Thursday, June 25, 2009
Charlie the dog blog
So here's the story: After a lifetime of handcopying ancient texts, an elderly monk became abbot of his monastery. Realizing that for centuries his order had been making copies of copies, he decided to examine some of the monastery's original documents. Days later, the other monks found him in the cellar, weeping over a crumbling manuscript and moaning, "It says 'celebrate,' not 'celibate!'"
Ah regret, it will bite you every time if you let it. My regrets of sharing my bone, not going to the dogpark wednesday, or unsuccessful grooming jobs gone wrong. I have many regrets from bad decisions, wrong turns, and unsuccessful ballads. I have to leave the past alone, move forward and not have regrets. Amber read a saying in a great blue book once that says "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it." Sounds easy right? Wrong. Who's sorry now?
The funeral is over, and life is knocking on the door loudly. Amber is working hard trying to hold it all together while many emotions of sadness, joy, regret, relief, and challenge are pounding her path. God has plans for all of us, and it's up to us to listen for the next action rather than focus on the last feeling. Other people in her life are trying to tell her how she is "supposed" to act. Her partner wants more affection, which is next to impossible in the midst of mourning, her daughter needs more attention, which is hard to focus, Jillian dog wants to sleep in my spot, and her landlord wants...well, it's time to work hard and stay out of life results.
Amber is working on clearing up and re-remembering her past. If you think that can't be done, think again. Literally. The past doesn't exist except as a memory, a mental story, and though past events aren't changeable, your stories about them are. She wants a life of no regret, at least not banging her own head about them is a great start. So it's time to put on your best hat, and celebrate what life is giving us.
Charlie the dog blogger
Monday, June 22, 2009
Charlie the dog blog
In the animal kingdom there is a certain order of things. The lion is the king of the jungle, the snakes eat the mice, the alpha dog rules the home. This has been a very interesting day for Amber because sometimes she thinks she is the king of the jungle, when really all she can be in the moment is the lame mouse, running around doing tricks. It's a tough business, this Hollywood Showbiz thing-but once you are around the Lions, it feeds so much of the artistic side. It also reminds Amber of the fact that she isn't in charge of everything, that she isn't running everything, and that the show must always go on, with or without her. I am a dog that wants attention. Everyone does at some point. What do you do when you are a mouse hanging out with alot of lions? Do you roar hoping someone will see that you can be just as ferocious as they are, or do you stay small and out of the way, doing your job like a normal person. Today I am accepting that we all have dreams, we all have the ability to help each other, and we all deserve a chance to shine. If ever I see a mouse, I will ask it to roar, and if it does so, and the roar is fierce and strong, I will let the mouse stand in for the lion. Amber Dawn Lee wants to roar. Never underestimate the power of anyone if they just put their trust in God, do the work, and stay out of the results "others" may see for you. Never let anyone lock away your potential.....
Charlie the dog
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Losing someone you love brings forth so many different feelings, shock, anger, irritability, sadness, and guilt. Amber is feeling all of them this week and it's not as pleasant to be around her as normal. There are times in life when tragedy hits, and it hits hard. I still want to do my routines like playing ball, going on walks, and eating treats for tricks. Amber is not in the mood for any of this and is praying alot to help move past this. She feels she doesn't have time to heal however because she needs to work, and keep on living.
This morning I woke up growling. So many feelings are coming up surrounding Ambers mothers death. Life is an interesting journey, one of love, heartache, growth, spurts and stops. We are powerless over death and powerless over how it makes us feel. What we do have power over is how we are going to handle it. Amber is just trying to look for spiritual solutions in all she does. It is difficult. Doing the next RIGHT ACTION is the best thing. For us today it is going to meet with Katey Sagal and talking over coffee, then doing some laundry, and walking. A library trip may happen, a song may be written, a flower may bloom. It's just about putting one foot in front of the other, praying alot, and staying clear to hear what GOD has in store for us next.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Charlie the dog blog
It has been a really tough week for Amber and I. Ambers mama passed away and we have been through so many emotions that we just want to curl up and make it all go away. Life doesn’t happen like that though, and so my tail is lowered as we trudge through the next action. We got the call a couple of days ago that she died in her sleep from the cancer. We cried all day, and no dog bones, treats, or love could make us feel any better about it. The next day we jumped on a plane, United who is unbearable with service, and flew to Utah where we were welcomed by Ambers sister Nancy. After hugs, we packed in our suitcases and Nancy turned up Madonna and started disco dancing in her seat the whole ride to Jessica’s. She was clearly emotional but didn’t know where to put the feelings, so she sang loud the whole ride over. Amber looked out the window at the Utah mountain’s and recognized the beauty in the place mom called home. Family was gathered, stories were remembered and pictures were shown. Amber stared at a blank page of paper and wondered how to pull together a small talk for the funeral. She felt alone. She felt overwhelmed. She felt hurt. She felt a lot. Here is what she came up with about her mother, and this is what was read at the funeral.
