I remember driving out to a farm that raised Arabian horses and Pomeranians to look at a puppy. I pulled into the driveway and saw a moving mass of hair to the left–kind of what you envision clouds in heaven looking like, only they were puff balls of about 20 Pomeranians. Of course, once I stepped out of the car, they were barking and excited. A woman walked out of the house and told them to be quiet and silence followed. No doubt, she was the alpha female. So, I followed her to the fenced area and she called over the parents of the puppies she had available, one by one. This was not a puppy mill. Each of these dogs had a name, knew it, and were very well behaved. I was amazed. Dumbfounded is probably a better description since I’m sure my mouth was agape.
We then went inside to see the puppies. I had a blond Pomeranian growing up and assumed I would want another blond. But the ones she had were little butt holes–I could just tell. Then, she brought out the “runt” of the litter. A little black-masked, multicolored Pom. I looked at her little face, she winked at me, and I was like did she just wink at me? (the answer is yes, it was her trademark move) So, I went home to think about it and went back the next day to get her. Her alpha female had just fed her and she was all happy and ready to go. Then, in her kennel, in the back of the car, I learned that a full belly during the first car ride is not the best idea. By the time we got home, she had vomited around the entire perimeter of the kennel. A perfect circle of hell from a sweet little angel…..and so our story began.
Sable was my first child. A sweet, wickedly smart, stubborn little girl. She had beautiful red hair with black and blond highlights (sable is the technical name of the color and also the name of a WWE wrestler she may have been named after). She was a fast learner and I am confident she could have been successful in agility contests. She never once ran away, even when she had the chance (she knew she was living the good life LOL). When it was washing day for her stuffed toys, she would sit outside of the laundry room door, stare at it, and wait–always aware of who was where and what was happening. She did not physically age gracefully, but she was a trooper and handled it better than most people would have. Being connected to her the way I was, I knew she was comfortable and content. And she knew I would care for her with every resource available (including acupuncture–which worked amazingly well, BTW). Ultimately, in September 2014, after 15.5 years of preparing for her untimely death, she passed away peacefully laying next to my heart, where she will remain.
Anyway, I know she loved me, but she may have loved peanut butter more. Just a crack of the jar and her big brown eyes were focused on your every move. So, naturally, I had to provide the little Princess with homemade peanut butter dog biscuits. I am sharing this recipe because every dog should have these at least once in their lifetime. :)
You don’t have to use a bone shaped cookie cutter–you can roll them out and just cut them into squares. But, the little bone shapes are freaking adorable.
2 cups whole wheat flour
2 Tbs ground flax
1 Tbs baking powder
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup milk (regular or Almond Milk)
1. Preheat oven to 375° In a large bowl, combine flour and baking powder. In another bowl, mix peanut butter and milk. Add wet mixture to dry and mix well.
2. Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead. Roll out to ¼ inch thick and cut out shapes.
3. Place on a greased baking sheet and bake 20 minutes or until slightly brown. Cool on a rack, then store in an airtight container.
Bone cookie cutters, Amazon, usually under $6 for a set of 3 as of 4/2015.
I have not spent very much time creating blog posts the last couple of weeks. Since I do this in my spare time (I don’t know what that means, so I will call this a hobby), redesigning the Blog’s home page and mobile format has taken up most of that available time! But, I hope that the changes make browsing easier and “prettier”. :) (more…)
Christmas brought a few new toys into our home, and refreshed the passion I have for my ongoing war with noisy toys. One toy in particular, “Let’s Dance”, got me labeled as “grumpy” after it was unwrapped (I will now only refer to it as “Toy 0” since it prompted this
manifesto post). In my defense, Toy 0 ended up being so loud in our living room that you cannot hear anyone talking if it’s on. Another new toy happens to be a set of flying monkeys that I told my mom to order, not realizing they had sound. They are so cute, little slingshot hands, masks, capes (nothing will get hurt with those, right?). Then I saw a white tab sticking out of their back and instinctively removed it……and the screaming began. Not just an excited little “hey, look at me–I’m flying!!!” kind of noise, it was more of a screaming banshee kind of noise, only less charming. WHY, WHY, WHY???? Why would a manufacturer do this to a stuffed toy? Even the 5 year old said “it’s so loud” and pointed out that since it is a flying monkey that it doesn’t need to scream because “it’s already a superhero”.
12/24/13: Before bed, we asked the boys which side of the tree they wanted Santa to leave their gifts on so we could leave him a note. The boys were 4 and 2, so the 4 year old was pretty excited about it all and chose the left side. The 2 year old didn’t really know what was going to happen.
12/25/13: 6:00 am–when our version of A Christmas Story begins. The stage is set, but instead of turkey it was the gifts Santa left, and instead of the Bumpus’ hounds it was a very excited 4 year old, Brandon. (more…)
The boys were working diligently at the old school desk my Dad worked on a couple weeks before he died. It was the last project he had started and I finished it the weekend before his funeral. I was feeling sentimental, taking their picture, thinking about how much Dad would have enjoyed seeing the boys working together at this charming little desk. And this picture–the lighting, the sweetness of two brothers at this tender age–it was just too much. They were just as busy as they could be–drawing, coloring, practicing their new found writing skills, but most importantly–they were not fighting. It was a lovely moment in time.
And it was about to end in the most hilarious way possible. (more…)