A message from Simon's Mommy.

Simon is letting me take the blog this month.  June was busy for him.  He apologizes for writing, but he's been busy rolling in the grass, eating bugs, and running around the yard full speed.

Anyway, thanks Simon.  There's something I wanted to share.

There’s a note that keeps popping up on my desktop.  It says  “A lesson in love: uveitis.”  You might be wondering what on earth that means, but I know, exactly. 

Let me explain.

We got Simon in February from his foster family.  We picked him up on a bitterly cold day in New Jersey.  We (Ian, Anna, and I) were told he had played hard with his brother, and irritated his eye outside in the snow.  Okay we said.  We’d made an appointment with the vet to get him checked over, so we’d mention that to them as well.  The vet gave us ointment, told me to monitor his progress.

The eye refused to get any better. 

It wept.  It looked cloudy, irritated.  The vet was stymied.  They sent us to Cornell University Veterinary Specialists in Stamford, CT to see the Dr. Seth Eaton, an animal ophthalmologist (I had no idea such people existed, but there are three, yes, three our tiny state of Connecticut alone, FYI).

Dr. Eaton was great.   He asked us questions.  He and his staff were amazing with Simon, kind and caring.  He queried us as to where Simon came from, (North Carolina).  He began to piece together a diagnosis and what was causing the uveitis in Simon’s eye. 

He did tests, (not too many).

He prescribed medicine, (not too much).

Uveitis, in case you don’t know, is an inflammation of the uvea or colored front layer of the eye (I may have gotten that wrong, but essentially an inflammation of the front layer of the eye).  It seems the uveitis itself wasn’t the diagnosis, but a symptom of something else that Simon had, perhaps something systemic. 

Evidently there is a parasitic bacterium called bartonella that is rampant in the south.  Dr. Eaton called his friends who are vets in North Carolina, and they confirmed that they are seeing tons of cases of bartonella.  We began to treat Simon for bartonella.

So after months of expensive specialist visits, even more expensive treatments, pills, drops, we are clear (we just got a clean bill of health this past Tuesday.  Simon celebrated with a cheeseburger).  So, while I have to say that we love Simon, I love my husband even more for being so supportive.

So that note on my desktop?  What it means, for me, is that even in difficultly, you can learn to love more.   From the first moment we got him, Simon was family.  We loved him. There was never any question as to what lengths we all would go to in order to insure his health, comfort and happiness.  I’m not sure when it happened, but it did.  The uveitis showed me that family is family (four pawed, or two footed) it doesn't matter.  And we go out of our way to ensure that the ones we love are well cared for.  It’s like Yoda says, “there is no try, just do.”  With family, “there is no question, just love.”

Dogs, and the Pursuit of Art.

I feel I must speak out at the outrageous state of “art” in this country.  Really.  Writhing about in a glass box in the middle of MoMA is not art, (Sorry Tilda, big fan, btw, but really? Just, no).  Why?  It isn’t even original (#SnowWhite for Dog’s sake). 

Anyway, we canines do brilliant, abstract, and thoughtful works of art every single day.  Do we get any credit?  Nope.  Do we get scorned, scolded.  Absolutely. 

So today, I’d like to share with you some of my favorite works. 

This one I call HOLE.

Let me explain.  It’s in Dan’s yard, (Sorry, Dan, but hey, it the name of art my man!).  There is something so irresistible about Dan’s yard, for loads of things, like the very cool animal smells, deer droppings. It also has a fairly large creep factor with Macy barking from behind the walls of the house, which adds tremendously to its appeal.  But, by far and away, my favorite thing in Dan’s yard is his dirt. Thus, my first work, HOLE. 

This hole.  I dig it because I cannot not dig it. 

But this hole isn’t just any hole.  This is my opus.  This hole represents some of my best work.  

I’m only like, five months old, so give me a break.  I’ve got a lot of creativity inside this big head of mine.  And bigger paws.  HA!

This hole is art to me, as it represents the struggle that we find ourselves in now: man/dog vs. nature.  It is symmetrical, and natural, and organic and it smells like dirt.  And I love it.  And I will continue to dig it. Even if it continues to be filled in by Dan. 

This hole must be dug.  It compels me.  It is my Siren.  It is I.  And I am it.  Wait. I think that's Dan's truck.  Gotta go.  

"SHREDDED"

I know, right?  Doesn't it just speak to you?  Sigh, youth today.  

Now, this piece, well, let’s just say this piece came to me spur of the moment (Thanks for leaving the roll of paper towel out after Hellen threw up, dad.  Special shout out to Hellen for vomiting.  I love a good team effort!  I can’t create this stuff in a vacuum after all!) 

Anywho, I saw the paper towel that mom said was carelessly left within my reach as she was talking with dad (what does careless mean btw?)  and I grabbed it. Carpe Diem, and all that.

