Three Years Old!!!

Happy Birthday, Winnie Mae.

Hare Today Order!

Yipee!

I love it when Mom buys me yummy things from Hare Today!

First of all, I'm sorry for not writing in a while. I've been busy with my new sisfur, Pearl Irene! We've had a lot of fun together, but sometimes she drives me nuts.

But back to the FOOD, FOOD, FOOD!!!!

Mom bought pig ears, whole sardines, a guinea pig, eight adult quail, quail feet, duck necks, mice (for my kitty sisfur, Verlaine), rabbit heads, and rabbit organs.

Here's Mom now, taking over the typing, to tell you about each of the things:

Well, it's true, Winnie and Pearl are going NUTS over the new stuff!

Here's a rundown.

Pig Ears: Haven't opened the bag yet, but my first impression is . . . BUY AGAIN! Just under $1/ear, they're pretty good sized. I'm excited to try these out.

Whole Sardines: MUCH bigger than I expected! I was thinking three-four inches, but no--these are at least six! I'm very excited to try them though, and providing the girls like them, I will be purchasing them again. They do smell, however.

Guinea Pig: So C-U-T-E! I'm really looking forward to feeding this. Seven dollars a pig means I won't be feeding it very often, but it's adds nice variety.

Adult Quail: These are bigger than I expected! Definitely purchasing these again; they're cheaper than they are at the Asian markets!

Quail Feet: The girls LOVE these. They are REALLY, REALLY small though. I'm not going to buy them again, because they're just too expensive. I chose quail feet over chicken feet, because Winnie is allergic to chicken; however, it is a light allergy, and the chicken is so much cheaper, I will be buying that instead next time.

Duck Necks: Will feed these tonight. I'll update the journal and let y'all know how it goes. But first impression? I like it.

Adult Mice: Again, these are for the cat. My aunt is paying for them, but maybe, just maybe, she'll let me try one! They're pretty small, but just about perfectly sized for one meal for Pearl, Winnie, or Verlaine. If they're on sale again the next time I order, I might grab a package.

Rabbit Hears: Bigger than I expected. But how can you go wrong? Ten heads for seven bucks, providing a unique organ (brain) and some tasty rabbit.

Rabbit Organs: Again, how can you go wrong? BOL! I'm glad I got these! Pearl won't be getting any (oh, boo hoo) because she isn't allergic to the cheaper organ sources like Winnie is.

Overall, the only thing I regretted at all was the quail feet, and I'm not horribly depressed over it or anything. And I'm really excited about all the whole prey, which is freaking my parents out! :))

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae

Sleepovers!

Oh my gracious!

Mommy had a sleepover last night with her sister and five of her friends. They sat down at the piano and played music and sang for THREE HOURS (including a medley of Les Miserables, some Kanon of Praise, Pachabel's Kanon, Wir Eilen, Pie Jesu, Blue Skies, Poor Man Lazarus, and many, many, many hymns!) All of the humans had a hard time talking after that--they had been singing for too long!

THEN they played some games, laughed a LOT, and screamed once when one of the girls scared the others. Finally, they watched "How to Train Your Dragon" and went to bed at one o'clock.

In the morning, they played Wii, sang some more, and took me for a WALK!!! That was the only good part about the sleepover. Well, that, and sleeping on the couch :-O

Now everyone is tired. My Mom actually took a nap! I am napping too--it feels good.

Walkies!

Mommy took me on a walk today, and guess who came?!?!? Mom's DADDY!!!!! He never comes on walks, and I love him soooooo much, I was very happy to have him with me.

On a sad note, after I killed that bunny behind the bushes yesterday, my poop came out, and it HURT!!! I cried because it hurt so much. I guess I'd better be careful how much fresh bunny rabbit I eat next time :-O But I'm okay now, and I'm ready to kill more RABBITS!!!!!!!!

Mom is thinking about taking a private class with a VERY nice lady that I like VERY much. She owns a house with lots and lots of tasty treats lined up on the walls, and lots of people bring their dogs and give the nice lady money for the tasty treats, and comfy collars, and fun toys! It's the best house EVER!!! I would love it if Mommy brought me there more often, especially since she always brings some new treats home.

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae

RABBIT!!!

