New Carpet Vs. Four Dogs

On Friday, our new carpet was installed. Praise GOD! I can't even begin to tell you the difference that it has made in the house. No more mystery stains and smells in the carpet left behind by the previous owners who lived with an indoor zoo. No more hee-bee-jee-bee feelings. We are finally over the hump of disaster and on our way to moving in completion. It feels good, not to mention super squishy soft on the toes.

With just over a month left to go before Baby Hope arrives, Tom Builder has discovered that I will move heaven and earth (or king sized mattresses) singlehandedly with or without his help to finish the job indoors. I will not be stopped. Unless it comes to rebuilding the closets, and then I am admittedly at his mercy. But I can make the grand announcement that nobody is sleeping on the floor anymore. After five months, The Queen's Grace and Sir Bugga-lot have their bunk beds and can say Adieu to sleeping with mattresses on the floor.

That's the good news in the cleanliness department. The bad news, is for ten days we have inherited three additional doggies. They're good girls, but included in the bunch is a live wire puppy on a course of destruction through our house while my brother and his good wife are on a Carribean cruise. I'm beginning to realize how good we had it when Maggie, our beloved now in doggie heaven Golden Retriever was a puppy. Since Saturday, Ms. Sadie the Bloodhound puppy has sought out and destroyed:

1 Pacifier
3 Markers
1 Red Uniball Pen (which of course exploded all over the hardwood floors)
3 Strips of weather stripping for the doors
3 Stuffed animals (with stuffing carried throughout the house)
2 Wooden Beads
1 Window Screen
1 Baby Gate
1 Bowl of Mini Wheats

And that is only a short list of things that were left behind with a remnant for evidence. I can't imagine what foreign objects lie within the bowels of this canine...

We're on Day 4 or 5 of the trip. I ALMOST put them all in the outdoor shed after the Red Uniball explosion as that was the result of a third escape from the sunroom at 6:00 am. The escape was accomplished by pulling at the weather stripping underneath two closed doors, which then pulled the doors open and released the hound to do her bloody red business...so to speak. Her life would have been extinguished if she had decided to carry the ball point pen over to the freshly carpeted side of the house.

The first escape took place sometime during the morning hours of Sunday, when all three dogs busted through a window screen, and then busted a hole through a baby gated deck. Dogs are much harder than kids. I don't know how my sister-in-law does it. But I can tell you that 4 dogs, plus 3 kids, plus toys and homeschooling supplies strewn around the house is a disaster from the get go. You just can't win with that formula.

The Doll Collector

I have one room in the house called "The Yellow Room". It is the only room in the house that I request be left "toy free" and pass-able just in case someone stops by and we need a clutter free room to sit in. The children have been very good over the years about keeping Mommy's request. Hatch, however (our new dog rescued from death row last year) has other plans for the yellow room.


He doesn't sleep in the yellow room, and he doesn't eat in the yellow room. But for what ever reason, our kleptomaniac feels compelled to deposit all his daily room looting in my supposed to be clutter free room. A pile like this takes no more than two days. Today, he caught me taking pictures of his piles, and decided he needed to keep a closer watch over his pillaged goods. Thankfully, Mr. Hatch sticks to random stuffed animals, dolls, and small toys. I'd be a little less forgiving if he hauled out our dirty laundry every 3 hours.

How can you say "no looting" to this handsome fuzz ball?

Forced Sabbatical

I had one of THOSE weeks last week. Some bloggers have been there. A week where frankly, I've got plenty to say, but no energy to say, and no will to blog. Just didn't feel like it. I kind of surprised myself with my blog lethargy.

Faith had a tough week dealing with her first cold. Which meant that Mom had a sleep challenged week along with her. Faith could make it only a few hours at a time before giving up on the Land of Nod and deciding to hunker down for an hour or two at 3:00am in the Land of Play with Toys and Watch Old FOX News Reels. (yes..the TV is back on since football season has arrived).

The week included few showers, way too many bouts with reflux and puke on top of the cold, and as a result, hanging out like this, while I tried to go about the rest of my day in a dragging stupor that coffee couldn't remedy.


To top off the end of the week, Mr. Hatch took advantage of an unattended open door, and chased after God knows what (I heard him crying) to disappear for an entire night. I was nursing upstairs, so he had a good half hour or more to get out of dodge.

