It’s like some blog genie swoops down and plants an idea into your head. Although sometimes he is MIA, but this morning he was on duty.

Let me set scene. Pippa has enjoyed a couple of what Starbucks calls puppachinos, which is literally whipped cream in a cup. This morning Maria, my aide who helps me in the morning, and I decided that Maggie needed a treat. Sweetie would get a puppachino, too.

But me describing the event wouldn’t do it justice.

Here’s my girl, enjoying a well-deserved treat.

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Although Honey will probably need a walk every day this week to burn off the calories, and if there are any vets reading this, they are cringing, doesn’t everyone deserve an indulgence now and then?

Hey, it’s kind of like cake!!

P.S. When it was gone, Maggie was looking for more. Like Mother like daughter.

The Birthday Girl

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Sorry–Maggie wouldn’t hold still for a birthday photo.

Today Maggie is 11. Though she doesn’t act it, technically she is 77. Although she would have qualified for an AARP card 23 years ago and countless other senior discounts long ago, my daughter doesn’t act her age. Sure, she has gray on the tips of her ears, but if I didn’t know, I’d never guess her age. She plays with Pippa, often instigating the play like she were still a puppy herself.

How fast 11 years have gone. I was a child of 22 when I got her. Both she and her brother were available. The breeder put both dogs on my wheelchair tray. Sweetie climbed my shoulder, and that was that. I was smitten.

Happy Birthday, Maggie. You’ll always be my pup.

Why Can’t We Be Friends?

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When you think of buddies, you think of human friends. The Ricardos and the Mertzes, Doug and Deacon from “The King of Queens.” The cast of “Friends.”

But do all buddies need to be human? Not even a week ago (oh my gosh) our family got another dog since we lost Wayne in December and Maggie is technically mine. The new puppy is a mutt, although a cute mutt. I forgot about how mutts could be. And how, let’s say, exuberant, all puppies are.

Pippa (named after Kate Middleton’s sister; my sister who absolutely loves the Royals) is definitely into absolutely everything and finds entertainment in anything. Anything that isn’t a dog toy is fair game for one. This could be my shoes (more than once I have felt sharp puppy teeth on my toes) or the tassels of my backpack.

On imagining how the two dogs would get along, I thought being 11, Maggie would have no patience for a puppy. But I was wrong. I’m sure Pippa presses her buttons because she just doesn’t take “no” for an answer. Although Maggie takes it and takes it, you can sure tell when she has had enough. There is a warning bark and Pippa calms right down.

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What I imagined. Courtesy 1.bp.blogspot.com

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What we got. Courtesy screenrant.com

Here’s a sample of their thoughts about the situation:

Maggie: One question: When does she go back? I thought I would spend my senior years in peace and relaxation. I don’t ask for much; naps in my favorite corners. My ratty stuffed animals. My people.

Pippa: I LOVE IT HERE…. Wait… I see something fun….a sort of jug. It says “MILK”. It’s empty so I beg my parents to toss it here. They do. That’s some fun. For now. Wait! I didn’t see that rug by the front door! Let’s go see…

Stay tuned. Hopefully Pippa and Maggie can reach a middle ground.

The Elder Statesman

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You already know that I am the mother of a ten-year-old Corgi named Maggie. But we also have a family dog—Wayne, also a Corgi. You didn’t read his name wrong. His name is actually Wayne. The name is courtesy of my middle sister, Sarah, which really explains some things.

When I got Maggie, the breeder said that though Wayne was older, when she grew up, my dog would rule the roost. He said females are just more dominant. Dad said that was just like people. And there was a huge eye roll, probably, and an Oh please from Mom.

But what Bill, the breeder, said is completely true. Of the two dogs, Maggie is definitely in charge. As they got older, Wayne spent more and more time sunning himself in the Southern California sunshine. Coincidence? I think not.

Wayne is now thirteen. He is now thirteen and a half, actually. My jaw drops whenever I see this saint of a dog. He is now elderly. When I look at him now I see a dog who limps and is extremely slow moving because of a bad foot.

I can hardly talk about it, but when he is in doggie heaven I hope I remember him as the rambunctious little puppy amusing himself by tossing pebbles to himself, not a deaf dog who has a hard time walking. He is my daily reminder that time marches on. That, and what unconditional love looks like: Maybe not perfect, but just right.

Wayne.

Wayne.

Enough is Enough!

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You know the feeling when you are sick—not physically sick, mind you, you’re just wishing a particular something would leave and not return? Well, here are my things that if they left Planet Earth I would be thrilled. Warning: I’m not crazy, just random.

  • Storm Track on KABC: Since when is 1/8 of an inch of rain a storm? I can feel the rest of the country laughing at those weak Southern Californians.
  • Ripped jeans: It’s not exactly chic to dress like a slob.
  • “The Bachelor”/”The Bachelorette”: There isn’t that much crying at a funeral.
  • TLC: Okay, I admit I watch it; after all, isn’t it The Learning Channel? Still, how are “My Gypsy Wedding” and “Return to Amish” educational?
  • The word “viral”: Viral is something that makes you miss a day or two of school. Viral can’t “go.”
  • Pop-Ups: If I want you, I will click on you.
  • Game invites on Facebook: See above.
  • Christmas now beginning in September: Excuse me, but isn’t Christmas in winter?

And my personal favorite:

I’m embarrassed for them.

  • Dressing up pets as children: They are animals, after all (sorry, Maggie)!

 

Image: Pinterest

My Daughter

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What a character!

Margaret Elizabeth, my birthday girl,

Ten, and ears graying, with white eyelashes,

She sleeps a lot,

And that’s technically seventy,

An aging Corgi,

Yet my baby will always be my little baby,

No matter her age.

 

Can dogs smile?

Yes they can,

Nub, tail cut off at the quick, nub wags madly,

A glow in her eye,

Upturned muzzle,

A delighted expression on her face,

My daughter grabs a toy,

Thrilled that I’m home.

So Ridiculous I Forgot To Laugh, Part 1

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This post is inspired by a story on “Good Morning America” today.

I used to have a service pooch. Lyra would make me more independent, I thought. My canine would pick up things when I dropped them. Push elevator buttons. Open doors. Just provide companionship. However, my dumb mutt wanted absolutely no part of it. We returned my “companion” and a couple of months later I purchased Maggie. Everyone lived happily ever after.

Although mine wasn’t especially bright, I love seeing service animals. Whatever the condition—visually impaired, or like me, needing help overall—they do provide a valuable service.

It is because of that that I found the story this morning so ridiculous. It’s about people cheating, saying their household companion is a service animal so their pets accompany them on planes at no cost. They obtained necessary paraphernalia: vest, certificate from a bogus training program as well as tags that will be fastened to their collar. From a certified agency? No. From online!