 I thought about the state of the world, our country and the disassociation that many young people feel today, even though they are connected by electronic devices that begin with a small “i.”  

I got to thinking how I could represent a generation of connected yet separate parts.  So yeah.  I just started to shred.  And I shredded that paper towel.  Quite brill if I do say so myself.  But mom says I should have asked first….there is just no appreciation for the artist and his art these days.

Did DaVinci have to ask  his mom first before he exhumed corpses?

Did Picasso ask for blue paint?

Just saying.

Finally, mom took this one, ( I know, mundane, right?  But she types faster and insisted, plus, thumbs and all…) We call this collaboration “SLEEPY WITH BONE AND FUZZYMAN.” 

Mom likes it but frankly, I think we can do better.  That’s it for now.   I'm expecting a call from the Venice Biennalle.  Ciao Ciao.

Puppy Kindergarten

My mom is making me go to this puppy school.  I don’t know if I like it or not.  In my class there are these two bitches.  Both labra-doodles. Frankly, they’re a little bit kooky for me.  One of them keeps jumping around, like a loaded spring, and barks at every noise.  The teacher says she’s very noise sensitive.  I think she’s nuts. 

The other one’s dad is scary.  He reminds me of a crime boss.  He had the dog (I forgot her name) on a short leash.  And his wife on an even shorter one.   His bark was amazing.  But he makes me a little bit nervous. 

Now that I think about it, maybe the class isn’t for us, but for our parents.  So far my mom has learned to make me look at her, (when she holds a dehydrated liver treat between her eyes, ha!). She’s learned to put a treat right above my head so I sit.  But I am not sure she’s got “heel” down.  

The class is okay, but the other puppy parents don’t let their puppies play off leash.  And the school has a cool playground and I love running around and playing on all the slides, and swings. 

Class is tonight.  I guess I’ll go.  The truth is I find it very tiring, and I get distracted pretty easily.  But I can’t wait to see what my mom learns this week.

Look at how well my mom holds that treat!  She's got this training down perfect!

 

                Snow.  What a Brilliant Invention.

    As March moves (slowly) toward April, I have to admit, I’m a little sad.  I mean, the smells are great and everything, and those snowdrops in mom’s garden sure are tasty, (sorry!). But one thing bugs me.   

    I will miss snow. 

    I wonder, who invented snow?  I mean, it’s brilliant.  Beautiful to look at sure, but also, if you’re thirsty, there ya go.  And have you ever just sat on it, and better yet, smelled it?  It smells great.   Like, if cold had a smell, it’d be snow.  And how many people ever stop and smell the snow?  Not enough. 

   I do some of my best thinking when I sit on a nice pile of snow.  Like, what is the sound of one hand clapping?  Is 78,557 the lowest Sierpinski number (I like prime numbers, but who doesn't?)?  What is my purpose, and why am I here (okay, I’m a little obsessed with existentialism).  But you can do some deep thinking sitting on a nice big fat pile of snow. 

    I wonder maybe, if more people tried sitting and thinking on snow, they’d stop all this crazy fighting around the world.  I mean, the Swiss have a lot of snow, and they hardly ever fight.  Maybe that’s why there’s so much unrest in the Middle East.  Not enough snow.  But what do I know.  I’m just a puppy.

    Slow down people.  Smell the snow.

Hello.  I'm Simon.  And this is what I have to say, about just about everything.

I suppose I should introduce myself.  My name is Simon.  And I have just been rescued by a family in Connecticut.  I was born in South Carolina, (my lineage is as yet, remains undetermined), and fostered in New Jersey.  I am getting used to my new life here in Connecticut.  I have two human siblings (Ian and Anna.  Lovely teens).  And two cat siblings (more on that later).  This is my blog; about my first year,  and how I see the world.

Top Five Reasons Why Pine Cones are Better Than Cats.

1.  Pine cones have a lovely piney smell.  Roy and Hellen, my cat siblings, more often than not, smell like, well, cats (read this as: fancy feast tuna).

2.  If you put a pine cone in your mouth, it feels so cool, with all those tight pretty folds.  Try putting a cat in your mouth. Can you say hairball.  Blech.

3.  A pine cone doesn't puff up, (unless you want it to.  I read in mom's Martha Stewart that they "bloom" indoors, and then, they are so pretty, all symmetrical.  I'm a big fan of fractals by the way).  Cats puff up just to scare you.  This is Roy by the way.

4.  Pine cones don't hiss and scratch.  Period. 

5.  Finally, you can do all sorts of pretty crafts with pine cones.  Like put glitter on them, and hang them from the Christmas tree.  Or make a pine cone welcome wreath! Try putting glitter on Roy.  Try hanging Hellen from the Christmas tree.  You see my point.  Enough said.

Well,  until next time.  Bye.