Instructions on Life from a rescue named Maisie
It is a quiet and fair January day, the light soft and muted, the sky looking like it’s been painted by Monet. The sun is out and it is trying, really, really trying, but it is low in the sky and far away and so it is still damn cold, in the mid-teens, but even …
Maisie and her friend Lily both wear the same fantastic kohl eyeliner, dramatic and sweeping, dark and bold, like twin Egyptian princesses. We, their owners, wonder if they are somehow related because not only do they wear the same eyeliner, they are also about the same size, with similar coloring and markings. Lily is a rich …
I am at the dog park with Maisie and we are waiting for her friend Buttons to arrive. Or more accurately, I am waiting for Buttons to arrive. Maisie is taking turns barking first at Cash, a Border Collie considerably bigger than she is but not quite as fast, and a Shih Tzu-Yorkie (a Yorkzu? a Shihtzie?) …
Continue reading "You Won’t Always Catch the Ball — Play Anyway"
I’m reluctantly starting my yoga on a Monday morning, after a scrambled weekend of mostly work and a bit of social interaction — but one with no yoga and no meditation — and I’m struggling with my motivation. Even though I know what I need more than anything is to take my time on the mat, what I really want more …
My husband and I are getting ready to leave the house to go to a concert in Iowa City. Since this means a two and a half hour round trip on top of the concert itself, we will be gone for the bulk of the evening. It is the longest we have left Maisie on …
Maisie and I are at the park with Will and his dog Sonya and we are reintroducing them after a week or two hiatus. Sonya, a four year old rescued blue heeler mix, is the elder stateswoman, a role model if you will, and she is unimpressed by Maisie’s barking. Will is down on one …
It is midnight in late June, the rain and thunder and lightning relentless for the entire evening, but now there is a break in the action, a clear spot on the radar I have been checking a bit compulsively for the last hour, so I can find five storm-free minutes to take Maisie out for …
I’m sitting on the sidewalk, holding little Maisie, and I can feel her heart damn near about to burst out of her chest, her panting short and clipped and agitated, her tongue (impossibly long for her tiny snout) dangling anxiously to the side. I am sitting on the concrete sidewalk, the March sun weak, all …
Every morning, somewhere in the hazy hours just before sunrise (and sometimes long before sunrise) Maisie sneaks up on the bed, somehow knowing we are both too tired and too far under to notice and kick her off. She presses her body against mine, her legs outstretched towards my husband, and settles in for the …
“How do you feel about drums?” he asks, his voice quiet and calm and steady, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped together and hanging down, his eyes looking into her small face. She looks up at my husband with her steady gaze, sweetly and patiently, her tail wagging ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as …
Barks at Strangers 