Friday, October 12, 2012

Lethargic Devotion

We woke this morning to a gray, drizzly day.  "Woke" is perhaps a relative term as we all seem to be suffering from lethargy.  I fed the dogs and cats at 5:00 AM and then settled in with a cup of coffee on the sofa to watch the post vice-presidential debate breakdown on CNN.  Within moments I had fallen asleep with Maggie, Rosie and Red Rocket as "blankets" along my side.  Edward and August discovered me at 8:00 AM and attempted to rouse me but I found myself stumbling back to bed with all dogs in tow.  An hour later I was awake for good and reading the newspaper in the recliner with Maggie and Red Rocket wedged in next to me and Hank laying at my feet.  When I got up to go into the dining room Hank followed me and as I sat at the table he devotedly parked himself on the rug and laid his big, soft, brown head on my bare feet.  These are the quiet moments I love with these dogs.  I will try to remind myself of this later today when I inevitably find "offerings" on the rug because the dachshunds don't wish to wet their feet on the rain-soaked grass...

Sunday, September 30, 2012


In recent weeks Edward has become enamored of YouTube videos featuring boys his age fighting "zombie nerf wars." Last weekend he dutifully made multiple trips to the basement to acquire his various plastic and styrofoam armaments and developed a weapons stockpile in the living room. Early this evening battle commenced between Daddy and Edward. What we didn't count on was the canine volunteer militia led by Maggie who attacked Daddy believing he was hurting "their boy." Note in the photo that Sophie slept through the battle...
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Monday, August 20, 2012

Shocking Revelations of Spoiling

As I walked by Edward's bedroom this evening I peaked in to see if he was asleep. His head wasn't on the pillow and the bed appeared empty. I stepped into the room quietly searching the darkness and discovered Edward bent double on the bottom half of the bed. He mumbled something so I knew he was still awake. "Edward what are you doing?" I asked. He replied, "I'm giving Rocket the most comfortable spot." I glanced up and as my eyes had adjusted to the darkness I saw it: Red Rocket curled in the soft middle part of the mattress with his head on Edward's pillow...
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Back to School

Today is the first day of fall semester classes at WSU and for the first time in three years I step away from the administrator's desk and return to the classroom full time.  While this is usually the most exciting time of the year on a college campus it is bittersweet for me as I struggle facing my future and the decisions I will make about where to go from here.  As I raced to dress and hustle out of the house this morning I was vexed by Red Rocket and Rachsie who both are employed in the job I really want: professional napper.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Berlin Blanket Wall

Admittedly, the "Berlin Blanket Wall" title would have a bit more impact if the dogs on either side were both German dachshunds! This "wall" was created when August got out of bed and threw back the covers; Hank promptly jumped onto the warm spot in the bed and settled in next to Rosie.
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Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Happiness is...

...three dogs in a freshly made bed. Happiness for the dogs, that is. I am vexed by Hank's compulsion to rub his chocolate lab body all over the clean sheets, blankets and pillows to "christen" the bed. I suppose I should be thrilled he doesn't christen it in another manner...
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Good Morning?

This is what I saw when my alarm sounded this morning and I opened my eyes...
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Monday, August 6, 2012

PROOF! Not a Mirage!

I had to sneak carefully up to the back door to take this shot and Red Rocket saw the camera and had just started his leap out of the sandbox when I managed to snap this picture!

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Breaking News

This just in: the winner of the "tonight I get to sleep with Edward" showdown is: Red Rocket!

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Although Edward may be willing to exchange bed buddies tonight, Red Rocket is unhappy with the idea. I think we may have a showdown over who gets to sleep with Edward. Or they're going to have to share.
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Ring Around a Rosie

Rosie likes to sleep on Edward's botttom bunk. Tonight Edward asked if we could make it up special so he could snuggle with her (he usually sleeps on the top bunk with Red Rocket.) I made her a nest with Edward's "Kojo the Croc" blanket buddy and she has settled in for the night.
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Beached Whale

At long last we have had a break in the endless spell of arid, three-digit temperature days.  Last night a cool front moved through and we had a brief moment of thunder, lightning, a smattering of rain and a reduction of the high from 103 to 93 degrees.  In anticipation of this "relief" (?) August booked a tee time at the local golf course and planned to play his first round of golf in six weeks.  He was so excited that at about 8:30 last night he went into the garage to get his golf clubs and place them by the front door for a speedy departure in the morning.  That's when it happened.  Rosie snuck into the garage behind August and she didn't sneak out.  He was oblivious to the fact that she had followed him into the garage and shut the door between the garage and the house.  Was Rosie terrified and distressed?  No.  Locking Rosie in the garage was like locking a child in a candy store.  Because we had just purchased a brand new 44 pound bag of dogfood and had stored it, yes, you guessed it, in the garage. 

