Last Will and Testament of Pooh Bear Dog

Most of you were unaware that as Bear wrote his Facebook page and his blog, he was suffering from severe heart disease.  It was diagnosed not much before that fateful day in April when he happened upon the pack of pit bulls.  And while he healed from his attack his heart, unfortunately, continued quickly down the reverse path of deterioration.  We chose not make it public because we wanted his page and this subsequent blog to be happy, fun, and upbeat, not sad. We wished to dwell on the good things, not the bad.   So when he finally told me the time was drawing near, we decided to write this.  This is not for your dog as much as it is for you.  We wrote this together in hopes that he will be remembered not by what he had, but by what he gave—to me and to you. 

First off to my mom:  Mom, it kills me to watch you cry.  Please do not cry over me.  It is a fact of life that I have to leave.  No it’s not fair, but we’ve had that discussion before.  Life is not fair.  But I have long ago accepted it and I want you to, as well.  Please know that I have and will always love you and I will always be there in your heart and in spirit.  I couldn’t have asked for a better home and a better life.  I only hope this knowledge will eventually replace the agony that occupies your heart now.  I consider myself to be one of the luckiest dogs that lived.  Thank you for giving me all I could ever want.

As for my worldly possessions:   

I have very few material possessions and, really, since Sophie joined us, they became hers, too.  So I give my toys to her and hope she will play with them and enjoy them as much as I did.  I have told mom not to bury me with the Turkey or the Meercat.  I will have plenty of toys at the Rainbow Bridge.  Let others who follow me play with them so that they bring both of you much enjoyment.

The remainder of my considerable wealth I give to you, my friends from life.  These are the possessions that made me the richest and the happiest and I want you all to have them now:

To my friends that are sad I give you my Joy.  Life is too short not to be happy.  Joy at a cool autumn day rolling in the leaves.   Joy at lunging at a wave and trying to catch it in your mouth.  Joy at the anticipation of a good dinner and eating it!  Joy at green beans ripening on the vine and being able to sneak one.  Joy at eating wild raspberries off the vine.   Joy at a good roll in the snow.   These are the simple pleasures that give joy and life is nothing if it is not happy and joyful.   If you cannot smile, if you do not fill your heart with joy, if you fail to enjoy the simple things, instead filling your time with futile pursuit of material wealth, then, in the end, you will have nothing. 

To my friends that are anxious, I give you my Peace.  Peace of mind and peace of heart.  I give you the ability to let go of the bad and hold on to all that is good.  Do not dwell on that which you cannot control.  Calm your heart and calm your mind.

To those who are afraid, I give you my Courage.   Courage to go on when you face adversity.  Courage to understand that what is right might not be the easiest.  Courage to stand up to those who hurt you.  Courage to accept the good and the bad.  Courage to hurt.   Courage to love. 

To those weak of heart or fragile of spirit, I give you my Strength.  Strength to heal and strength to accept you might not.  Strength to press on through pain and hardship.  Strength to do what is right and resist doing what is not.  Strength to go on living. Strength to let go.

To my friends who are troubled, I give you my Acceptance.    To accept you don’t always understand.  To welcome change and newness as if it were a special treat.  To accept others into your life.  To accept what life deals you.  To accept defeat.  To accept yourself.

To those that are angry, I give you my Grace.  Kindness.  Dignity. Mercy.   Moral Strength.   All living things deserve grace.  To have grace when you, yourself, are not at your best. 

To those who have been wronged, I give you my Forgiveness.  To err human, to forgive, canine.  I give you forgiveness so that you can forgive others who have hurt you.  And so you can forgive yourself.  Life is far too short to carry the burden of anger and revenge in your heart.  It leaves no room for the greatest gift of all. 

And that greatest gift I give to you is my Unconditional Love.  It is the product of all of the riches for if you have joy, forgiveness, courage, acceptance, grace and strength, you will have unconditional love.  Give it.  Receive it.  It is the most powerful and precious gift in life.  Love, like your dog loves you. 

Finally, I ask that you watch over my mom.  She always thought that I was a pushover; that I would not be the protector Dakota was.  But that was so untrue.  I just let her think that so that she would become stronger on her own.  I was always ready to jump in should someone threaten her or us, but I wanted her to build her own courage and not rely on me.  And although she succeeded, I still worry about her.  So if you would, please keep an eye on her and make sure that Sophie has taken the responsibility.  I think Sophie will—I trained her well—but as my momma’s protector, well, I worry. 