Yep. Lots of tears on that one. Remember this post? Far from coincidence when you consider that Hatch just happened to run off only minutes after Ken had left for his first Elder meeting. I can tell you it is almost an impossible feat to look for a dog when you are dog tired yourself, your baby is SO ready for bed, every emotion in the book is boiling in your blood at the turn of events, your husband is unavailable to help, and you are trying to drive slowly, but quickly as the daylight comes to a close.

My beloved husband, even after a very full day, spent a good hour in the middle of the night on the prowl for Hatch, but to no avail. Thankfully, after printing out about 60 signs the next morning, we discovered Hatch dazed and confused in a neighboring development. It took him two days to recover from his exhaustion. We are ALL very happy for his return safely. Hatch has an new spring in his step. He's started giving wet kisses, and we just discovered the boy can suddenly lose it, and madly run laps around the house when his happiness overcomes him. It is as if he has realized that our family actually WANTS to keep him. The family passed the Search & Rescue test. Apparently, in his opinion, our house has qualified for the designation of HOME.

We did have some sweet times. One of my personal favorites was Faith's first experience with a biter biscuit. We actually quit doing the solids thing after a week. She's not interested. The child might go straight to eating filet mignon and skip the mush. But, my friends...a biter biscuit was much more fun!

Oh Look! A Post About Babies & Dogs.

How original. I just can't help myself. I'll try and stop...after this post. But, put dogs and babies together, those great wide spheres o'happiness, and my heart melteth.

This moment begged for a photo. This isn't so much Hatch snuggling with Faith as it is Hatch saw me coming in Faith's general direction so he flopped down next to Faith to get a piece of lovin' action. Faith, capitalized on the moment and decided to get a piece of her own lovin' action laying a solid grip around Hatch's fur.

Mr. Hatch's personality is starting to come out of his shell. He's a trip. The dog knows how to milk a good thing, and could qualify as one of the biggest pushovers on the face of God's green earth. He's a dreamboat dog.


Yesterday, I felt like SuperMOM walking into the vet with a baby on my back, two kids in tow, one gerbil in a cage, and one happy go lucky dog. Minus the double trips for moving dogs and gerbils around, the visit went well (for all but the pet gerbil). It was worth the extra effort in that we weren't leaving the vet with just a euthanized dead gerbil to bury, but we had a very happy, healthy dog going home with us.

Jack was still very sad. While the gerbil was in the back room for the final countdown, I tried my best to keep the situation positive talking about the bright side of Marly's soon to be new and improved life. At one point, the thoughts overwhelmed Jack and he dropped into a corner on his knees and quickly said, "I need to think about something else." Jack's in need of extra warm hugs these days. Sad one moment, and angrily drop kicking his big sister the next moment.

Except for some "slightly arthritic back knees", Hatch walked out with a clean bill of health, stunning the staff with his adorable demeanor and manners. The vet's opinion is Hatch is a golden/collie mix (too big for a Spitz), around 2-3 years of age. We've got a lot of years to look forward to with Mr. Hatch. Which is terrific news for all of us.

A New Friendship Forged

It took all day, but we did it. And we are happy as can be. After two unsolicited calls from friends both suggesting taking in a dog without a home (either seen or unseen), it started to feel like the good Lord above was telling us not to wait. We were planning on waiting until the spring for a Golden Retriever puppy, but honestly, I was finding it hard to squelch the desire for a canine pal. I knew I couldn't do a puppy and a baby at once. And the more I thought about it, the better buying an adult dog sounded. If things quieted down in the late fall or spring, we could still purchase a Golden.

Today, we ended up at the Animal Control Center in our county, as just about every humane or adoption center demands a fence. Since our Maggie never needed a fence and we don't have one, the Animal Control Center was the only place that didn't require fencing. I'm so glad we went. We ended up saving and scoring an AMAZING dog. I have a feeling someone really shed tears over this missing pooch --- he is just as well mannered and gentle as our Maggie. (Psst...He's an even better sport about bathing and brushing.)