Did we notice she was missing?  No.  By 8:30 PM the dogs have usually all settled in for a snooze and so all was quiet.  At 9:30 PM August went into the kitchen and I heard him exclaim, "Oh, my!"  I was on the couch in the living room and yelled, "What's wrong?"  He came into the living room carrying Rosie in his arms and said, "Feel this belly."

Talk about bloated.  Like a sausage on the grill about to burst out of its casing.  Like a water balloon at the moment it's about to pop.  Like a 10 pound dog who has just feasted on a 44 pound bag of dogfood.  It didn't take us long to discover the evidence.  We knew she had gotten into something.  We found the dogfood bag with a small hole in the side.  I was actually relieved.  As faithful readers of the Red Rocket Report know we have a history of consumption of canine-unfriendly foods in this house... I knew Rosie would be uncomfortable but she would survive.  She laid on the chair in the living room like a beached whale and could barely waddle outside at "last potties" call (she did NOT receive the customary dog cookie upon returning to the house as the others did!)  She survived and is back swimming with the other fishes, metaphorically speaking that is.   

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Imperfect Pitch

At our last parent-teacher conference at Edward's elementary school a very dedicated music teacher attempted to explain to us how Edward's singing lacked pitch.  As a public educator myself I try to take Edward's schooling very seriously but the reality was that if this gentleman was expecting Mommy to help with "pitch development homework" he was talking to the wrong parent.  The only person in our house with worse pitch than Edward is his mother.  As an art historian I am dedicated to the principle that "a picture is worth a thousand words" so I offer this photo as evidence.  Has anyone, EVER, seen Hank look less than thrilled, excited, and ecstatically happy during his waking hours?  Clearly Edward's attempts to entertain Hank with singing and clapping were not met with a standing ovation.


I suppose after enduring four weeks of 105 degree heat and no rain what I saw when I came home from work early this afternoon might have been a mirage... But I don't think so.  Edward's babysitter Gina tries to put all (or most) of the dogs outside when I pull up in the driveway so that when I walk in the door they don't jump up and snag my pantyhose if I'm dressed up.  My usual routine is to quickly change clothes and then let the dogs back in the house.  Today when I approached the back door Hank was waiting, tail wagging and body wiggling, to greet me.  But Red Rocket was not beside him.  I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye and looked up at the middle of the deck to find Red Rocket inside Edward's sand table digging with his single front paw and holding a plastic toy soldier in his mouth.  I suspect he was in the midst of burying a "kill" but he glanced up and saw me looking at him and jumped out of the box.  I tried to get him to "pose" for a blog shot but he refused; so I've posted a picture of the empty sandbox and you'll have to use your imagination.  If Wichita Red Rocket Report followers have trouble doing this just stand outside for 30 seconds and surely the resultant hot flash you experience will evoke the mirage.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Five little doggies sleeping on the bed,
Momma has nowhere to lay her head,
Momma called the doctor and the doctor said,
"Let sleeping dogs lie and surrender your bed."

Monday, July 30, 2012

Heating Pad Thief Strikes Again

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Move over Kazimir Malevich; your Suprematist white-squares-on-a-white-square have nothing on my brown-lump-on-a-brown-lump!

Canine Sociology

Is there such an academic discipline as "canine sociology?"  Could I sweet-talk another university into giving me an honorary degree in this subject so I can avoid the PTSD of returning to graduate school for another PhD?  Because if I can become a canine sociologist I have the perfect case study laboratory in which to experiment... I am fascinated by how our dogs occupy, share or define space in our house and how these patterns shift according to the time of day.  I will begin the ambitious task of writing a dissertation that maps this dog movement.  But here's a preview: 9:30 PM finds "the boys" sharing space on the bed. 

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Mr. Mischief

Just when I think he might be settling down into a calm and contented middle age Red Rocket reminds me that his streak of puppy mischief will never die.  Thankfully, this time his antics did not involve the consumption of chocolate and a race to the veterinary emergency hospital.  But I must confess, on the scale of unpleasant nasal experiences chocolate dog puke ranks lower than deer excrement... Here is His Majesty, on the last night of his Texas Spring Break vacation, participating in the canine version of a wet T-shirt contest after sneaking away from the family campfire and rolling in deer poop. 