I was one of the lucky ones.  I had a more than an above average life.  I had two good homes and I never had to suffer.  I had a mom and dad that didn’t ask much of me, but gave me much in return.  I was encouraged to play but wasn’t expected to perform.  I was asked to help but wasn’t punished if I failed.  I was always loved and realized early on that discipline was meant for my safety and health and nothing else.   My time here was shorter than I had hoped, but it was a full life and I have no sadness or regrets.  I was able to die with dignity.  And I was with my mom to my last breath.  I could not ask for more.

So thank you my friends.  For being my friend and for allowing me to entertain you.  Mom helped heal me. You helped heal my mom.   I only hope I helped you.  Dogspeed and I look forward to meeting you all at “the bridge”.  *AWWOOO*

Postscript:  While Bear’s spirit will always be in our hearts, HIS heart will be teaching future generations of veterinarians.  His heart is at the Ohio State University Veterinary Medical School so that other dogs might benefit from what their doctors learn.  

CELERY

Yup, celery.  I figured it would be easier to list the foods I dislike rather than all the ones I do.  And the list is very short.  Celery.  Don’t like it.  Even doused in cheese or peanut butter.  So that it’s, everybody!  Shortest blog ever.  *HOWL*

My original thoughts were to name this Food Glorious Food.  And oh, is it ever.  But when I tried listing all my fav’s, I got so hungry and distracted (and you know my propensity for digression) that it just went awry.  I’ve started and stopped this blog for months…. mainly to go get a snack, and then I just can’t get it done.  Y’know I’m on a diet and all. 

So the original title and theme is below.  It is the last stanza from one of my favorite songs (‘cuz as you know my favorite songs are the ones mom sings to me):

Food, glorious food!
What wouldn't we give for
That extra bit more --
That's all that we live for
Why should we be fated to
Do nothing but brood
On food,
Magical food,
Wonderful food,
Marvelous food,
Fabulous food,
Beautiful food…..Glor-i-ous… FOOD.

You can just hear it can’t ya?  Music to my ears and tummy.

This sums up my life pretty good.  Well, not actually, but a good part of it. 

So, I figured it was time my mom indulged me and let me talk about food.  Well, she could indulge me more and let me have some, but I’ve long given up hope of anything fun.  Somehow some way she has decided that she can’t control what SHE eats so she has to control my intake.  *WHINE* It’s just not fair is it???  Ah geez, here I go again digressing!

I am not quite sure why I’m this way.  I mean I have siblings that can, with pure ease, turn their noses up and walk away from the bowl.  At first I was dismayed, SHOCKED, but now I encourage it, because it means I get more!  Can you imagine though?  Walking away from food?!   I’ve always, ever since I came to live with Mom and Dad, loved eating.  And eating just about ANYTHING.  It didn't have to be real food either.  Have you heard the story about when I ate the baby kitty’s toy mouse?  How was I supposed to know that the thing she threw right on the floor almost directly in front of me was simply a cardboard shaped mouse covered in faux fur and a leather tail?  I thought it was food and I gulped it right down—in front of the kitty (who of course started to cry) and Mom and Dad who cried for a different reason (I am not sure I like being laughed at). 

Over the past several months you’ve come to learn some of things I consider delicacies.  Blueberries.  Raspberries.  Green Beans.  Grapes (don’t go telling my doctor that), paint, carpet tack strips…..I’m not too discriminate when it comes to food.  Again, it doesn't have to even be real food, although I keep trying to eat anything in hopes it turns out to be real.  What kind of foods have I attempted to eat? Well, hmmm, the list is long.  Drywall.  Drywall dust.  Drywall mud.  Wood trim.  Wood putty.  Grass.  Fuzz.  Rubber toys.  (*sigh* usually mom brags that she can tell at the end of winter where I have gone potty.  That’s just wrong, y’know?) And the list goes on.  Mom says she’s really thankful I don’t eat, um, shall we say, previously eaten food that might find itself outside.  ‘Course I can’t imagine doing that.  I mean, why not eat it the FIRST time!  What’s the point if someone ate it first and digested it!  *HOWL*

And so we’re back to celery.  Human food?  The best.  Except celery.  Like I said, I don’t like it.  Not sure why, but I don’t.  Onions and garlic, no problem (yup, we know they’re bad for ya!).  Vegetables?  Bring ‘em on.  We have friends that won’t eat “B” fruit—bananas, blueberries, etc.  Oh my Dawg.  Those are the best.  Watermelon, apples, cereal, you name it.  Rice is for tummy aches?  Darn.  Warm oatmeal?  Discovered that just the other day.  YUM.  Heck even medicine is pretty good…’specially those things she calls ‘chewbles’.  Who chews? 

