The Magic Of A Hug

Some days you just need a hug. Maybe even more than one hug.  And if you are blessed with someone in your life who can give you a hug on demand, you are blessed beyond words.

I am not blessed with someone who can always give me hugs on demand,  I mean the four-footed one has adventures to go and insects to sample.  She has puddles to splash in and grass to roll on.  In other words, she just isn’t always available to give me a hug.  Then there is that whole idea of wanting to give me a hug.  She doesn’t always want to give me a hug.

Sure there is Beloved, when he isn’t tied up wth work or travel or such.  And again there is that whole wanting to hug etc. But Beloved has a different way to supply me with hug.  You see he thinks warm drinks and soups are the answer thugs when the person isn’t able to give you a physical hug.

So Beloved made soup today.  He made potato soup and vegetable soup.  He made chicken noodle soup and dumplings.  I mean he just went crazy with soup.  And he made tea, bcause naturally tea is a hug as well.  For me, he chilled the tea, but for him he had it hot.  The soup, well most of that will be frozen until I, or he,mis in need of a hug.  Or are too lazy to cook.


A Different Picnic Style

Beloved had decided to take the four-footed one for a walk with a picnic at the end before returning home.  I had planned on staying home and doing a whole pile of nothing.  Well not because I was lazy, although there is nothing wrong with a full day of nothing either, but because lupus was happily active and stealing my energy and health.

The four-footed one went happily enough with Beloved for the walk, but she was dead set against the picnic.  Beloved wasn’t sure if it was because the four-footed one has a love-hate relationship with ants or if it was bcause he failed to back a nice blanket for them.  At any rate she wasn’t having a thing to do with the picnic.  She was so against it that she was not even interested in food.  So they ended up just coming back.

The four-footed one decided that she did want a picnic, just not outside.  Instead she vocally advocated to have the picnic in the house.  On our bed which I happened to be resting on.  The fact I wasn’t interested in crumbs on my bed was irrelevant to her.  She was hungry and had been promised a picnic.  So she pulled out her puppy dog eyes to use on Beloved and I and she leaned against me as if to say “please let me have my picnic”.

Beloved gave in and picnic on the bed commenced.  And after picnic?  She was already on the bed so stretching out for a nap, was as easy as just stretching out.  No need to find a comfortable spot because she already found it.

The Thief

A few years ago I lost my bed.  Well if you want to get technical I did not lose it so much as it got taken over by a the four-footed one.  Yes you read that right.  A wee dog, the size of a shoe box took over my large bed.  Don’t ask how because I’m still trying to figure that out.  I figure it’s dog magic of some sort!

To be honest I thought that was going to be the only thing she took over, other than my heart that is.  I was wrong friends. Oh so very wrong!  She basically fooled  me into a sense of false trust and what have you.  Something about puppy eyes and bidding her time.

She took over a quilt a few months ago.  Just randomly took it over by sitting on it and then just making it her’s.  So okay I could get on board with the quilt on account of the fact it was on a bed.  So it’s sort of similar to her taking over my bed.  Or maybe I’ve just come to accept that all things bed related may be fair game to her.

But now she’s taken over my chair.  Not just any chair, but the chair I use when I’m reading or working.  She just hopped up into it and curled up into a ball of cute, sleeping puppiness.  And each time she’s left the chair and I’ve managed to use it, she waits for me to leave so she could reclaim her throne.  Pretty sure this is not a game of who owns the throne, but you try telling her that.  Oh and if you could get my throne back for me…

Making Friends

The four-footed one is not shy about making friends.  Or rather not shy about running up to see if she can make a new friend.  She is a throw-caution-into-the-wind kind of girl.  Of course she is also a moody being at times so this making of friends is sort of hit and miss right now.

Today she decided to make a new friend, or at least tried to.  Except I got in the way of this budding friendship she was pursuing.  Yes I am mean that way.  Mostly because I didn’t approve of this new friend-to-be.  I didn’t like the look of him.

