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The season is changing and the brisk fall weather is here to stay. Maverick is 6 months old now. He’s been a perfect gentleman with his training. He doesn’t pull and responds well to commands, which is more than I can say for anyone else in my family. Then the first fall leaf fell. It was like watching a scene from Jurassic Park when the dinosaurs spots a runner..gone. Whatever that leash may be attached to is simply along for the ride.  No command, no amount of strength and no treat could possibly stop the overwhelming satisfaction that must come with “leaf pouncing”.

Let me explain the sport. All  75 pounds of Golden Retriever must project into the air and land with both front feet on top of each moving leaf. Grasping it in his mouth is bonus points. Each moving leaf must be touched or you lose points. This requires twists and pounces in every which direction. You advance in levels as the master (the idiot holding the leash) starts to lose patience. As the tension on the leash increases it makes the moves more difficult to maneuver. The yanking and distracting bribes increase as the game goes on. Encouraging the kids to participate is extra points. Loss of balance or tripping of the leash holder is an instant win.  Any eye contact with the idiot leash holder is an instant game over.

Being a true competitive athlete, Maverick  has decided to practice his new found talent at home. He has apparently hired Walter, our cranky orange cat, as a personal coach. Walter sits upon the counter and tosses objects onto the floor encouraging the dog to practice his moves. He swats his head on the hire pounces, which I assume is to keep him focused with distractions. On occasion, he’ll toss an object and join the fun himself.  Maverick watching his every move with envy, then immitates him the best he can with an invisible object.

Furniture is disturbed, I have no more hair ties or pencils and both my arm feel dislocated. Maverick  is in his bed spooning with Walter who’s purring so loud it can be heard over the sound of the fighting children. Watching these two creatures become forever friends over a mutually loved sport makes it all worth it.

 

 

 

April showers bring May flowers. September mold brings the back to school cold. Olivia has been walking around the house with an obnoxious cough, spreading her germs like Typhoid Mary. I’m not even wasting my time with Lysol. Unless I hook it up to a power washer it’s hopeless. We’re all going down on this ship with the germs she’s managed to spread in less than 24 hours. I gave her a dose of Robitussin last night to help psychologically relieve her desire to exaggerate her cough every time her brother tells her to stop coughing. This morning, without even thinking I gave it again. As she swallowed it down I had to hold the profanity back..cough meds mean no ADHD meds..great…

Olivia arrived home from school making a miraculous recovery from her cold. From the speed she was going I’m convinced it was from her adrenaline pumping at a superheroes speed accelerating the healing process. Even the germs couldn’t handle the speed she was at. Fortunately schools are closed tomorrow giving her teachers a day to recoup. I could only imagine what they experienced.

Maverick seemed to enjoy the chipmunk speed she was moving at. He copied a few of her stunts for an hour or so. He tired out and he seemed to enjoy his front row seat to the Olivia show as she continued to spin over and around the kitchen island like a gymnast on a pommel horse.

After 4 hours of house shaking from the Olympic tryouts in the kitchen, Ed finally attempted to put a stop to it. He screamed at her to stop. “Dad, I can’t. Robert Tootsen is making me do it”.

Who is this Robert Tootsen encouraging these superhuman stunt that are occurring in my kitchen? Must be one of those You Tubers. So I google him. Nothing. I wasn’t going to look like a fool in front of my kids and ask who this mysterious Robert was as I want to be up to par with the latest tween obsessions.  I did the next best thing. I texted a co worker in a much younger age bracket asking if she had heard of him. Nope.

Ed procedured to question her on who this bad influence was and lecturing her on the dangers of the stunts occurring on You Tube. She was completely incapable of sitting in a chair and proceeded her acrobats around the house, winded and out of breath, laughing at the awkwardness of the conversation.

Finally I snapped.

Me: “Cut the crap, Liv! Who is Robert Tootsen?”

She gave me that look. Without missing a step she proceeds to open the kitchen cabinet mid air and pull out the bottle of Robitussin..“Robert Tootsen”. (Did I mention she’s dyslexic?)