So there.  Probably a little anticlimactic for some, but something I had to get off my chest (to make room for more food!).  I hope I brought a smile to your face today.  And I’ll betcha you know a dog that shares my passion for eating. 

Gotta go…Time for a snack.  Thanks for reading everybody.  Hope you were Bearmused today!

Make New Friends….

But keep the old…one is silver and the other gold.  Hmmm, silver and gold.  Can you eat that?  If not, well, maybe we can rename the song, “make new friends but keep the old, one is prime rib and the other liver…” oh, that doesn’t rhyme.  Sorry. 

Mom sang that song to me the other day (along with everything else she sings about!) but it really hit home.  You know, besides getting fed and being loved (neither one I get nearly enough of *whine*), I think I’m the luckiest dog alive because I have so many friends.  Never in my life did I ever think so many people would care about me and want to meet me.  And oh how I love meeting them!  Let me tell you, everyone else in the house, including Mom and Dad, is pretty jealous. 

But it’s true.  I found a quote on the innerwebs the other day and it says, “Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together”.  I think a former president said that, but I’m not sure.  But think about it.  What would our lives be like without friends?  Even our moms and dads need to be friends. 

Us dogs like the concept of friends.  We are in a pack aren’t we?  And when we get kicked out of a pack, or in the case of being left at home alone, abandoned from the pack, we become very sad and very lonely.  And sometimes, very upset.  No, man and dog cannot live well in isolation.  It’s the give and take of friendship that makes life so good.

And making new friends, like adding members to the pack, is really good.  It’s so fun to meet other people and other dogs, tell stories, share concerns, (I ain’t sharin’ food though), enjoy each other’s company, and know that they’ll be there if you really need them.  And it’s no different than our pack.  If I want to be alone, pack members recognize that. They keep their distance but occasionally check in.   However, if I want company, the whole pack is ready to run and play. 

There is something really cool about that song.  Listen again….”one is silver and the other gold”.  Having lots of silver and gold may make you rich, but in the case of this song, richness has nothing to do with money.  It has everything to do with having friends and being loved and having people care for you.  A wealthy man without a friend is the poorest man on earth.  The richest people are those that have lots of friends and lots of love.  Boy, I must be a gazillionaire then, huh?  That’s one of the reasons us dogs are so special.  We like making friends and we love being friends.  And we’re pretty good at it. 

Have you thought of your friends today?  How special they are to you?  One of mom’s friends has a Facebook thing going on where he lists one friend a day and posts why they are so special to him.  That’s really neat.  However, being a friend doesn’t mean expecting thanks in return.  (Well unless you’re one of our cats and then you BETTER thank her for being nice or she’ll rip your face off!).  No, being a friend means knowing you’re appreciated and not having to hear it. Being a friend means telling the other person how much you care without ever expecting it in return.  Being a friend means being there in person or in spirit.  I love being a friend to you.  I am a better dog, however, for all the friendship I have received from you!

Today I want to thank my friends.  I WANT you to know how much you mean to me.  I want you all to know that I know you care and it makes me so very happy.  I haven’t met all of my friends, yet, but I want to.  And when I do, you’ll know right then how much I like you. 

Thanks for reading my blog today.  I hope you were Bearmused today!

Foster Failure

Hi.  It’s been a while since I’ve blogged.  Not that there wasn’t much to talk about.  Oh, there’s ALWAYS something to talk about.  Rather I’ve been so busy on ‘ventures and the holidays and being a “big brother” that I just haven’t taken the time to compose my thoughts.  However, today I’m posting because now there seems to be a lot to talk about.  I am going to beg for forgiveness that my first blog back isn’t terribly lighthearted.  But it’s something that Mom and I need to discuss.  Mom and I were up all night—for different reasons—but we agreed we need to put this out there.