I know, that sounds shallow and petty, but it is true.  I kind of have a thing with legs you see.  Two legs are good.  Four legs, not a problem.  Beyond that, I get uncomfortable.  This new friend she was seeking had like a hundred legs with little hook like ends on them.  So yeah I didn’t approve.  

The way I see it, anything that is long with a segmented body and a hundred legs is not rally a friend of mine.  Can’t really trust it.  Besides it may be poisonous.  

And knowing the four-footed one, if she didn’t make friends with the many-legged creature, she would try to eat it.  And I suspect that wouldn’t go well.

Sheep, Herding And Where Are You

The four-footed one has decided to summon her inner sheepdog.  She is not a sheepdog, not even a partial one.  And as far as I know there shouldn’t be a herding bone in her body.  And yet here she is, herding sheep.  Except we don’t have sheep.  But this minor fact doesn’t not deter her.  Not in the least.

So far birds have become her primary sheep substitute.  But she has tried to round up and herd insects too.  This has not gone well. Not even remotely.  It seems that when her herd is a set of ants, she kills them when she is trying to get them to move.  And now and then you know somehow the herd gets under her paws.  Hey stuff happens when they are that tiny.

But she’s not picky.  Not in the least.  She has tried, unsuccessfully, to herd Beloved and I towards her food dish, the bedroom or the door.  It just depends on her mood.  

I am pleased to say that true to form, I am not a sheep.  I do not move with the crowd and apparently I’m not easy to herd or corral.  Beloved is more likely to move as the four-footed one directs him.  Apparently he has a bit more inner sheep n him than I do.  I guess that makes me less of a herd creature!

And we need that.  We need herd creatures to, but we also need those ndividals who aren’t so easy to herd.

All Fall Down

Some days you just need to find a place and collapse for a bit.  You may have been very busy prior to this moment.  Maybe you’ve had a  lot of deep thoughts or wrestlingg matches with decisions.  And maybe, just maybe, you have no “real” reason for needing collapse.  You just do.

And today was one of those days.  For the four-footed one.  She managed a wee walking and then decided she just needed to collapse.  She wasn’t sick, she hadn’t been running or using up a lot of energy.  She just wantd to come home, find her bed and collapse.  Not to sleep.  But to be.

I completely understand because sometimes we all need that.  Having lupus seems to result in me needing more of those moments.  Of course having lupus also means being exhausted in a very different way.  A way that no rest fixes.  No amount of collapsing fixes,  but it works some how to just collapse and simple be.

So the four-footed one collapsed n her bed with her toys and I grabbed a book to read.  Because sometimes collapsing means reading a book, or checking things out nine.  It really doesn’t matter.

So if you feel like needing to collapse, consider doing yourself a favour and listening to your body or mind.  Take a break.  Collapse however you do that.  Because sometimes we all need to be able to collapse into nothingness.

Cleaning Crisis

There was a crisis today in our household.  Almost to the extent of the earth stopping spinning.  Well at least as far as the four-footed one was concerned.  For me, it didn’t even require a sec d  thought.  But then again no one took my most precious object, the one that provides me comfort and joy, and tossed it into the “great churning hole”.  Or as you may know it, the washing machine.

That is correct, I washed my darling companion’s precious stuffed puppy.  I boldly took it from her and gingerly carried it to the “great churning hole” to be made clean nice again.  I mean this stuffed puppy was looking less like a puppy and more like a pile of dirty fluff.  And I’m sure if you asked the court-fitted one, she was just fine with her puppy looking that way.

I suppose I should be more tolerant of her precious things.  I mean she works hard to get them into the shape she does.  She carries them in her mouth.  She drops them in her water dish.  She has covered them remains of the treat she was chewing earlier.   And she has placed them in piles of dirt.  I guess to her these are all appropriate things.

Where as to me, they are in need of a good go-around in the wash and properly dried.  So that’s what happend.  Bcause I am bigger than she is.  Don’t worry, when her puppy was removed from the dryer she promptly got on with  getting it back to the way she likes it…dirty.  And so just like the washing machine, we are set into a routine cycle of clean and fresh to dirty and back again.  And again.