Update, Month 7

Dear Kylee,

You are a week or so shy of 7 months old. You are a very, VERY pretty girl. When your ears are up from interest you have a stunning profile, but it's when they flop down into happy submission that I feel my heart melting. It's a great photo but part of me laughs because I swear it's a mug shot. Busted! At this particular time though, you were not in trouble, rather you were hopeful for a snack.


Here is the much hunted creature - the Princess Leia Lab.

Your hobbies and interests haven't changed very much, you still think you are quite small, but, aren't.

The once itty bitty showers.....

Are no more.

After your first long hike with Marley, your father wanted to wash the brown off of you. This is not the same as when I scream I am going the slap the brown off of you. You took the water as a personal insult and all but melded yourself to the end of the shower wall. I was close to going to the kitchen for a spatula to pry you off of it.

This morning you spooned with your father for at least two hours, making me almost fall to the floor as there isn't quite enough room for four on our bed. When I protested, your father said your breath smelled better so you had won the match.

When Bosslady's Daughter came to visit this week you went out of control, performing your renowned crotch pounce, I struggled with you for a minute or so when she came over and I admitted defeat "You get this end!" and the two of us finally got your crazed behind out the door. You are very strong. Strong and clumsy has made me look like a battered housewife for months now, and should I ever make a fake claim against your dad, I'd have a case with the wounds you've given me. You also have your father's mentality, in that when I yelp from you getting too rough, you give me the most sarcastic look and I think I even once heard you call me a wimp. So what! All fun and games until Mom gets hurt, remember she is the one who can open the fridge Kylee.

Your father and I had a quarrel this last week and in the middle of it, you walked between us and pissed on the floor. You swiftly ended our argument with this rather clever manuever. Both of us looked at you, then each other and couldn't believe what you had done. You walked two feet away, sat proper and looked at us to see if the squabble would continue. Interesting move, and proof you are in fact listening because I dismiss a lot of things and complain by saying "well piss!" You are wise beyond your young little mind.

I love you and you are trying to stay a good girl.

Love,

Mama

For Simon, yes YOU

Kylee won't stop eating her brother. Not just that, she sees the limp and a cradling of a bad leg and goes for it. We don't know what to do about it.

We built Simon an elaborate system of stairs that he completely ignores and comtinues to throw his stupid self off the bed/couch will full force. He is managing very well as a tripod and actually gets some decent momentum, but it pains us to watch it all the same.

He is not a drumstick Kylee! STOP IT! Honestly, he is just old. All she did was brush against him and every since he won't use the leg. I'm aware she isn't a shy lean, I'm embarrassed to go on interviews with all my wounds, but damn Simon...... we didn't know he was so fragile.

Now is not the time to be begging a knee surgery. We think if he would just use the damned stairs he could good himself a rest. I've all but lined them with fur to entice him, still, nothing. Advice is welcomed. we have been separating them when Kyles goes into "frantic tumble" but it's really becoming a drag. Not because we are inconvenienced, although there are times of "YOUR TURN!", but because the moment they are separated they whine to be back together. It's non stop breaking up fights. While I love Kylee I get pissed at her when she is rough on him. He is not 6 months old like you asshole knock it the fuck off! She's replies "pfffffft"

Simon does not like Kylee like she does Leedy, but he acts like a big brother, always watching where she is and if he needs to shake his head and let her know that it's not acceptable. Sometimes I think he hopes she'll be beaten and will point me to the right direction "She's over there, beat her." (I'm learning Russian).

Both Mr. Morrgan and I have noticed a strong down fall in Simon since Delilah moved out. She took a good part of his spirit with her, it makes us very sad. Mostly me, as they were mine. All mine. It's a difficult thing, he's not very smart, but it's so palpable.... just kills me again and again like the day we let her move out. I hate reminders.

I have my eye on him like mad, but even as silly as he is, he definitely has his own agenda, as do I, to keep my wee man happy, fed, and safe in his home. We'd have taken him to vet, but they've told us what's wrong and they say it doesnt hurt him. I have to say I am seriously not ready to deal with another dog aging and the consequences of it. My heart just can't. But those are the obligations, he'll be fine and pop that knee back in if he'll just stop ... being him? See the problem? Who am I to tell him how to live even if I know what's best. I have cared for him to be who he is, as long as he relieves himself outside and is a good listener. Tricky. Good thoughts for The Pickle. I'd post a photo, but it's depressing, so have chosen not to. The man deserves dignity during his down time.

