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My Profile
Can you hear it now? - 2009-07-02
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8:23 a.m. - 2008-07-14
It's been almost 6 weeks, I guess I should finally say something about the newest member of the Sage family. *Author's note: This should be a good object lesson for those who assume a blog tells the whole story of anyone's life, especially mine. Wordy as my blog is, there are still lots of things I do not share here. So next time someone is inclined to climb on a high horse and give out to me about what I wastrel I am and what I should or should not be doing with my life basing their grandiose assumptions on the belief they have the whole picture from my blog perhaps those high horsemen should think again. ~LA Today: Installment #1 of the real Princess Diary Saturday June 14: Another Princess joins the Sage household. I waited a very long time to be a princess, so long it's absurd to even use the term 'princess'. Dowager Empress, maybe, I certainly have the jowls and ginormous swell of bosom that go with being your basic gone-to-seed royal, but the truly great thing about being an old bag is not caring a fig about 'supposed to' and just doing as I please. So if I want to be a princess then I am a princess and no one can say different. You'd think since finally attaining my princesshood I wouldn't be in any hurry to let any other princesses in to steal my thunder and be cuter than I am, but there's a fetching little redhead out on my enclosed front porch as I write this and she is a darling princess indeed. I couldn't help it. She needed a home. And I am, as we all know, a notorious soft touch. I might look like Gojira's meaner big sister, but my inside is made of pure spun sugar and fluffy goo. See, Mick knew of my desire to acquire a purse puppy and when the owner of his gym said she had a 'little dog' in need of a good home he thought maybe I should go see her. Princess was being given away for free, all that was necessary was that her current owner be satisfied she was going home with good folks. So we went to meet Princess. A purse puppy she is not. A Pomeranian/Sheltie crossbreed, she's a good 18lbs and almost knee-high. But what a sweetie! And when I heard her sad tale I could not pass her over so I could get some over-bred hysterical barking lint ball. See Princess didn't start out in the best of homes. She was beaten and neglected. Thoroughly terrorized. When she was rescued by the gym lady along with already being saddled with a gross misnomer- 'Prisoner' would have been more apt, Princess was skinny, caked with feces and couldn't stop shivering. The poor wee doggie spent the next 6 months being gentled and cared for by a very loving and patient dog mommy. Alas the dog mommy is very busy with her many other dogs and running the gym and caring for the passel of children, grandchildren, and other critters on her farm. She just didn't have the time to be there for Princess as she'd like to be. Now a lot of people would be wary of a dog that had started life so badly and they'd be wise in doing so. But Princess isn't an angry dog. She's not aggressive. She didn't become a psycho. Princess is shy and scared instead. Shaky, but friendly and anxious to please, only needing some warmth and a place to feel safe. I can relate. Boy, can I relate. I think Princess knows this. She and I are already friends. I've been sitting on the porch with her. Sometimes talking and coaxing her to come out of the corner she's curled up in. The rest of the time I'm just there, quietly waiting and letting her relax. She can't bear for Wolf or Mick to touch her yet, but during my last visit I sat on the floor reading my book and Princess came out and laid her head on my leg. I am such a goner. Aside from my desire for a purse puppy (which was mostly a happy fantasy about the accessories and putting bows in its hair) I have been ambivalent about ever really getting a dog. To me it seemed that getting a dog was basically signing up to have a hairy toddler in the house for about 15 years. Always having to worry about what the dog was getting into and what it was eating that it shouldn't, and mess and noise, and forever, ever, ever having to be mindful of its bowel functions. Seemed crazy to volunteer for that, especially when cats are so self-sufficient but fill the warm furry niche ably with some lap sitting and purring. On the plus side my son really needs a playmate. He's been asking for a dog on and off for years now. I never relented because I knew all the work and worry would be mine. Now Wolf is old enough to take on some of the work and is responsible enough to be a good dog friend. And Princess, who will relax and become more 'doggy' eventually, is a refined young miss who is thoroughly housebroken, whip smart, and not the least bit barky. I have a sneaky we have lucked onto one of those amazing well-behaved dogs that cause other people to marvel and ask how she got to be so good. Since she's half Sheltie it will be fun watching her as she tries to herd whatever's available. Wolf is a herd of one so I'm thinking Princess will spend a lot of time trying to herd the cats. They'll be thrilled with this, I'm sure. I know the honeymoon will be over when Princess finally gets around to dumping the trash cans or digging my panties out of the hamper or chews one of the banister spindles into kindling. She is a dog after all. But a lovely dog whose horrible puppyhood couldn't kill her heart and if anything made her more aware of the goodness of love. A sweetie who gives back everything she's got when patted gently and spoken to nicely. Something I'm more than happy to do, I was beaten puppy too. It's been a good start and can only get better. Since Mick came this is a house full of love. I know we two survivor Princesses are going to be just fine.
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