Ed and I contained our laughter and slipped into the other room before breaking out with hysterics. Fortunately for us, it appeared Robert had done his job and our need for him is no longer. Aside from possibly having to strap her to her bed to get her to sleep tonight, life should be back to normal in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

We live on Treasure Lake. Unfortunately it’s more of a glorified swamp. Should I ever list my house it would have to be between December and March so the mutant snapping turtles are in hibernation and the water is clear. That being said, it’s September. All of the above do not apply.

As my husband Ed and I sat on the deck having our coffee this morning watching the turtles mating, it came up in conversation how surprised we are that Maverick hasn’t shown any interest in the lake. We joked that it probably doesn’t even smell like water. If you have a water dog you understand that when they’re around water they seem to grow fins and transform into seals with the blink of an eye. I gave myself a pat on the back for the excellent training I did teaching the dog to stay away from the swamp.

Fast forward 2 hours. The family is doing yard work. Maverick was on the deck. The kids are drinking Gatorade. One side effect of having 2 ADHD children drinking a disgustingly over sugared beverage is they transform into chipmunks before the last swallow. Any form of organization you thought you had instantly goes out the window. They were in and out of the house laughing one minute and fighting the next. When the dust settled and the heart rates reached a normal level again I heard those dreaded words..”Where is Maverick?”

Throughout the 200 trips in and out of the house, one of them left the gate open. We look over towards the lake and there he was. My beautiful Golden Retriever had become “The Swamp Monster”. Every inch of him was covered with the infamous lake muck. As the wind hit us so did the odor. The lake muck is so foul it makes a skunk smell like perfume. The only thing cute about the entire scene was the stick that he proudly held that I’m sure he made a valiant effort to save from the water. Fortunately all his limbs were still attached. The snapping turtles gave him a pass on his first plunge.

Several hours and 2 baths later Maverick looks like himself again. Mind you I said looks..he still smells like something that stopped breathing a week ago. The door opens and in comes Jake like a bull in a china closet. “Mom! Check out these luscious black locks of Love!” He proudly jumps up and down letting his overgrown hair pounce on his head.

Reminder: hair cut tomorrow. That should be an adventure.

7:20 AM

8th grade. After weeks of preparation and hundreds spent on clothes my morning began with my handsome 13 year old son attempting to walk out the door with this new style called “homeless”. It’s quite a creative look. You have to dig to the bottom of your drawers to find the oldest t shirt you can find and shorts that don’t match. Wearing clothing that’s dirty and wrinkled in the bottom of your closet is a bonus. Every attempt is then made to make sure your socks not only mismatch, but are also different lengths. Hair cannot be cut or brushed..the greasier the better. This look is sealed with unbrushed teeth and an attitude as bad as the odor coming from the old sneakers that are clearly more fashionable than the new ones still sitting in the box. My outfit change suggestion came with a snarky response in a voice I’m still learning to recognize.

While awaiting for Prince Charming to change into a more appropriate outfit, I took the few minutes I had to tackle the dishes piling in the sink that were neglected by the 11 year old princess sulking in the corner because I won the “You cannot wear high heels to school” battle.

Maverick was entertaining himself as we were all preoccupied with our morning madness. He pranced around our kitchen tossing is monkey into the air and catching it. Just as I loaded the last dish into the dishwasher, Maverick’s collar caught the rack.

The rack flew out of the dishwasher attached to the panicked 5 month old pup. His alligator roll tactic for escape sent the dishes crashing into the tile floor. The great escape continued. The rack slammed against the cabinets and  bounced off the refrigerator sending the few dishes that held on into the air and smashing into the floor. Poor Maverick let out a scream and proceeded to urinate all over himself and me as I came to his rescue, unattaching the collar and the evil dishwasher rack that was trying to kill him.

As I calmed down the puppy from his near death experience, Jake had successfully completed his outfit change. The hair on the other hand was a battle for another day. I cleaned the broken glass and bodily fluids  off the floor and took a few moments to convince Maverick that he could pass the dishwasher without getting eaten.

“No Olivia. You can’t wear wedges to school”. I actually felt that eye roll response.

7:50Am. Deep breath..and off we go.

 

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton