Bebop and I nestled in to take our holiday photos for Christmas cards this year. This was literally the ONLY photo that turned out. And it wasn’t all Bebop’s fault, either. I mean, yes, some of them, she was making a weird face with her ears back. Or she would lick my ear right as the shutter clicked. But half of the fault is my own–I kept making this stupid pirate eye with one eye squinted smaller than the other. Two lessons learned here: 1) I should stay behind the camera, not in front. 2) My dog is not a child…I should stop treating her as such.
Well, the latter is more of a reminder than a lesson learned. A reminder I have to tell myself daily.
No matter how often I wipe down those eyes of hers…they remain gross and crusty and have a faint reddish hue. As if she hit the sauce a bit too hard the night before and is paying for it in saggy, baggy, crusty eyes.
It’s ok, Bebop. All us ladies have been there. Maybe I should slice some cucumbers and the two of us can have a spa day. I’ll paint your toenails if you paint mine.
While I visited home a few weeks ago, Bebop got to play with my niece, Adelynn for the first time. Well, actually, they met initially at Christmas, But Addie was too surrounded by sugar and presents to care about the chihuahua nipping at her heels. And not that I can blame her–I mean, PRESENTS! And COOKIES! And CANDY CANES! It still doesn’t get any better than candy canes and hot chocolate in my book.
But on this trip, the two really took to each other. Bebop liked having another creature to run and play with and Adelynn liked having an “Addie sized dog” as she liked to call Bebop.
Las week, apparently Adelynn and Bridget were looking at my blog and Bridget was showing Addie her the photos from her photo session. Adelynn saw Bebop’s picture first and yelled, “It’s Bebowp!” Then she saw her own photos (which were obviously much more exciting) to which she exclaimed, “And dere’s Addie! And Auwnt Colleen! We look alike…aren’t we bootyfull, mommy?”
God, I love that kid. I mean, I love anyone who calls me beautiful…but when said by a three year old? The cuteness is heart-melting.
There were cuter photos of Addie smiling with Bebop….but this one is my favorite. I especially love that she’s picking her nose.
Bebop has this really bad habit. She likes to wake up early. I know what you’re thinking–maybe it’s not a “habit” as much as it is mother nature calling. But even if I take her out REALLY late. Like 2am or later, she still wakes up at 7am…buzzing with the volume and energy of my loud ass alarm.
She’s so friggin cute when she wakes up, too. She’s afraid to jump off the bed so she’ll walk to the edge…dance around it, consider jumping off. Then she’ll come to me and touch her nose to my cheek. Usually I can ignore this and in a sleepy fog pull her into a laying position. A few minutes later, she gets up again and like superman takes a flying leap off the bed. It’s the thud of her hitting the floor that makes me realize that I have .5 seconds to wake up, get my coat and shoes on and get out the door with her before she pees everywhere.
But the most annoying thing about Bebop’s morning ritual is she wakes up long enough to pee, eat and play for about 30 minutes. And after 30 minutes, she conks out again. Lucky for me, it creates picture perfect moments like the photo above with Red. If only I could find a way to push her routine back by a couple of hours…
Day 3 of my resolution–not doing too bad. Granted…it’s only day 3. Day 3 is easy. It’s at about Day 33 when I’m sitting on my couch in my bathrobe with nothing to say that this resolution will be difficult.
Anyway–here is BEBOP! The new puppy. Doesn’t she look like a mini coyote?
Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am NOT a little dog person. I mean–I love all dogs, of course. All animals, even. But for me, it’s always been big dogs all the way. Boxers, labs, newfs, retrievers. Dogs whose faces and can grab and mush. Dogs who I can lean on and sleep in the arch of their belly and drop my face into crying on a bad day. However, I popped into the Sean Casey Animal Rescue because I wanted to offer my photography services in light of Luna’s passing. And while I was there, of course I looked around.
There were a ton of sweetheart dogs. Some big, some medium sized. Mostly pit mixes (which I am NOT a person who is afraid of a pitbull. I think they are the sweetest little mushes ever), but after Luna I really wanted a dog who I could overpower and not the other way around. Just in case something went array again, I wanted a dog that I could handle and control–for me, I feel it’s the responsible thing to do.
And then there in the corner was this tan little frail thing shaking. All the other dogs were barking and playful and also sweet as can be (and anyone in NY who is interested in a dog, please check out Sean’s establishment! They are SO wonderful there!), but she sat there cowering with this pink harness still on her body. The harness looked clean and new. Like someone loved her and cared for her enough to buy an expensive and fashion-based item.
“What’s her story?” I asked holding up my knuckle to the cage and clicking my tongue at her.
“She was just brought in today, surrendered by her owner,” the man had a gruff voice with a strong Brooklyn accent.
Still shivering, she leaned toward my finger, sniffed…licked, then huddled back in her corner.
“Why? She looks like she was a pet store kind of puppy…probably wasn’t a cheap buy for the owner.”
“Oh, he said his other chihuahua was beating up on her too much and he didn’t think it was fair for her.”
I stuck my knuckle back up to the cage and again she came over for the company. “Hey girl–were you being bullied, baby?” And as I stood there staring at her, so afraid, I started crying. I don’t know if I was crying for my Luna. Or for this new puppy. Or for all the barking, caged dogs surrounding me–none of whom deserved to be discarded like garbage. But I stood there crying for a few minutes.
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he did his best to comfort me, “She’s a beauty. She’ll find a home in no time.”
“Can I meet her?”
And the second I said the words, he and I both knew the deal was done. He let her come home with me for a couple of nights to foster her–almost like a test trial.
I named her Bebop–a type of improvisational jazz–because my ownership was quite improvisational, too. And, well, after the Cowboy Bebop cartoon too. But mostly the jazz thing–yeah.
So, I’m happy to introduce the newest member of my family–Bebop Java Katana.
The middle name story will be up soon…