I think you all know that we foster.  I’m not too happy about it but I love my Mom and I am willing to help.  There is a term in the vernacular of us foster families.  It’s called Foster Failure.  It’s sort of a tongue in cheek expression for falling in love with the dog that you are fostering and not letting it back out of your house.  Never letting it go to be adopted by that “forever” family.  We laugh about it—actually I am ALWAYS worried mom will be a foster failure.  ‘Specially with “IT”.  *HOWL*  But Mom has done the right thing (not that foster failing is the wrong thing—she can just do it when I’m no longer around!) and after we’ve worked long and hard and suffered helping the new dogs become dogs, she lets them go.  It’s pretty cool, actually. 

However, we had a Foster Failure this past week.  And it wasn’t because we kept a foster forever.  Oh, how we wish we had.  No, sadly our latest foster was placed in what was, by all appearances, a good home, but now she is dead.  Something compelled her to try to escape and she ran away and was instantly (we hope) killed on the street. 

We failed her.  She was not the failure.  The situation was not the failure.  WE failed her.  It’s hard being a foster family.  Many dogs come to us without the love and care that I had.  But as I have always said, us dogs have a tremendous capacity to heal and forgive and us foster families help expedite that “recovery”.  Foster dogs are not as articulate as I am.  They have a hard time telling us what happened.  They are embarrassed, fearful, anxious.  But slowly, over time, and with my help, too, they begin to relax.  And in our house, if you’re a girl and you were homeless, you get to join the Homeless Girls Club.  Have I mentioned that always makes me mad?  I’m a good helper but I don’t get to participate in meetings… Ah, but again I digress.   I struggle with that don’t I?

But between the girls club meetings, and walks, and meeting new people, the basic rules of pack hierarchy, good healthy food, and CONSISTENCY, they learn to trust.  And to have fun.  And, most importantly, to be a dog.  Many people think this is a hard job.  It’s hard for me, because I have as much, if not more, work than Mom.  But I know it makes Mom happy and, well, the more I work, the faster they leave.  In the case of this past foster, it was the Princess Sophie who had most of the work.  She was a pretty good teacher too.  I hate to admit, but I was impressed. 

But back to the failure.  It is when our jobs have been completed, and the foster has become a real dog again, that the true challenge of the situation arises.  At what point does Mom make a decision it’s time to let our foster go.  And more so, to what family?  Most people think it’s hard to let them go.  Sometimes it is.  Sometimes it’s not.  To me, it’s never hard.  Good riddance.  But for Mom it’s harder sometimes than others.  I think it depends on how “damaged” (*GRRRR* I hate that word.  We are not damaged or broken, but you humans love to use that expression.  I prefer to think of it as bad life experiences) the foster was and how much wonderful progress (aka work I have done) it makes.   I also think it’s how much the new foster SUCKS UP to Mom, but again, I digress. 

Actually, for Mom, the hardest thing to do is decide which home and situation would be the best for our foster, and when the time would be right for our foster to make the move to that new home.  It’s always hard for a dog to change homes.  I mean, think about it.  You’ve been terrified.  You’re better.  You love your pack.  And now you’re being thrown into a new pack?  It’s scary.  Some of us are more ready.  Some of us will never be ready.  It’s my Mom’s job to make that decision. 

One of the things Mom has to decide, too, is WHAT kind of home.  Can our foster be in a larger pack?  Either humans or canines.  Or both.  (How many of you know that pack size alters behavior?  Did you know that a confident dog in a small pack can become a terrified subordinate in a large pack?)   Can our foster be in an active home?  Can our foster thrive in a home where there is no exercise?  Can our foster be comfortable with only boys or only girls—humans or dogs?  When is the appropriate time to let go of our foster?  There is a fine line between too soon and too late.  Too soon, the foster might never blossom.  Too late, they have already bonded and the move will be devastating, especially if the foster was fragile to begin with.  Too soon or too late and they have formed new personality traits which might be hard to break, or worse, unacceptable.   

In the case of our last foster, we all thought the time was right.  She blossomed.  She laughed.  She was getting so much more confident.  She had opportunities to meet lots of new people and new dogs.  SHE BECAME A DOG.  We felt that perhaps a family of fewer dogs and more humans would be good.  She loved attention and the “laying on the hands”, but was somewhat aloof when there were TOO many dogs.