Welcome? Rosie

When I was about 11 or 12 years old my parents enrolled my sister and I in a Saturday morning art class at the local community center.  I remember being excited at the prospect but then experiencing a sinking frustration at my lack of ability as the course progressed.  My clearest memory of the experience was struggling to create a modeled drawing of a small whale statue that the instructor had brought as a prop.  The small, smooth, black body of the whale sculpture was elegantly curved to suggest the majesty of the creature moving through the water and as I turned my pencil to the side to create a swath of shade along the belly of the form in my drawing I was struck that my masterpiece looked decidedly like a dog turd.  At the end of the six week class we had a modest exhibition that our parents were invited to attend.  The art instructor pulled my parents over to the section of wall where my sister's drawings were displayed and in excited tones gushed about her budding promise as an artist and suggest that they enroll her in private painting lessons with a fairly well-known regional artist.  "And what about Annette?" they inquired.  The art instructor politely informed them that there was a cheerleading class starting the next week at the community center.  I duly enrolled in Saturday morning cheerleading, pom-pom, and baton twirling classes, all of which I failed miserably.  Art lessons on Friday evenings were arranged for my sister.  The artist who taught these lessons lived just six blocks from our home in a fabulous loft above a barn-style studio alongside a small creek and in the twilight of Friday evenings my Dad and I would walk Melissa with her portfolio of artist materials down to the studio.  I loved the place and was jealous of my sister.  The large studio doors were always flung open revealing a huge stone fireplace with a roaring fire.  Still life vignettes of grasses, fruits and flowers lined the walls around six easels where promising students would carefully render their compositions.  The smell of oil paint, wheat, musty water and spicy candles emanated from the room and quiet classical music was piped into the air.  My sister would settle down at her easel and I would reluctantly turn away to head home with my Dad.  Although I ached to soak in the romance of the painting studio on those Friday nights I was allowed a consolation prize because my Dad would take me home and let me indulge in an even more powerful romance: watching the highly anticipated weekly episode of Dallas on television.  We would revel in the antics of JR Ewing, the charming villian who always managed to redeem himself (or at least snooker his gullible and tender-hearted family into thinking he had redeemed himself).  And this takes us to the breaking news of the Red Rocket Report: the canine incarnation of JR Ewing has joined Red Rocket's home and family. 

Her name is Rosie and she is/was my mother's 9 year old miniature dachshund.  My Mom has struggled with several health issues over the past year and last fall August and I had a heart-to-heart talk about emotionally preparing ourselves for the eventuality that my mother might not be able to care for Rosie and that a decision would have to be made.  Of course, in the end, there was really no decision in the matter.  My mother was hospitalized for 37 days last month.  Edward and I went to Illinois to care for her.  And August drove up from Kansas with Red Rocket and his siblings, integrated Rosie into the pack, and, seeing that she could adapt, brought her back to Kansas.  My mother uses two different words to characterize Rosie's demeanor: "sweet" and "terrorist."  While these might seem to be contradictory personality traits I remind you of JR Ewing's ability to both terrorize and sweet-talk.  Plus, if you examine the photograph I have posted, you'll see that Rosie has JR Ewing's eyebrows.  Welcome JR.....errrrrr....Rosie, to the Red Rocket family. 

Monday, April 30, 2012

Grow Old Along with Me, The Best Is Yet to Be

I didn't think it would happen.  I thought Hank was too wild and playful and, well, clueless.  I assumed Sophie would become exasperated and resign herself to an old age absent of the ritual that defined her daily life for nine years: the patient and meticulous grooming of a labrador retriever's head and ears.  But I was too cynical or lacked faith or mourned Emma too deeply myself.  At long last realization has dawned and Hank has learned that Sophie's ministrations are not invitations to engage in a wrestling match but are moments to be still and quiet and accept the gentle motherly love of a feline.  And Hank's acceptance of the ritual has created a togetherness that is expressed even outside the act of daily grooming.

Love and Tornado

As Red Rocket Report fans from Wichita know, we had a tornado come through here several weeks ago.  It was a scary experience as the twister passed within a mile of our house and there were some bleak moments when we thought we would be hit.  We have a pet disaster plan and the dogs and cats were kenneled in the basement laundry room with us.  When the tornado sirens go off in Wichita, Edward's usual first response is to yell, "Where's my Pooh Bear!?!"  I recount this story to convey how much Edward loves Hank: only a child who has deeply bonded with his dog would tuck Pooh Bear in next to the canine for his afternoon nap...

Saturday, January 7, 2012

He is Healthy, Happy and Loved

I know it has been a long while since the Red Rocket Report was updated and anxious fans are inquiring. Please be assured that he is happy, healthy and loved!