Hatch, after his 6 hour extreme makeover.
We named him "Hatch" (after our Knucker Hatch alias). And he probably feels like he has hatched a brand new life with us. It has taken all afternoon and evening just to work out the gads and gads of hair that was falling out in huge tufts and mats. Our best guess is Hatch appears to be a 40lb. Finnish Spitz mix who might be 4-6 years old. He has the looks and stature of a fox, but with floppy tipped ears. Sometimes he just looks like a mini Golden Retriever. We love his sweet disposition already. His idea of "Sit" is collapsing on the floor and widening the surface area of his belly for maximum scratching potential. Hatch is a total sucker for lovin' on. Honestly, we don't even know if he has a voice... he hasn't even barked once through the hours and hours of brushing and tick pulling.

Hatch is a lucky boy who managed to squeeze past the 6 day average stay before his kill date. In fact, he was held for over three weeks at the control center...an unusal length of time. His heart clearly bought him a stay. Hatch's kennel card was the only one that had the extra note: "So Sweet!". They weren't kidding. A lady who saw us interacting together in the kennel, let out a small gasp of delight when she saw us. Turns out she worked there, but was there on her off day, and thanked us for rescuing Hatch, saying he was a special sweetheart. He's a snuggler, that I am actually trying to teach TO jump up and share the couch with me. He's also turned into quite the handsome and soft man, after a treatment of L'oreal shampoo and conditioner (which has done wonders for his highlights by the way).

We are equally as fortunate to have found such a stellar dog today. Hatch is incredibly forgiving...he hasn't said a peep about the 50 billion times we've referred to him as "she" or "girl". Ask me how it feels to hear that familiar tic-tic of dog nails on our hardwoods again.

It feels like home.

Standing In the Shade of God's Shadow

We're on the Enemy's radar screen. I know it, and Ken knows it. It wasn't until about four weeks ago that we voiced what we were both thinking, and realized, we both knew it. Ironically, it was about two months ago, that I checked out a book by Charles Stanley called "When The Enemy Strikes". I only reached the third chapter, before having to return it back to the library. But it was enough. It is clear that at least in my case, the Enemy wants to steal my joy.

This is a time of weakness for me. I have been unable to attend my Bible studies for six months, and I am isolated with a little baby. The weakness isn't in temptation, but more along the lines of feeling "down" or inviting depression. In the last two months I have watched the helpless little creatures around me get picked off one by one in our household. I have a deep heart for the little guy, and the Enemy knows that he can make me twist in the wind on this. And he's not just striking at the heart of a Mom, he's striking indirectly at my children.

For a month we agonized with Maggie, and watched her pass two weeks ago. During that last week, I didn't post it, but one of my four beautiful giant goldfish that I've had in our front yard pond for 2 years disappeared. Nothing to cry over like a dog, but a noted scratch. And then today, after saying good morning to the family gerbil, Marly, I noticed a giant bloody scent gland tumor. After consulting with the vet, he needs to be euthanized as well.

I cried. More than once. Not as much for the gerbil who's led a good life, but for my children. It was only two weeks ago that we buried our dog, and now I had to tell the kids that we also had to put down their 2 1/2 year old gerbil. Grace said, "After that, we won't have any pets left." And it tore my heart strings to watch that familiar tension in Jack's face as he tried to say something happy while fighting off tears, "I bet Gully (Marly's deceased buddy) will be happy to see Marly again. They'll be wrestling with each other and playing." But I can see it. The wounds that were healing so well have been ripped back open.

During this time, I have been praying for protection over our family, and recently over even extended family, as I have seen the Enemy fan out over us. Ken has been dealing with his own spiritual warfare, in addition to what has been swirling around the home. My prayers have been especially fervent over Ken. I am certain that all of this warfare is over Ken. It was two months ago that he was approached by his mentor on the topic of moving from being a deacon in the church to a possible elder position. Ken's plate was already full to the brim, working 80 hour weeks as his technology company ramps up, but he agreed to consider. And that is when the Enemy decided to strike, adding distractions, upon disappointments, upon pains.

But after a rough two months, and coming to a mutual realization that the Enemy was trying to swoop in over our family, Ken decided to forge ahead despite the work load and "Stick it to him". Tonight we received word that the elders in our church unanimously voted to add Ken to the board of elders. And so it is. And the will of God has prevailed.

I think the whole family is a little beat up and bruised. It has been an emotional battle. But when I take the time to look around me, my joy is renewed. There is a new "closeness" in the house, and more conversation. We pulled together as an army for God. We held our ground. And where we stand, falls the shade of God's long shadow. A reminder of His protection and Holy presence over this house.