- DM

Runs in the Family

Kylee spent her time well this weekend. She got drunk. We came home to find her leaning against the couch thinking about who her REAL friends were. As ever, click to enlarge the look of comtemplation on her face. She isn't sure at this point and by morning, NO ONE was her friend for not cutting her off early. Drinking has such phases, it starts with Wooooo this is fun! Then comes the belly check and the belch that might defy you. Lastly comes the "no one loves me phase."

She is clearly an angry drunk and had destroyed some things during this thinking.

Then.... what do a good many drunks do? They play baseball.

No idea which child lost this in my yard, but she owns it now.

I have told Mr. Morgan often to pick his bottles off the floor (yes sigh, floor) but he doesn't and a Corona was far too tempting to walk past.

-DM

Baptism

Those who steal must wash away their sins. This was shot as I screamed "Drop it!!" and jumped about stomping my wet feet in glee. Then of course I performed a proper speech repenting her bad doings. It was short, pretty much consisting of "Stop doing that."

Today Kylee ate the phone. The last of the only phone we have, which could have been a mercy killing, as it was a piece of shit since it's moment of going to factory. Regardless, she ate the damn thing and when I asked why she calmly explained that she was simply trying to call one of us and no one could "hear her now." To punish and express frustration she completely taught it a lesson in being useless.

I have a few people and items to send her way if she wants to be in charge of uselessness destruction.

I've come to an idea that I'm still tossing around. We have been thinking for a few months that she is afraid of the dark. I think I want to retract that. She's not afraid of it, she can't SEE in it. Watching very carefully I have seen her drop something inches from her in a darkened setting and she goes nuts sniffing for it. I hand it to her and she hops in elation "Oh my god, thank you so much I thought it was forever gone." I did this a few times. Same result.

We had been leaving the garage light on for her and there had been no inside accidents. The bulb burned out and instead of going outside, she relieves herself at the last point of light. I'm not certain, but I think my puppy is broken.

Send it back, newer, better, SMALLER puppy! I will have no defective puppy! She smiles warmly at me and raises an eyebrow wondering if I'm serious. Ok ok fair enough, Mama is decfective too, but she has a job - so take that!

- DM

Poached Please

Dear Kylee,

Today you are almost six months old. You are fairly clumsy and make no regrets, just like your mother. If people except us to maintain gait, well.... they are talking to the wrong pair. I have a bit of lead on you, but only by years.... you will likely catch up to me and we'll trip, fall, bruise ourselves and both look shocked together.

I told you the theme of 2008 Halloween and you promply auditioned.

Malice in Wonderland indeed!

But Malice doesn't have a receeding hair line, sorry baby girl you are destined to be a Tweedle.

You are giant and have gotten picky about your kibble. I suspect it is because you've been spoiled on human food. Tonight you tasted the first Sunday breakfast of your brown little life. I used to make Sunday break'in-fest for Leeds and the Pickle, of course for Mr. Morgan too, but I throw in 4 extra eggs so that all Morgans may enjoy the day with proper bellies. We normally do this around the time other people have break'in-fest, but Dad's tummy wasn't exactly interested until evening. You met my eggs with serious skeptisism. It was an egg bomb! - your face said. A trap! When you finally gave in and decided that potential death was worth the risk, all I saw was a blink of tongue and egg was gone. So were you.

It was prompt that you came back blaming your brother for eating your share. You remain a terrible liar.

I want to think it's because I'm a terrific cook, but I've found you with poop in your mouth, so I'm hardly flattered. You are being good for the most part, sometimes I think you are so damn smart and other times I think you are winging it and falling into credit by accident.

You wake me up every morning with a careful lick to my foot, as if to say "I'm up Mama let's play!" And boy do you sit at the end of the bed hoping that sweet lick will stir me. Then you pout when I scream "WHAT!" You'll have to forgive mom for not being a good waker-upper.

Trust me, both of your parents wake up looking for you and come to pet you like a moth to light while your brother yawns on, he's met you.

