A "Tiny" Walk

Rebekah, Tiny, and I ended a very full, very challenging, time-crunched, project-filled, three-day weekend with a nice long walk.

Here are some of the highlights for you to enjoy this morning.

Have a most blessed day - and remember to seek to out the blessings. They are there.

Denise Versus The Cabinet Door

So my month of "horror" began on January 27 with this upper cabinet/pantry door.

It looks like a regular door, doesn't it?

And it is a regular door. Because you know the old saying, "Doors don't do stupid things. People do stupid things."

Keep that saying in mind as we scroll along.

Now here is a photo of that upper cabinet/pantry door in context. 

Forgive the food sitting on the counter, waiting to be put away. We're coming out of two weeks of sickness at our home, and we definitely set our priorities (cleaning and organizing fell off the list).

Now just beyond that "window" over the kitchen sink (near the paper towel roll) is technically a dining room. But we use it for our coffee bar area. 

Tiny likes to sit under the coffee bar (my grandmother's dresser repurposed). He also likes to eat near the coffee bar.

I suppose "likes to eat" is a bit of an exaggeration. Tiny does not (overall) like to eat, unless we're talking treats or grapes.

So mealtimes with Mr. Tiny are elaborate affairs, where someone needs to sit near him and coax him to eat. He loves food once he gets going. So that's not the problem.

We suspect Tiny, as the runt of his litter in a breeder home, also landed on the empty bowl side of mealtime, since he seems to be "saving" the food instead of eating it.

He also has some digestive issues, with all tests negative for all sorts of gastrointestional health things along with allergies.

Anyway, we have a trainer Tiny likes and a veterinarian we like sorting that mess out. That's just a little background for the fun to come.

So during this particular time in January, we were trying a special canned food for Tiny that he did seem to like and eat on his own.

The problem is that one could only put a bit in his bowl at the time. If one gave Tiny too much, he wouldn't eat it. If one dawdled too long in refilling the bowl, he walked away and wouldn't eat it.

Also, this particular food is quite sticky. One can't simply set a giant blob in Tiny's bowl for him to figure out (he doesn't). The blob needs to to be fork cut (or spoon or knife cut) into manageable chunks and then slid into his bowl before he quites finishes the previous blobby chunks.

So timing - and great speed - are key here.

Now for a little more background.

Faith was having her own challenging January. Although her blood tests were normal, she was eating and drinking more (a lot more) to keep up with her fluid and calories requirements (and failing).

Oh, and appliances were breaking in the house at record speed. This resulted in everyone running on fumes and reduced sleep just to responsibly address all the challenges (PS: All but one appliance is till not fixed).

So back to January 27.

Rebekah and I had just returned from a WriteOn Joliet meeting, and Daniel (who was busy with something in that moment) asked me to feed Tiny.

So before I even went upstairs to check on Faith, I took care of my tiny little adorable Pembroke Welsh Corgi. 

Remember that spot on the counter where the food and acorn squash are sitting? That space was bare, and I was using that space to cut up food for Tiny and rushing it around the corner before he ate the previous serving.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, at - oh, I estimate twenty miles per hour.

On the final trip, my face smashed into the open cabinet door, just like in a Saturday morning cartoon.

I thought I'd broken my face. My glasses were twisted. I'm thinking concussion, retinal detachment etc. as I raced to the freezer for ice.

Rebekah, who was equally tired and even more dehydrated than Faith, had blearily gone into the cabinet for powdered electrolyte solution, which she set on the island to mix. She was going to close the door after she mixed the drink and put the solution away.

She never thought I would not see a cabinet door of that size open to its full width.

But I was in "Tiny Zoomy mode" and running on autopilot and paying attention to absolutely nothing else.

Daniel finished feeding Tiny while I iced my face.

Timothy reformed my glasses (my only pair, and I'm blind without them) while I iced my face.

Rebekeh checked on Faith and gave Faith her night meds while I iced my face.

Was it a God thing? My swiftness in grabbing ice?

Whatever the reason, I escaped the whole incident relatively unscathed.

No swelling.

No bruising.

Just slight tenderness above my left eyebrow to my hairline.

But before we embarked on a really rough February...

...Tiny meekly (more or less, mostly less) finished his food and brought me a toy, ready to play.

Tiny and the Grape

So it's been a week.

The southward turn came Tuesday when I realized we hadn't received our tax packets from our accountant, which includes our meeting date. So I did the reasonable thing.

I called. On Tuesday, Jan. 27.

And am I glad we did!

We usually meet with our accountant the first Saturday of February. We've been in that rotation for years, and we don't jump out of it. One year, I was in the hospital or the ER or something, and I sent an adult child by proxy, if only to keep our place in line.

So when I called, the person at the other end of the line explained the many tax-related changes this year, which took longer to get the packets out. 

Then I asked for my appointment date and time, assuming she would tell me February 7.

No, the appointment is January 31.

Saturday.

This Saturday. In less than four days at the time of the call.

While I was already committed to the author fair at Critical Grind.

"Is that a problem?" she asked.

And then she very nicely moved the appointment to later in the afternoon to eliminate the conflict.

And then Rebekah and I have spent every night until very late at night (because we still don't have those tax packets yet), getting ready for our meeting with the accountant.

That brings us to last night's adventure.

It's already been a stressful week, and everyone was at sixes and sevens with each other when "it" occurred.

Rebekah was standing in front of the refrigerator moving grapes from the bag to the bowl to head back upstairs to her computer when a single grape hit the floor.