 I met the new “Forever” home for our latest foster.  They had a nice dog and some really nice children.  I thought they were ok.  But, *sigh* I like everybody.  We know no other home is like ours.  We know no other parents are like ours.  That’s ok.  It shouldn’t be.  I’ve said this before:  us dogs are malleable.  We adapt.   All we really want is love.  We thought it would work.

It didn’t. 

We failed her.  We missed something.  We knew she needed to be in a smaller canine pack.  We knew she needed lots of loving.  This home seemed to have both.  But, she felt compelled to escape and we’ll never know why.  Was it too soon to give her up?  Was it too late?  Did she really need to have a female dog companion?  Were there too many people in that house?  Were her fears so great that she couldn’t cope?  Was she really that fragile?   And the worst thought?  Was she being treated ok? 

We’ll never know. 

It’s really hard being a foster family.  We know over the long haul we do the best we can.  We have saved lives.  And we hope we have given a better life to these dogs that had no life at all.   All of the foster people out there have saved lives.  If it weren’t for a wonderful foster mom, we wouldn’t have Princess Sophie (well maybe I should rethink that statement).  If it weren’t for another selfless foster mom we wouldn’t have Ditto.  But boy, it’s hard.

My next blog?  Guilt and forgiveness?   I don’t know.  I still want to talk about food y’know.  But, I have to go now.  I have to give my furs back to my mom so she can cry some more.  Boy, I hate that part. 

 I’m not sure you were Bearmused today.  I’m sorry if you weren’t.  But thanks for reading everyone. 

Heart Healthy

There is so much talk all the time about being “heart healthy”.  As mom shoves another chocolate chip cookie in her mouth and then yells at me for taking Sophie’s dinner, I hear it all the time.  I know…I’m on a diet…I’m ALWAYS on a diet.  But I hear things like “good for the heart” and “he’ll feel better if…”   I don’t understand this medical heart healthy thing.  In my world Heart Health means something far different and, more importantly, better.  But before I go on, could someone put another scoop of creamy mashed ‘taters in my bowl please?  Oh sorry… I digress.

What do they mean by Heart Health?  Is it dry kibble only or a raw diet?  Is it exercising every day?  Is it eating less or eating differently?  Is it the miracles of modern medicine (that sadly isn’t a miracle if you think of who they really tested it on…I could have been one of those dogs in a cage, you know.  But again I digress).  No, I submit to you that Heart Health has nothing to do with any of that.  Heart Health is all about happiness.   My heart might beat better or longer if I took a pill or lost 5 pounds.  But will it be happier?  Is a healthy heart a happy heart?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But I maintain that a HAPPY heart is always a healthy heart. 

What makes my heart happy?  Well, eating does, but you know that by now.  My friends make my heart healthy.   The people I have met and their dogs I get to play with.  The toys I get to chew on and the smiles my mom gives me.  The love that surrounds me and the love I get to give back.  I never knew being “popular” could be so much fun (mom says she was never in the “popular” crowd, so she’s living ‘vicariously’ through me…whatever that means!).

What else makes a heart happy?  Simple pleasures.  Curling up with mom and dad and watching a movie while she pets my furs.  Snoozing in front of the fireplace on a blustery day after a long walk in the snowy woods.  Chasing a wave and trying to catch it.  Taking a nap in the sun on the grass on a warm spring day.  That’s what makes a heart happy.

How about laughter?  A psychologist said, "We don't laugh because we're happy -we're happy because we laugh."  And so are our hearts.  Us dogs can laugh you know.  We do it in different ways.  Most of us wag our tails but in my family we don’t have tails.  We smile wide.  We howl.  We bark happy barks.  We can laugh and do so often when we’re excited or having fun.  Isn’t laughter one of nature’s best medicines?  Well then how can that not be heart healthy?

A happy heart is a heart having fun.  If it’s not fun why do it?  It’s fun to chase rabbits.  It’s fun to catch a Frisbee.  It’s fun wrestling with each other.  It is fun going for rides and meeting new people.  It can even be fun to see the doctor?  Think about it in the right way.  We’re locked in a room with someone who will pay attention to ONLY us.  How can that NOT be fun?

These are all the “medicines” that make my heart healthy.  Of course each and every one qualifies for a blog topic in and of itself: friends, family, fun, simple pleasures, food.   Especially food!  (*HOWL*).   My heart is big and it’s happy.  I will always have heart health.  And your dog will too.  You should join him or her someday.  