And THAT Was June

If you have been reading the In This Corner blog you are very aware of our family's ups and downs last month. It has been crazy. It has been fun. It has been busy. And it has been very sad at times. To borrow and modify part of a well known poem:

When it was good, it was very, very good.
But when it was bad, it was horrid.

I know, family tends to dabble only on the Knucker Hatch blog so here's a monthly recap for you strict Knucker Hatch surfers:

In early June we hit Nags Head Beach for a full week of wonderful vacationing with Ken's side of the family. The cousins all got along famously and ate up every last bit of Grandma and Grandpa's attention.

Due to illness, we had to miss the second half of the trip which would have been a full week of vacationing with my Dad's side of the family in Florida.

But the Lord was looking out for all of us, as it was clear that we needed to be home with our nine year old, very loved, but hurting Golden Retriever. After a month of many tests and vet trips, we discovered that she was dying of kidney failure. So, on the 31st of June, we had to say good bye to our one and only Maggie Lou. Thank you to all of you who have called or sent cards to check on us and our grieving...it means so very much to us. I know for others, this will be the first time you have heard.

We are taking it day by day, and it is getting easier. But there isn't a single day that goes by in which we don't miss her giant face licks and sweet demeanor incredibly.


I've put together a series of links from the In This Corner blog. It follows the swift decline of Maggie. Perhaps it will be helpful to someone out there researching the medicine Deramaxx for treating canine arthritis. If you see the following symptoms in your dog: body tremors, not eating for days, vomiting, black stools, please consider changing meds if your dog is already on Deramaxx (even if it doesn't show up in the kidney numbers). Deramaxx was a gift to Maggie, and helped her considerably, but in hindsight, we might have picked another arthritic medicine, as the damage to her kidneys was most likely a result of the Deramaxx. The kidneys didn't reflect the damage in the blood tests until it was much too late, but her big brown eyes told us something wasn't right six months ago.

My Poor Eighty Pound Baby
Dog Gone Grief
Playing Us Like A Fiddle
The Dog Days of Summer
One Last Night of Friendship
Meet Me At The Door Maggie

Meet Me At The Door Maggie

The sadness is all consuming when I am alone with my thoughts. My sweetheart lays buried in the corner of our backyard under the shade of the forest. Just a few days ago she was laying right where my feet are now resting. Every room I walk in, every corner of the yard, holds remnants of her presence. And while I have already given away her super huge pillow to my sister-in-law for her cousins to use, as well as her food, I can't bear yet to empty out her water bowl, and tuck it away. How I miss my sweetheart.

The Lord was so good to us on Friday morning. Ken had slept on the couch next to her all night, and after a 5:00am feeding, I came down the stairs to find her laying on the cool hardwoods. When she saw me, I received the familiar loving tail wag that creates thumps of joy on the floor. I laid on the floor next to her with my pillow for a little while thinking of the few hours I had left with her. Her body was failing, but her cup of love for us was still full.

Trying to get her more comfortable, we went on the front porch and enjoyed the sunrise, cool air on our faces, and the chatter of the birds. For two hours we camped out. One by one, as Ken and the children woke up, they came out to hang with us on the porch and cuddle up to Maggie. Her constant tremors were always there taunting me. They were the first sign that something was amiss a month ago, and now they consumed her body everytime she tried to lay down and rest. How quickly this whole mess had fallen on her.

The blow hit the hardest when Ken made the appointment for 9:40am that morning. It sucked the wind out of me. Looking at the clock I had exactly one hour left with Maggie. Only sixty more minutes to enjoy the warmth of her fur and let her know a hundred more times just how special she was to our family. I was glad to have my brother and sister-in-law pull up to the house or I think I might have really lost my senses. Maggie adored Kristy. I knew that seeing Kristy again would lift her spirits to a new height. It did, and I was so thankful to see Maggie's joy in another well loved friend by her side.

Before I knew it, Ken and I were leading her up to the mini van for a final car ride. It was almost too much. She seemed so happy to just focus on something else, practically making the large jump up into the back end herself. Ken drove, making a phone call to a friend for prayer, and I laid next to her drenching our Golden girl in a new flood of tears. We chose to go to the vet who provided the second opinion. I was so glad I did. For whatever the reason, I quickly saw just how comfortable Maggie felt with this veterinarian and the facility. She was full of tail wags, and showed no concerns or fears.