"You dropped a grape," I told her.

We both looked. Only a stem.

DAMN IT!

I ran into the living room  where Tiny (who wasn't even in the kitchen when Rebekah opened the refrigerator), was polishing off the last of the grape.

Now anyone who's owned a dog knows grapes are highly toxic to dogs - and there's no antidote to the toxin.

Treatment is usually a combination of inducing vomiting, maybe using charcoal, IV fluids to keep the kidneys flushed (necessitating a 48 to 72-hour hospital stay), bloodwork to monitor kidney fuction, and hope for the best.

Rebekah called the ER to let them know Tiny was on his way.

Timothy and Daniel - both of whom had late nights at work last night - took Tiny to the ER so Rebekah and I could do taxes. The ER staff took Tiny back immediately.

Tiny is one really, really, really lucky Pembroke Welsh Corgi.

Because we moved Tiny to the ER (almost) as quickly as Tiny snatched the grape from the kitchen floor, the vomiting brought up the entire grape, along with Tiny's only meal of the day because he refused all food and water that day until Daniel came home.

Yes, Tiny has a complicated relationship with food. But that's a whole other story.

Although I did keep fuming all night on how Tiny wouldn't eat his very nice (and expensive) kibble, but couldn't wait to devour a poisonous grape.

The veterinarian said no further treatment was needed because the grape hadn't yet left Tiny's stomach.

They did baseline bloodwork, finished the night off with a shot of Cerenia so Tiny wouldn't keep throwing up, and sent him home - in his crate, not a small box of ashes.

Tiny ate up his kibble last night with Daniel sitting beside him.

And then he settled in for a forty-five minute cuddle session with me, even though the next day was approaching, and I still had to take care of Faith.

We still don't have the tax packets.

But we should be ready for the accountant on Saturday, although we will need two more long nights after work in preparation.

But all's well that ends well.

Because we still have a corgi named Tiny.

Birthday Blanket from Cindy

Cindy, who makes the crocheted Ribbit-Tibbits (i.e. Bertrand's friends) and adoptable mice, crocheted her first blanket for my birthday - and then presented it to me on Justin's birthday a couple of weeks ago.

I wanted to showcase a nice photo of me using it. Instead, I'm hanging out on the couch with it in the early evening yesterday with a wiggly Tiny, while Rebekah worked overtime, and both of us (Rebekah and I) dealt with food poisoning. 

But Cindy did a great job with the lap blanket. The colors and the pattern remind me of a blanket my mother had on her bed when I was a child. I will treasure it for many years.

The recap of Bertrand's Back-To-School Birthday Bash will have to wait until Monday. 

Why We Almost Kept Our Christmas Tree Up Until May 6

The short answer is because we had hoped to celebrate Christmas with Sarah when she came out to the area for Timothy and Daniel's graduation (master's degree) from the University of St. Francis in Joliet the first weekend of May.

The long answer is more complicated.

As I've previously written, our family has journeyed through a couple of very challenging years - and 2025 (as Timothy said) arrived like a wrecking ball.

Still, we were foolishly hopeful 2025 might be a big gentler on us.

Now we could not have known that in December 2024.

But by December 2024, the boys were finishing up master degree classes, Rebekah was hearing rumors of job layoffs, and I was moving from health issue to health issue.

All of this dumped our holiday spirit on the chopping block.

Timothy had put his tree up early so Midnight could enjoy it for her last few days.

Rebekah, who normally loves decorating for Christmas, couldn't muster up the desire for it.

So I put up the tree, starting December 26, my first day of the last few vacation days I still needed to take for 2024.

And I also got sick with whatever respiratory virus was buzzing around at that time.

In a haze of unwellness, and interspersed with playing and napping with Tiny, I put that tree up, the first time I had decorated a tree in years because my work and life schedule gobbled up the time for it.

It took three days that felt like three years. But the tree went up.

I was still sick by New Year's Eve, when I finally put my little tree up in my room.

I was still sick by our family Christmas on January 7, although the virus was on its way out the door.

And I was disappointed at losing the full enjoyment of the Christmas beauty in my house after a blur of months laced with disappointment.

So we made plans to leave Christmas intact, so we could enjoy it with Sarah on her birthday weekend - and she was excited about that, since we haven't spent Christmas together in years.

And then Sarah learned her son's senior prom is that weekend, so she won't be coming out after all.

And then we got hit with a string of more emergencies until we realized all the trees and all the Christmas decor still needed packing up.

So Rebekah and I did that on Friday night.

For as much as we'd like to finally enjoy Christmas, Christmas has moved on.

But memory is a funny thing.

We took few Christmas photos this year because the holiday season was so hard we forgot to take photos.

But I did snap this photo once I finally got the tree done and my mother's old nativity scene in place on top of one of the bookcases, along with puppy Tiny (who's gotten so big since then), all tuckered out.

The scene looks lovely, peaceful, serene, homey.

Looking at this photo, I realized I was completely wrong about missing Christmas.

Christmas had arrived just the same, even if no one felt the full enjoyment of it.

For the spirit of Christmas is true, even if we are not perceiving it.

Some things just ARE and are not based on our perception.

Christmas, for many people, symbolizes love, joy, peace, and - most importantly - hope for a weary, weary world.

May the true spirit of Christmas rest in our hearts today - and may we share that same spirit with all we meet as we venture forth into a new week.

Happy Monday!