Quilting Cat

 Checkers, a large black and white cat with soft, fluffy fur, loved to be in the center of things in my mom's sewing room.  Mom and I would spend hours in this bright room working together on our quilts.  A favorite style was the "quilt as you go" pattern.  This involved working in long rows  where you would sew the front, batting and backing all together from one long, wide strip to the next.  When finished with all of the rows, you simply squared the quilt and added the binding.  

This method required a lot of pins.  Mom and I would work from one end and pin the pieces to each other until we reached the far end.  It was then that we noticed there were no pins at the beginning...or the middle.  All the pins were sticking out of the mouth of the black and white cat like miniature swords.  The more we pinned, the faster the cat removed them.  This earned him the nickname "Quilting Cat" but not because he was helpful.  We had to ban him from the quilting room but he was a clever quilting cat.  Checkers would go outside and jump onto the window sill, watching and howling his displeasure with his exile.

I still make quilts and sometimes, when I am pinning my pieces, I turn my head to check that all the pins are still in place.  You just can't tell when another quilting cat will enter your life.

Dog Guard

Charlie had some cognitive issues that came with age and potential dementia.  At times he would get lost in the house, stuck in corners, cords, furniture and even the water bowl.  He was at his best during the day and when outside, he stuck close to the house.  Usually…

And then we lost him.  A cognitively impaired, fully deaf, partially blind dachshund.  The Englishman grabbed a flashlight and pushed his feet into an old pair of sneakers.  “He’s not in the street” he called to me.  We searched the bushes, straining to hear Charlie in the early morning darkness.  Even the birds were not awake.  Operation Find Charlie moved to the back yard.  I gingerly poked the foliage trying not to walk into spider webs. 

“I see him!” shouted the Englishman.  A small brown dog was teetering on the edge of our pond.  And then the dog disappeared.  The Englishman sprinted, Bay Watch style, and jumped into the pond. 

“I saved him just before he went under!” The Englishman declared.

He emerged with the flashlight in one hand and a sopping wet Charlie tucked under his arm.  Charlie’s paws were still rapidly paddling.  The Englishman ran toward the house instructing me to “get a dog towel”.  The shower spray rapidly warmed and he jumped into it with the shivering dog.  I could hear him talking to Charlie and apologizing for not getting him as clean as possible.  The warm and dripping dog was handed to me and I wrapped him in his towel before gently blowing him dry.

At some point in our journey with our four legged companions roles became reversed.  What once was a great guard dog now needed a Dog Guard.  And it seemed that this morning, that title belonged to The Englishman. 

The Dog Knows

Dogs know when they look ridiculous.

When I was a teenager, my mom took our very fluffy Keeshond to the groomer for a summer shave.  The resulting look was a lion head with leg warmers.  He hid for days.

I tried many costumes on Chase.  He cheerfully wore them in the house, sheltered from the judgement of strangers.  He had a tuxedo, a wizard hat, bunny ears and red, glittery devil horns.  My vacation to Key West happened to occur during their annual Fantasy Fest.  All the glitter and gaudiness was out in full force.  I thought it was a perfect moment to debut the devil horns.  Chase allowed me to put them on his head.  He obediently followed me out the door and down the brick pathway, lined with privacy fencing to the street.  Upon reaching the street, he violently tossed his head back and forth until he was free of the horns.  Undeterred, I put them back on his head and began dragging him toward Duval Street.  Chase tossed the horns again, pressed a paw on the top to secure them in place and ripped them to shreds.  Bits of red material and white fluff littered the street.  I have never made him wear another costume.  Ever.  

"They say the smart dog obeys but the smarter dog knows when to disobey".  Amy Hempel