How’s your heart?  What makes your heart happy and healthy?  Please tell me.  Maybe it’s something I haven’t thought of!  And, thanks for reading everybody.  Hope you were ‘Bearmused’ today!

“Who Loves Me Will Love My Dog”

Mom and I have a lot of time to chat while we’re cruising in the Dogmobile.  On one of our trips we got to talking about how similar she and I are, in terms of the characteristics we share.  And we started comparing all the dogs that have passed through our house and how funny it was that each dog reflected one or two of mom’s personality traits.  How often have you heard the expression “people start to look like their dogs”?  Or, “dogs and their owners end up looking alike”?  Sometimes it’s really true.  You have all seen the professional photography demonstrating that effect.  Well, I want to take this concept just a tad farther.  I want to propose that we dogs tend to reflect our owner’s personalities.  Or maybe, it’s vice versa.   Are you smiling yet?  If you know my mom, I’ll bet you’re laughing already. 

Let me illustrate.  Take me, for instance.  If you’ve met me, you know I’m not a petite guy.   I’m big.  I have curly hair.  I love to eat.  And I love to talk.  And not necessarily in that order.  I’m not sure what I love more—talking or food!  You’ve seen pictures; you’ve heard stories.  So…anybody know my mom?  Ever see her miss a meal?  With the exception of the curly hair (well, she used to pay big cash money for curls), you can really tell we’re related.  She’s pretty chatty.  And sometimes I hear her use an expression describing herself like a brick building and a potty!?  I don’t get it but maybe you will. 

Then there was Dakota.  Dakota was an absolute sweet, loving dog.  But don’t cross him.  And don’t come after his mom.  He’d literally and figuratively rip your face off.  Uh huh, you guessed it.  Don’t cross momma either, especially before she’s had her 2 cups of coffee.  And whatever you do, don’t do anything to her family!   Dakota had a long “fuse” but when it blew—watch out.  Mom?  Well put it this way…I wouldn’t go takin’ mom’s treats away from her!

Then there’s Ditto.  Ditto is often aloof.  A friendly guy who loves to greet strangers and talk to them, in the long run he’d just as soon go outside and oversee his “land”.  He likes it when he can be outside, undisturbed, and surveying his surroundings.  Away from the pack.  And you know?  Mom’s not too far from that, too.  She loves to visit and see people and be social, but in the end, she’d just as soon sit on the deck, look over “her land” and contemplate the world.  Kind of funny, huh? 

Now, here’s where my thesis goes a bit awry.  Sophie.  Princess Sophie.  I’m not seeing much resemblance between the two.  I’m not quite sure I’d call my mom a princess. Mom doesn’t care about her nails.  And she sure doesn’t mind getting rained on.  Yet, y’know, Sophie’s kind of bossy.  It’s “her way or the highway.”  Sigh.   And, shhh, don’t tell, but I think my mom is a little similar.  She can be pretty bossy when it comes to following what she says.  So, I guess they share some idiosyncrasy don’t they?  Dad calls them, “pushy females”.    *HOWL*

Is it all that bad that we’re similar?  I don’t think so.  I think mom would like to be more like me – forgiving, unconditional, happy all the time-- although since we’re both on a diet I’m not sure she wants to be like me in every way!  And there are times I’d like to be more like her—at least on the physical side—be able to have opposing thumbs, talk—real talk—and live longer than 15.  But I’m happy we’re a family and we can share our quirks and relish in them.  To me?  They’re virtues. 

So what characteristics do you share with your beloved pup?  Please share.  And…thanks for reading everyone.  I hope you were “Bearmused” today!

Euphemisms

Going on a diet. We’ll see. Maybe. Skibs. Slurpy. In a minute. Beauty parlor. OK. “O-U-T”. Last trips. Foster sister/brother. TR’s.

Do you know what any of those mean?  I’m sure “Going on a Diet” is familiar to 99.99% of you. Sadly, it’s now familiar to me. *Whine* And you might think you know what “Beauty Parlor” is or “We’ll See”. But y’know what they are in my house? Euphemisms. That’s right. Do you know what a euphemism is? Here’s what the dictionary says:

A substitution of an agreeable or less offensive expression for one that may offend or suggest something unpleasant to the listener; or in the case of doublespeak, to make it less troublesome for the speaker.