The last fifteen minutes went very quickly. The vet went over all of her stats again, letting us know we were doing the right thing, and going over how the next few minutes would play out for us and her. She was given a sedative that took about 10 minutes to put her in a very restful state of sleep. All the while, Ken and I tried our best to maintain composure and tell her over and over again what a good girl she was. I wanted 'Good Girl Maggie' to be the last words she ever heard from us on this earth. Maggie deserved as much. She fell into the deepest of slumbers just as she always did at home, with just the tip of her pink tongue sticking out. It was the most restful I have seen her in so very long.

The second shot, took only seconds. She never moved. Never flinched. She passed on as gently as I had asked the Lord to take her. And I am so thankful for that peace. However, it is still mind numbing to return back to the car less than thirty minutes later with the same dog you just cuddled next to, only this time, she's bagged up for her burial.

We've had days now to adjust to the absence of our Maggie. The grief hits in hard waves. Jack and I have been taking it probably the hardest. I followed Ken around like a lonely puppy dog for the first two days, as I quickly discovered that being alone with my thoughts was overwhelming. We've tried very hard to do things as a family during this time, and the kids have found the best therapy to be listening to 'Puppy Stories' as they call it. Anything I can retell about the many memories of Maggie, brings them happiness. Grace's therapy has been writing and coloring about her loss. Jack on the other hand needs to talk it out, and is trying to desperately understand the difference between body and spirit (he wanted to revisit her grave the next morning and unbury her to see if her body was still there.) He is full of questions about death, even asking in tears who would bury him when he died. Your heart breaks all over when you hear questions like that.

We all miss her. And catch ourselves when we almost whistle for her to come join us for a movie, or feel like we hear the familiar tap-tapping of her nails on the hardwood floors. The holes in our hearts are so deep. But it is my hope that the holes will eventually fill in as the scars from the last few weeks fade, and the memories of her entire life become the focus.

I told Maggie to meet me at the door when I arrive Home. I have no doubt that she will be there with her tail wagging hard, looking desperately around our heavenly Home for something on God's floor to bring to me as a welcome home gift.

One Last Night of Friendship

Our worst fears came true this afternoon. Ken so graciously took Maggie in for a second opinion, and the lab results were crushing. Maggie is dying of kidney failure. Deramaxx was her friend and in the end, her foe. The numbers were stunningly high, and the veterinarian surmised that based on the numbers, her kidneys have been reduced to 25% of their functionality. She's vomiting almost every hour now, but always willing to please, she still manages to give a tail wag to let us know she's with us.

It's over. My hope is gone. She's going home. My sweet, sweet, girl.

Tonight we are huddled together on the floor in the green room to spend one last night like the ol' days when it was just Ken, myself, and our special girl. The Nora Jones CD is playing a lonesome but peaceful tune, and for a short moment, everything seems as it was in days long past. Except for the first time ever, she isn't staring me down for a love offering from my bag of popcorn.

Her stomach was always her sweet spot. In her youth, she once ate a half pound of M&M's from out of the trash, which sent her into a crazied euphoric sugar high that had her leaping over beds and couches in a single reckless bound. Until as of late, she became a bit more of a dare devil in her older age, swiping unattended sandwiches off the kitchen table. She knew she could always count on me for popcorn hand outs and the last piece of my pizza crust. And she was forever my faithful dishwasher helper...I loaded and she made sure to give all of the plates a hearty pre-rinse.

It burns my heart to know that she won't be able to accept a final dream spread of all of her favorite treats. She'll be going home on a very sore and empty belly. And that just doesn't seem fair. I'm miserable. She's miserable. Ken's dug half of her burial hole tonight, and he's miserable.

Tonight, misery loves company.

The Dog Days of Summer

How many tears can one shed over a family dog? Our ol' girl is in such a bad way. Her bounce back over chicken has gone and left. And we've tried to pull her out of what appears to be a dark depression. We're back to vomiting, not eating a lick, and the tremors. This morning, she lost control of her bladder.

Her eyes tell me she's ready to begin her walk toward Glory. I'm not so sure I'm ready for it though. I wish I knew how to help her. How to best comfort her as she prepares for this journey. For some reason we've been kept in the dark on what ails her so, since all of the tests came back showing nothing. This would be slightly easier if I knew she was riddled with disease.