You definitely have a nice life, and seem to appreciate it. When approached you tumble to the ground belly up, wishing for affection. For that I give you a solid nod. You haven't a fear in the world and I like to take credit for your parents giving you so much security that you worry about nothing. It's a bit scary how fierce I've become over you, I'd be one of those mom's who throw cars like superman when their offspring is in harms way. Quite unexpected, but I suppose feeding and grooming a little beast will do that to a person. You fell into a difficult position by helping your dad move on, and by me not entirely wanting to see your face because it wasn't hers. You've done such with great dignity and eager wanting to be embraced. You walk into a room screaming "I'm Kylee!" and you strut that brown waggy tail. I love that about you.

Get ready little one, my holiday is upon us, brace for the costume assault.

Love,

Mama.

Thoughts on Kylee

Kylee is ready, time wise, for her spay. Mr. Morgan unexpecedly annouced that he thinks he might want to breed her.

Pardon?

We had made the decision long prior. I had a hard enough time buying a purebred dog, and to produce more hungry purebred mouths? No. He said:

"Don't you want a little Delilah?"
"No, I had one. I also don't want to look Kylee in the face and know her flower is gone."

The breeders we got Kyles from bred mama Yabby on first heat..... eep!!!! Absolutely not, this girl is to stay a virgin. I comprimised and bought a dog, he can comprimise and understand how hard that was for me, and that he will NEVER have another Leedy. I know he dumps so much of his lingering upset into Kylee, but this is Kylee love.... not LeedyBeat. It hurts me too babe, more than you. I still glare at the puppy when she chews on Lilah's half eaten bone, I want to take it away and someday I just might.

But she truly is a good and loyal beast with a loving spirit. She worries that Simon might not be getting enough to eat and completely defers to him.

Even when she wants it for herself SO much. Must enlarge for the true "God that looks delicious" expression below, but she shows no agression whatsoever. Even with an ass beating on the line for it, it's not in her to be territorial. Good girl, there is enough to go around.

She really really gives the Russian a hard time, but it's just the puppy in her. I don't want to see my girl with teets hanging to the floor, and herding a batch of little whiners for the sake of Mr. Morgan wanting to have her offspring for himself. I think it's more prudent to hit the kennels. If that isn't ok, call and see if Mama Yabby is expecting. Kylee is not a farm for babies, even if her temperment is exemplary and she is gorgeous. It's not what I signed up for.

She is still having accidents, still scared of the dark. She hates shame and understands it crisply. She is much like a child who knows they did bad and lurks in a hallway waiting to be accepted back into the fold to apologize, then bathes you in "omg omg I reallllllllly love you" kisses. All you see is one eye peeking around a doorway, hoping for acknowledgement. It's like the world stops to her when she is in trouble. She gets disoriented and doesn't know what to do but wait for the eye contact that says she isn't hated.

I'm quite more stern, we still don't hit, but damn she's big enough that has to be dragged because she runs. Tail tween legs and ass ahead of her face like a cartoon character. Mr. Morgan just looks at her and says "are you sorry? Ok, have some cheese"

What the???? She ate expensive junk by climbing, it's not like I left in on the floor. She can do no wrong. But .. whatever, let the puppy be one.... with only a few simple rules from Mom.

-DM

Round ... Many, and your first 4th

Dear Kylee,

We repeat "steal it you wear it". Fo the many-ith time! This time you stole panties. It's ok that you want to be a girly girl. I'll buy you some, honest if you will leave my underwear alone. Equal quality, I promise.

It's a bit disconcerning how much you enjoy them though. Those were not clean, not that Mama is nasty but you bee-lined for the dirty pile.

Firework Time! We watch from our porch, it's handy, visible and otherwise perfect.

Prior, I asked my fellow patriots to indulge me. The Russian cares not unless it means a live chicken chase as reward. I indicated this was reasonable and possible. But since he doesn't speak english, I later told him I lied. THAT, he understood and scowled off with his thumb of a tail giving me the universal finger.

Here we fight for the shot I wanted. We each had a flag, and of course you had to be the pain in the ass. "Get the photo, and fast!"

Stop eating the Russian. He is a friendly today.

Look what you did Kylee! Your mother is a sweaty mess trying to get you to play with the rest of the team! In the background, so you don't have to ask.... is a chunk of wall she ate. Why? (Only Kylee knows why she went mid wall to satisfy herself.)

But "Battle Born" Nevada you are.... carrying our state flag.

More on my main blog.... today, you are Proud to be an American, as you fill your craw with meat cheese and other things any animal ought not have if they want to live. We humans should take a note on that.

Hope all had a happy 4th.

-Love Mama

- DM