Uh huh. Less offensive. Right. Well, in some cases, that might be the case and in some cases it’s not really an issue. But, thanks to one of my loyal Facebook friends who pointed this out, the euphemism is absolutely a substitution for a less pleasant word. Frequently, the euphemism is used in lieu of? Anybody?  Bueller?   The word we all hate: NO. N-O. I just don’t like that word. For so many reasons. But…I digress (bad habit, I no..I mean, know).

So today we’re gonna talk about the euphemisms used in MY house. Some are funny. Some are supposed to be a trick so that we (my siblings and I) can’t understand—right mom. But I’ll share with you some of our euphemisms and hope that you appreciate my world a little better. Mom didn’t know I had so many of these figured out, but I do! So we’ll start with the worst one of all to me:  “GOING ON A DIET”.

Because, that means I starve. That means mom doesn’t feed me enough. My belly is empty. I have to forage for scraps out on our walks. I have to force myself to eat Sophie’s dinner. Yeah, I’m not a fan of “GOING ON A DIET”. I think those of you who read my Facebook posting figured that out already. Mom and my doctor say I have to shed a few pounds. Well, gee, I only thought I had to shed furs. But no….I have to “cut back”. *HOWL*. That’s just downright hurtful. I think you know what I mean. So “Going on a diet” means starvation at my house!

Which, of course, leads me to Skibs. And Slurpy. Skibs is another word for food. Weird, huh? Yeah, this is a mom-ism. I am told that it came from when she had her true love, Beasley. Seems initially Beas ate Kibbles and Bits. (Ew, Mom…thankfully she learned). From Kibbles and Bits it went to Kibbles. From Kibbles to Skibbles. From Skibbles to Skibs. Yup, we are asked two times a day, “are you ready for skibs”? Duh, mom. Wanna take a gander at what “slurpy” is? Yup, it’s water. Seems this same dog used to be kind of sloppy; rather, he slurped, in a rhythm of three’s, his water. Slurp slurp slurp. Mom, from there, somehow and some way, switched water to “slurpy”. Now those are two euphemisms that aren’t painful. Just a tad weird, but so is mom.

Another painful euphemism? “Going to the beauty parlor”. Now most of you girly girls out there like doing that. I guess you call it a “spa”. Well, in my land, it is….THE GROOMER. Now our groomer is very nice, but I am not thrilled to be there. I don’t like getting brushed. I don’t like getting bathed. And while, in the end it feels good, I really don’t like getting shorn like a sheep. So when I hear “beauty parlor”, I run.

Two less than pleasant euphemisms are “maybe” and “in a minute”. Mom thinks it will assuage us. Pacify us. Ditto gets it a lot. Here’s how it goes: “Mom, I gotta go out” is followed by “in a minute Ditto”. Then guess what? She doesn’t let us out. Repeat. Guess what? Ditto has to yell, then she gets mad, and we finally go out. Y’think after all these years she’d know we really have to go out. Shuh.

Our Facebook friend gets “maybe”. In other words, back to the second worst word in the world, “NO”. We don’t get “maybe” very often, but we know what it means when she says it. However, it's one of Dad’s favorite euphemisms. Maybe and "we’ll see". Most of you practiced parents out there know what I mean. Both of those terms mean forget about it. *sigh*

Ooh, “TR’s.” TR’s are mom’s attempt to spell words instead of using them. But she forgets how smart we are. TR’s are treats. An oxymoron to “diet”, TR’s are great. Often provided after “Last Trips”, which is the word for “we better go potty now because it’s bedtime and you’re gonna have to hold it.” This is usually associated with “O-U-T”, another attempt by mom to spell, thinking she’s tricked us. But where she slips up is when she puts “OK” with anything. ‘Cuz when we hear the inflection in her voice as she says OK, then we know it’s time to MOVE and usually to the o-u-t doors. Silly mom.

Foster sister/brother is simply a smokescreen. It’s a euphemism for “great, mom now has one more dog to pet and dote on, and less time and less hands for me”. We all know it. And she thinks we’re ok with that! *big sigh*.

I could go on and on. Mom’s got all these trick words. However,  we’re pretty smart in our house and we’ve got her figgered out. But that’s ok. We love her as much as always and we know that she’s just trying not to hurt our feelings or make it more fun for all of us. I just wish she’d lose the “diet” one….

Do you have any euphemisms in your house? If you do, please share with us.. And thanks for reading everybody. I hope you were “Bearmused” today!