I've prayed over her, spent hours at her side, and asked the good Lord above to shower her with His warm lovingkindness and gently take her home. It is so hard to pray that kind of prayer. The miracle believer in me still holds a white knuckle grip on faith that the Lord will restore her back to health if it is His will. The very idea of euthanizing her is paralyzing. The last thing I want to do is drag her once more to the vet to lay in a cold sterile unfamiliar room. I want her to be surrounded by the warmth of home. Both sides of the coin feel cruel.

The tears just keep flowing fresh...
This is definitely not an eye makeup day. Blah.

Friday Wrap Up

I feel like I have a thousand little loose ends to tie before leaving on this two week vacation. I've a bunch of cliff hangers from this week on the blog too, so here they are:

The cyst burst this week....lovely. But at least I know it is a cyst based on its contents. (I hope you've already eaten.) Unfortunately, I wasn't able to squeeze it back to normalcy. Ok, now you're gagging. But it looks better, and I shouldn't be as self conscious on the beach (minus the skin hanging from various locations.)

Which reminds me. I wasn't able to stick with my workout program as my knees became incredibly tender from the running. I did stick to including a yogurt a day in my diet. The working out I did, must have jostled my metabolism, as it moved me past my plateau weight, and as of today, I am one pound away from my goal nursing weight. I'm very tickled about that. Nursing has its perks --- well, until you stop nursing, and then those other super perky things, shrink to almost invisible.

Ok...moving on to the three moles I had removed. Guess what? Two of them really needed to be removed according to the test results. Mild dysplastic nevi. Nothing super serious, but considered pre-cancerous. So after vacation, I scoot back in for the doctor to take two more deeper chunks out of my skin to make sure they got everything. Not so glad about the holes in my body, but I'm glad I went in.

Maggie. My sweet fiddle player, has a giant scab over half of her tail as it mends. And she has managed to clear out almost every piece of chicken in the fridge. She's doing much better, but continues to boycott all pills. I can't tell you how thankful I am for her recovery, and now the sighting of those giant tail wags again.

Now...drum roll please....WE GOT THE TOURING ODYSSEY!!!! I lurve it!!! Sagebrush exterior, black and tan interior. It is SWEET!!! I was poking around in it with Ken at midnight last night, and it felt like we were sitting in an airplane with all of the nifty controls and lighting. Ken already admitted that he enjoyed smoking another car off of a light change on the way home. (How ridiculous are we?).

Lastly, my baby girl slept through the night. And as of 10:00am, she's still snoozing. Whoo! Hooo!! Poor girl must have been so worn out from car shopping. I couldn't have asked for a better little shopper yesterday.

And so, the rest of my day is a frazzled mess of last minute errands and packing. The kids are so excited they are almost down to counting hours. This family has so needed this vacation. As anyone who owns a business knows, vacations are so rare. So are true weekends. Ken and I were just discussing yesterday, that if it was just us, we would have canceled already. The downside of owning your own business or in our case businesses, is that working never ends. It has been too long. I thank the good Lord that we have a small gaggle of kids to force us on a vacation, or we'd really be boring sticks in the mud.

It's a happy day. :)

Just Call This The Overly-Dramatic-Blog

"She's playing us like a fiddle."

That's what Ken said, after I brought Maggie home from the ultrasound, cooked up some chicken breast (recommended by the vet to encourage her to eat), and we watched her gobble it up.

Big fat booger.

Welp, one set of X-Rays, one ultrasound, and about $800 later, here is what we know: Maggie is healthy as a horse. The ultrasound found nothing. The X-Rays found nothing. No mass in the ultrasound. All her organs look great. The only place they couldn't ultrasound was the neck area. This is a concern as her symptoms of not eating and gulping may be a result of a tumor pressing in on her neck. So guess what...we'd need to do a CT Scan for that. HUH???

I want to scream and leap for joy. I have a healthy dog who has decided not to eat. She's boycotting something. But today I discover she's apparently not boycotting fresh cooked chicken.

FIDDLE PLAYER!!!!

Don't get me wrong. She's still acting miserable. I'm sure the hot spot has a lot to do with that. And the pills might have been annoying her stomach. And I suppose, to be fair, there is the remote possibility that a tumor might be burrowing against her esophagus. But she's eating delicious savory chicken bits.

Ken says she'll never eat real dog food again.

Those eyes can make it look like the world is going to end tomorrow. Apparently overly dramatic tendencies run in the family. That beach trip is sounding much better.