Life has been busy. But we have snow! Snow! Snow! Snow!

Mommy is thawing some rabbit for me on the counter. Oh goody! Oh boy! Rabbit is my favorite.

The strange hissing thing-that-is-not-a-dog is now starting to like me. We play together now. They call her "Verlaine", and they make a big fuss over her when she pretends that I hurt her feelings. Bah humbug, I was only playing!

Anyway, rumor has it, the thing-that-is-not-a-dog will soon be eating real food (that is, raw stuff like turkey and rabbits) soon. Oh my goodness, she's going to share my lovely real food?!?!?! No fair! Ah well, life goes on.

I miss my Newfoundland friends in upstate NY. I really do! I want to go play with them, but Mommy says it's too far to drive right now.

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae

Christmas Short Story (My Mommy wrote this)

Preface--a "node of ranvier" is a component of the human nervous system. All the students in my Anatomy class thought someone should write a story about a "node of ranvier", because it sounded like some sort of Duke. So . . . here it is! I know it's kinda sappy, and predictable, but the majority of the plot line was written in an hour and a half :D

The Node of Ranvier
Frost laced the windows of the Node of Ranvier’s estate. A typical young Englishman of the Node’s age would have candles lit in the windows, and perhaps a few wreaths of holly that his wife had hung. Usually, a pleasant December evening such as this would have an Englishman’s children out in the frosty air, giving their nursemaids a fright, running amongst the newly fallen snow.
But at the Node of Ranvier’s estate, no candles cheered up the wintry air. No wreaths were hung from the windows, and no children frolicked in the yard.
The Node himself could be seen, strolling down the frozen walkways of his extensive winter gardens. He rounded the corner, and strolled through one of the wrought iron gates.
***
December 18th. All the newspapers were in a tizzy. The Node of Ranvier had disappeared. Kidnapped, or worse, and off his own estate. His servants went through the house in a daze, wondering what would become of the beautiful gardens, the expansive rooms, them. Scotland Yard reeled with excitement while the rest of the Queen’s realm feared the consequences of his loss. Who would take the late Sir Turner’s place? Sir Edward Turner, may he presumably rest in peace, had never married. He was the last of a long line of English military men, gone without son or daughter, niece or nephew, to take his position.
Inspector Robbs was sent to investigate the scene of the disappearance. So as the early December snow fell softly round the Node’s Estate, Robbs and his assistants catalogued every possible clue. The single set of footprints leading out of the Node’s gardens. A red scarf, the Node’s favorite, half-frozen into the pond. The best of England’s bloodhounds were brought out to track the Node, but no scent was ever found. The case was dismissed as, “Willful Disappearance”, as not enough evidence could be assembled to fling upon it the title, “Suicide”.
Three days after the disappearance, an heir came forth from the depths of America. Eight-year-old Charles Turner was said to be a child of the late Node and a young American woman.
Young Charles Turner was presented by his grandmother, a certain Barbara Beasley by name. She claimed that the late Node and her daughter, Jeanette, had been wed against her late husband’s wishes in New York City. Jeanette became pregnant just before the late Node abandoned her to return to his home in England, and then Jeanette disappeared on the child’s first birthday, never to be heard from again.
Inspector Robbs had his doubts, as did all the servants, and the press, but young Charles was sworn in as the Node of Ranvier. Mrs. Beasley was to serve as his regent until he came of age.
***
Her mind wandered back to the day that she had met him He was so full of English charm. She had been so young, so innocent.
They had been wed. She knew her parents disapproved, but she hadn’t been able to resist the man. He left her, one night. Like a trick, he disappeared. She asked the wharf master the next day if he had left the port. He had sailed away to England on the HSS Bingley.
And then the threats. Blackmail. She was told that her baby, that little lovely child, would be taken from her if she did not comply with the instructions. She left, on her baby’s first birthday. They told her to sail down to Argentina, and to stay there for seven years.
Those seven years ended the same day that the Node of Ranvier disappeared.
***
“Is this as fast as the carriage can go? Make it go faster. I must be there by ten!” He rolled his eyes at her requests, and then opened the carriage hatch to berate the driver. He then turned to admire his traveling companion.
She was tall for a woman, with brilliant, Irish-red hair. Her cheekbones were high, her lips rosy, and her eyes greener than pastures in springtime. She could have been a lady of high society, but she had been raised amongst less-than-honorable people, and her eyes held hard, dark secrets. She had become roughened by such a culture, and so never became the flourishing lady she could have been.
As the carriage sped on through the moor, the woman prepared herself for what she would find. No candles in the window, she was certain. No wreaths hung on the doors: he had always been such a scrooge. No Christmas tree, and of course, no children in the courtyard.
The carriage came to a rough stop at the Node’s estate, and the lady quitted it. Her traveling companion did as well. They turned toward the estate, which stuck out in the middle of the moor like the last cupcake in a plain white Christmas box, and as they did, a horror spread over the both of them. This was not, could not, be the right estate. Cheery lights brightened the windows. Holly wreathes laced with red and green hung from the doors. A sparkling tree stood stately, refined, in the den. And a child frolicked in the courtyard; his harried nursemaids galavanting after him.
“What can this mean?” questioned the woman of the empty air.