Amber for her mother:
There really are no words to express what a loss this is for our family. We love our mother very much, and if you ask any one of her children or grandchildren you will hear that each of us, were her favorite. I have many memories of my mother. My first memory of her is a simple one. I was sitting in the sun watching her wash the dishes. I remember the feeling, more than the details. The feeling was warmth, love, and that of home sweet home. My mother was a hippie at heart, and took me in as her own at a quant little head shop in Dallas Texas. That was where the smell of incense became part of the constant swirl of smells, trips, and adventures our family lived. We traveled a lot and lived in many states, and me, Celeste, and Aimee spent more time than we would like to admit in the backseat of many junker cars as we were always off starting fresh again. We lived in Logan, Utah at a big white house that for me, will always be home. We went to church there and the smell of TABU on her breasts is my most intimate memory. I loved my mothers breasts. They used to be big, and were always the perfect pillow.
My mother would do laundry in an old ragtime washer but our laundry pile never ended. Mother loved combat boots with bright polyester blouses, and would embarrass me when her and daddy would take us to the local mall and play Miss Pac Man for hours and hours. She was hip then, and I didn’t even know it. My mother was young at heart from the time we traveled the carnivals to the day in the hospital she asked all of her children, and grandchildren to dance for her to Madonna as the nurses watched, scratching their heads with wonder.
My mom was a walking contradiction. She liked her children dressed simple, but let us pierce our ears very young and loved big dangly earrings. She taught us modesty, but threw us all in the bathtub together. She taught us about health as she ate cookie dough batter for lunch and we had sour blended dandelions for dinner. She taught us education, but we often were distracted with sledding, ice-skating, and garage sales. She taught me how to “behave damnit” as she made me pick a switch from the apple tree to “learn obedience and discipline” but never kept up with any discipline or schedule. My mother taught me tolerance of all people as she had a lot of trust for those around her. She could have a conversation with a sinner, or a saint, a president or an artist and you would never know that there was a difference between class and taught us that we can do anything we wanted in life. She wanted to live in a mansion, but cuddled with us even during hard times, making us feel safe. My mother loved and appreciated fine art, and we spent many nights watching old slides of Van Gogh and Matisse. My mother was rich, she has a family that loves her.
My mother spent many years chasing different faiths, different groups came in and out of our lives as she was always searching for her own truth. I never understood her need to go to such extremes, but her years were spent praying for guidance. My mother has that now, she now found the truth, and knows more than any of us could possibly know. She taught us to love Heavenly Father, to have our own relationship with our higher power, to have patience, kindness, love, tolerance, and a wild passion for family. She is survived by us, and we will never forget her. She is, and will always be my mother.
The funeral was a waterfall of tears, photographs that made Amber remember so many different things. It was surreal, and more can be shared on it later. Amber had a hard time watching her mother lowered to the ground, and climbed in the hole once the cement top was placed to write one more “ We love you” on top while the truck of dirt sat waiting. Her ragdoll is in the casket with her mother to remember that she is loved, no matter what.
Life is a journey for all of us, and one thing we can’t escape is the end. We have our own belief that life doesn’t stop here, so we are going to listen for birds, bells, music, and watch for hugs, kisses, and love. She will never be forgotten.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Charlie the dog blog
June Gloom is here and I am begging the sun to come out. The weather affects us, and Ambers broken foot isn't helping. I want to hike, and play ball, and run around. However, we can't always do what we want to do, and sometimes God steps in and stops us. In this case it's the weather, and broken foot. Sascha dog went after another dog today and Amber is certain it's because she needs to walk more. Aggression is a manifestation of fear, which we all have. We need to just take the next right action, and do the best we can regardless of the universe giving us other plans. Allie is in town and that makes us chipper, happy, and full of excitement. We are waiting for the clouds to go away-- and are making plans for the sun! Dating...dating on the other hand has been alot more complicated.