Dog Gone Grief.

I hate this.

I've cried puddles nose to nose with my hurting dog for the last week as I have watched Maggie continue to slip down a slippery slope of one ailment after another. We're into our third week and things just keep getting worse. We went from ear infection, to the shakes, to not eating, to upset stomach, to labored breathing, to a nasty hot spot, to vomiting up water. She's eaten so very little in days. She won't take pills. She won't even take them if they are pulverized in a PBJ. She won't eat ice cream. She hasn't eaten even a whole can of dog food in what is probably almost a week. An eighth of a can maybe in a day.

Yesterday, I had an X-Ray done sure her lungs or some other organ would be riddled with cancer. To my relief, everything was clear, but the vet was concerned with her heart looking elevated. Her thoughts were perhaps a mass was lifting it. She noticed signs of pain in her spine. We scheduled an ultrasound to investigate the heart issue, and she sent me home with more "palatable" food she was sure Maggie would take to. No luck. Then last night I found a nasty huge hot spot on her tail (the only area not shaved) and rump. How could the vet miss that??? How did I miss that? It must have developed so quickly. Puss and everything. She was in so much pain when I tried to mend it.

After a 3:00am feeding with Faith, I heard Maggie gulping; trying to keep herself from puking. She was trembling (shivering?). All I could do was stroke her body, lay my robe over her, and try to get her to drink a little. She did. We just sat there. Together. Her cold nose in my lap. Trembling in the dark.

Today, I took her into her ultrasound. After just being at the vet yesterday, she did not want to come out of the car. I hugged her in the back seat and we had a long conversation. She with her eyes and her trembling, "Mommy, I don't want to go in again." And me trying to coax her that it was ok. I told her I would stay with her. But I was wrong. I had to drop her off. All I could do was walk her back, and feel like a traitor as I watched her get in a cage and look back at me.

Stupid grief.

Here's the worst: We're supposed to go on a very much needed two week vacation starting on Saturday. It has been planned for months. Maggie can't come. No dogs allowed. If it was just us, we'd cancel. But it is with both sides of the family. How can I leave her like this? How can I leave this on my sister-in-law's shoulders? There are so many levels of unfairness in this, I don't know where to start.

I have to keep my anger in check. I don't want to be the martyr. But I feel alone in my grief and helplessness. The children are clueless (thankfully). The baby doesn't stop her needs. And Ken has his stuff as we try to prepare to leave for a vacation I no longer want to take.

What Gets This 4 Month Old Revved Up?

Faith is a sucker for animals. She loves them, doing everything in her immobile power to get mobile and touch them. When she sees Maggie our beloved old golden (who is sadly not doing too well by the way), Faith goes crazy with her arms and legs shooting out in all directions. She loves to get close to Maggie and touch her fur, which gets Maggie all beside herself, and she can't help but give the kid giant full face and feet washes.

Yesterday, I was doing a little photo shoot for Faith's official four month mark and she suddenly spotted Maggie across the room...generating tons of squeals and efforts to move herself in the dog's direction. With a little help from Mom, she was scooted in for a closer look. Maggie is doing everything in her power not to sit up and do the spontaneous face wash.


This is torture for both Faith and Maggie...

My Poor Eighty Pound Baby

It's in her brown eyes. I can see it. I've been steeling myself the last week for what looks to be coming soon. She's been my big baby golden girl for so long. Over nine years. Nine loyal years. In the last two weeks, Maggie's turned a corner that her Deramaxx medicine can't fix, and it is getting worse. Her hips are quitting on her.

While she's been stiff over the last year, this is different. It is too sudden. Too severe. Something is happening in her body, that no amount of arthritic medicine can fix. The last two days she has come down with a brief case of the shakes. The worst is just watching her try to stand up. And it saddens me, when I think of how much of a people dog she is. She's stopped trying to go up the stairs at the end of the day to turn in for the night in our bedroom. Now she sleeps alone. In the last month she's stopped even trying to climb on the couch with us for a movie night. I tried to help her up two weeks ago, and she growled as she tried her best to climb up. She never growls.

We just came back from the vet. She had the works done: grooming, summer shave, medicine for ear infections, vaccinations, etc. I got a call today saying that she needed to come in for a urine sample. Something maybe up with one of her kidneys. I'm not sure I conveyed to the vet well enough the sudden changes I've seen. Her concern was in the numbers, but I don't need lab samples to tell me what's up. My girl is telling me with her eyes.