“The Node of Ranvier has disappeared,” replied a young maid through the gate, “And has left his alleged child, from his rumored unity with a young American by the name of Jeanette Beasley, to take over his estate.”
“Thank you,” rejoined the woman, glaring down her nose condescendingly. She then slipped around the back of the estate, her partner following, and let herself in through an iron gate.
***
Progress was a wondrous thing. It was merely six days after the Node’s disappearance, December 24th, and Jeanette Beasley was already in London.
“Where to, Madam?” She whirled, lost in between a dream and reality. Finally catching herself, she replied,
“Westshire, if you will.” to the cabby. The drive to the estate filled her with anxiety. She read over and over again the letter he had sent to her, dated the 16th--two days before his disappearance. It ran:
December 16th
Westshire, England
My dearest Jeanette,
Be assured that I never did leave you. My heart has followed you all these years. Life is not worth living without you.
Were you blackmailed as I was, threatened, torn away against your will? It is no
matter. I long to see you again.
Forty-eight hence, gone I will be,
Hear of the news, sail to see,
Twenty-four south at evergreen,
Twelve east, to the pond careen,
Six down, three up, come home to me.
Yours always,
Edward
Roughly, jerkily, the carriage pulled up to the miniscule Town Hall that was Westshire. The Node’s estate lay just two miles from here. She set out, by foot, in the frigid air, each step bringing her closer to her love. “Forty-eight”. It was forty-eight hours after the letter was sent that Sir Edward disappeared. “Twenty-four south”. She took twenty-four steps southward past the evergreen that lay just on the outskirts of his property. “Twelve east”. A prompt turn east, and then twelve steps toward the pond.
But “six down”? What could that mean? Her eyes wandered about her, until she spied a rabbit hole in the snow. Down on her hands and knees she went, until she came across the end of the tunnel. A wooden door. She tried it. Locked. She pulled out the locket that he had given her on their wedding night, opened it, and pulled out a key so small, that she could barely turn it in the keyhole. But it worked. The door swung open ever so slowly. Stairs. Six of them. “Six down”. Another dead end. Frustrated, she turned to make her way back up the stairs; perhaps the “three up” referred to a back-tracking maneuver. But with a creak, the door at the top of the stairs swung shut.
For a moment she couldn’t see. Not even enough to make her way up the three stairs. But then a soft glow came from behind her; three newfangled “candles”, the kind that burn without any matches. Below these three orbs, three knobs stuck out from the wall. “Three up”. She thrust each of the knobs upwards, one at a time. A passage door slid open behind her.
***
He struggled against the bonds. His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. How had they found his hiding place? What if Jeanette didn’t get his message, or what if she did, but couldn’t follow the clues? And did he really want her to come?
“Settle down, Node,” came a cold, hard voice. “There’s no hurry,” he chuckled with sinister delight. “You have no where to go, do you?”
The Irishwoman came around the corner, laughing gaily.
***
She made her way along the chilled earthen walls of the passageway. She tripped, and almost fell, over some kind of . . . cold metal?
It was a handgun. She picked it up, and advanced along the passageway.
***
“Edward, darling!”
“Forget it, Dahlia. I never loved you.”
“Oh, Edward!” she laughed. Her red hair, her high cheekbones, her archane eyes. She was behind all this: she and her sniveling counterpart.
“You still think you’re in love with this, Jeanette person, don’t you?” Her pretty mouth turned itself into a sneer. What was once beautiful like a rare flower had become tainted like a stream filled with toxic waste.
“Hold it right there!” Jeanette came around the corner, one arm behind her back. “That is my husband.”
“Competition, competition,” snickered Dahlia. The other man began to draw his gun. But his hand found no weapon by his hip; instead, Jeanette drew his gun from behind her back, raised it, and held it steadily at the pair.
“This is hardly a mere competition.” Ice filled her voice. She was tired: tired of being blackmailed to stay away from her husband, tired of masked identities governing her life. “I suggest you leave the country, before every police officer in England is alerted of your presence.”
“You don’t understand, American.”
“No, you don’t understand, woman. This is my husband. Get. Out. Now.” she shuffled the gun in her hands.
“But my brother!” wailed the poor, miserable wretch of a woman. “All our hopes, dashed to the ground! My brother, my poor, poor baby brother!” Sobs burst forth as she sank to the ground. The man behind her coolly filled in the gaps.
“Our younger brother is sunk deep in his gambling debts.”
“How deep?” queried Edward, the young Node.
“Deep, very deep,” whispered the man as he cut the Node’s bonds.
“How deep is deep?”
“One million pounds.” The Node’s eyebrows shot up, and he whistled in appreciation,
“That’s jolly well deep!” He glanced toward his wife tenderly, and she returned his gaze. The two basked in each other’s presence for a moment, and then, pulling a paper and pen from his pocket, he added, “Here. A check--enough to cover his debts.”
“Thank you--thank you!” whimpered the woman, as her companion led her away. The Node turned toward his wife, and they embraced.
***
Frost laced the windows of the Node of Ranvier’s estate. A typical young Englishman of the Node’s age would be gathering in the parlor with his children and his wife, setting out a few biscuits for Saint Nicholas. Then, after the children were in bed, his servants, or perhaps even the man and wife themselves, would set gifts underneath the massive, twelve-foot tree.
But at the Node of Ranvier’s estate, no biscuits waited for the esteemed Saint. Instead, Edward, Jeanette, the young Charles, and old Mrs. Beasley stayed up all night long, rejoicing in their newly reunited family, and celebrating their first Christmas together.