This week, I feel like she has aged two more years overnight. I'm dreading the possibilities. When it is her time, I just want her to pass peacefully as she sleeps doggy dreams in the night. I can't even give her a walk anymore, which she longs for, without the consequences being too hard on her the next day. Now the only place she runs is in her dreams, as I watch her body twitch and her paws go.

But I watched her today. The old girl still finds joy in things where gravity works with her rather than against her. She can still wiggle around in the cool green grass on her back and do the silliest paw dance with her feet straight in the air as she uses the grass as her back scratcher and the clouds as her dance floor. And she still loves to loaf in the warm morning sun. But the minute she sees me head from the porch into the house she's up to follow me back inside.

Forever my loyal friend.

Hello Spring!

In the good name of Charlotte Mason, and the bad name of baby fat, we've been making an effort to get outside and get some vigor in our day. The last couple of days have included a much needed walk for Maggie, (who hasn't felt a leash around her neck in probably 5 months), and stroller rides for Faith. The children take turns steering Faith into the curb, giving Maggie flat tires with the front wheels of the stroller, and blitzing across the entire road when cars approach. But in all seriousness, it has been nice to just get out and enjoy the weather.

Faith fired one of her first recorded smiles in the stroller today:Did I mention Faith has tongue issues?? Her tongue is always busy and rarely inside of her mouth except to rehydrate itself.

Back From The Salon

A girl needs a little extra attention every once in awhile. Maggie's golden retriever hair reached a new level of out of controllness. After two weeks of daily brushings which amounted to mounds and mounds of hair, we gave up. Off to the salon for a wash and cut. It is a little harder to conceal the large fat rolls, but she thinks it is all worth it. A trip to the salon means double the attention since everyone enjoys loving on a clean dog.

Our Family's Biggest Supporter

I just realized that not all of our family is pictured here on the Knucker Hatch blog. When you've been living with a family for 8 years...you're family. Here's our biggest most loyal supporter. She's getting up there in age, sporting a lovely new white mask, but you'd never know she was the runt of her litter. The tricks we taught her as a puppy have always stuck with her, and the old girl will still slowly roll over for you if you ask. She's been taking the age jokes in the house well, patiently letting us call her "the old bat". (Truthfully, we could only hope for her amazing bladder capacity when we reach her age in people years.)

So here's to you Maggie. Our practice child, our fluffy floor warmer, our answer to every food spill, and our giant couch potato. We'll never have a better dog than you.

Our Puzzle Caper

At first, I thought the problem was that all three 100 piece puzzles were purchased from Walmart. What are the odds that all three puzzles would be missing 3-8 pieces each?

I had purchased the puzzles on a whim, since Grace had showed a really interest in puzzles and needed more of challenge than the puzzles we had on hand. We have a perfectly square sized coffee table down in the basement that is waist high and accomodates the art of puzzle solving.

I gave Grace instructions on laying out the puzzle, finding the corners first, and then finding all the edge pieces - to frame things off and eliminate some of the overwhelming feels that can occur when you first "dump" the puzzle out. Grace listened to the instructions, and set to work putting the first puzzle together (a lamb in tulips). She worked on it for a few hours, and I assisted with encouragement and a few pieces. As we neared the end, I did a quick calculation, and agonized knowing that we were short by 3 pieces. After looking under couches, tables and everywhere else...I think..."It's Walmart - what do you expect?".

Grace handles the missing pieces well, and unphased dumps the next puzzle out: A golden retriever puppy. This one takes longer to work on. A few minutes here, a few minutes there. After a few days, it is complete - minus 5 pieces. I couldn't believe it! What are the odds?

Determined...she dumps the next puzzle - a kitty. Days later...it is complete, but once again, short up to 6 or 8 pieces. We have looked everywhere for the missing pieces to all of these puzzles, and found nothing. And then a clue. One gummed up puzzle piece shows up in the mouth of our 80 lb. Golden Retriever (Maggie). The next day, we find her with another.

Maggie has been snacking on puzzle pieces for two weeks!!! She is the only 8 year old dog I know who finds used tissues to be a delicacy. We should have put it together. But she is stealthy! Never once has she been spotted actually swiping the pieces from the table.

Bad dog. Bad, bad, dog.