*********************************************** *****************************************

Merry Christmas! May your day be filled with joy!

Sale at my Etsy!!!

Hello pups!

At my Etsy store (http://www.etsy.com/shop/HappyDogWags) from now until 12:00 PM Central Time, December 20th, enter the code "SantaPaws" at checkout and receive 15% off!

Order your Christmas gifts for your favorite pups by the 18th (for custom coats) or the 20th (for bandannas) to ensure delivery by Christmas. For those of you in Canada, please allow 2-3 extra days for shipping.

Thanks for looking!

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae

Tomorrow's my Coming Day . . .

Tomorrow will make two years since Mommy got me from that lady who kept sneezing. We also get Turkey the day after, yum! I get a WHOLE NECK!!!! Yum, yum, YUM!!! Can't wait!

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae

A Cat?!?!?!?

What is the CAT for?!?!? My Aunt bought a cat for my Mommy's sister! I got to sniff her, she smelled funny. Mom hopes I can learn to like Verlaine, because my Aunt loves Vera (that's her nickname), and wants me to like her too.

She IS cute, but I'm worried some people might like her better than me! I'll have to think about this . . . she is after all a cat . . .

Diary of the Day!

Woof! I'm Dogster Diary of the Day again!

Momma is on a HUGE sewing spree! Scary, isn't it? She just finished a coat that was supposed to be for me, but it was too small, so she gave it to my Yorkie pal and is making another one :-O Oh the horror! Another one of those bothersome jackets that make everyone squeal at how cute I am.

Momma's uncle and grandmother are visiting! They're lots of fun. Plus, Mom is buying me raw food when my bag of kibble runs out. Raw food! My favorite! If my skin starts healing up, she says, I can stay on it forever!!!

Woofs and Wags,

Winnie Mae