I would prefer to chew on a nice big juicy bone, but if a bone isn’t available I’m perfectly happy eating poop. I’m a dog, it’s what I do, I eat poop. For my two legged human, Amber, taking what’s “just available” could cause emotional distress, indigestion, and a lot of humiliation. She can’t just accept whatever poop-head that’s lying around, she has to learn to choose what she wants in a partner, or she will get what she has been getting, which is a pile of warm smelly and hazardous waste. My human needed to figure out what she wanted. She dated so many different untrained men, that by the time she hit her dating “low point” all bets were off, and the stink was starting to show. She was as pathetic as Bridget Jones before she found true love. My human let her boundaries down, and instead of getting love for being “just as she is” the men she dated would push the boundaries to see what they could get away with. Most of the time they got away with a lot, as my sad girl scrambled to figure out why she wasn’t getting what she felt she deserved. She had failed at love and had a past she regretted. Her human journey became my own personal canine project. She was acting like a pussy (cat) when it came to getting what she truly needed and wanted. Avoiding dating all together was not an option, so it was time to take a real hard look at what wasn’t working before she could figure out what would.
“When a dog wags her tail and barks at the same time, how do you know which end to believe?” – Anonymous
I covered my eyes with my paws one evening after my human had been texting one of her crushes from work. This man had not paid her any special attention, and after the breakup of a relationship with a loser (still living with his mommy) she wanted this new crush to give her significance she had no patience to earn. The new fantasy guy texted her telling her he wasn’t in a place to pursue a new relationship, but to send “sexy picks” to his email anyway “just for the fun of it.” That should have been the first red flag for her, and “double dog dares” should be left for..well, dogs. Any moron could see she should “run, don’t walk away” and stay away from her texting frenzy, but my human really liked the guy. She wanted to impress him. She put on her best bikini, took the pic, and sent it off to his mobile phone memory and waited for a lifetime of love to begin. She was looking for praise while demonstrating bad behavior. If I become a nuisance, barking non-stop like a hyena, or chew up a good Prada shoe, I am not going to be rewarded for it. Doesn’t the same apply to stupid humans? Should they expect positive results for being bad? No. No. No. Bad girl. She was fizzling faster than an alka seltzer, and just watching her drown made me need some. She tried every tactic she could think of, the same as barking up the tree for a nut, and nothing happened. She never heard back from him, but had to face him again on Monday, at work, where she hid her face behind her computer. Don’t send sexy pics to co-workers. Duh. Even a bitch knows this, but my human didn’t and she paid the price, and there was no treat as a result. Realizing that it is okay that everybody isn’t going to like you is a big step. Doing things to destroy the potential of being respected was lame, but beating yourself up for a mistake is even more lame-o. Brush it off like makeup, and move on.
“Even the tiniest Poodle or Chihuahua is still a wolf at heart.”- Dorothy Hinshaw Patent, Dogs: The Wolf Within
When I was a puppy my human did everything she could to try and get me to act as she wanted. She took me outside to pee, and I would pee on the carpet indoors instead, I would bark, she would yell, I would run away, and she would chase me, tripping over bushes and stepping in poop to try and get my attention, and to train me to be a good bitch. It was great fun watching her stress out over me, and I had all of her attention, but she had none of mine. One summer day at the fun and beautiful dog park, she let the leash go, and I took off running like a greyhound. I ran and ran, and enjoyed the wind in my ears. I loved this freedom, and wanted to be as far from my controlling human as I possibly could. She was always there, no matter what I did. She was such a nag, and I knew she never gave up on me, and would be there waiting for me when I was finished. I was free to do whatever I wanted, and her love was unconditional. I drove her insane, and I didn’t care. I’m her bitch, and it was my way or else. Amber was yelling like a shrieking, panicked, desperate woman, as she usually did when I ran away, and I didn’t give her an ounce of attention. I knew she would continue buzzing after me, and that in a moment she would catch me and spank me as I yelped to be free, humiliated when all the Great Danes in the park laughed at me for getting caught. It was the game we played, and I would not change for anything. It was far more interesting to do my own activities of humping, jumping, barking, just knowing she was there. I sniffed other dog’s asses, chased bright-flashing cars, and ate poop like it was peanut butter ice cream. It was a great frolic until she finally caught up to me, and with a tail between my legs, she made a fool of herself, and me, as she scolded me for being me, and we left the park. This cycle was our habit. Over and over again until one day everything changed. It took different debates however, and teaching an old bitch new tricks took practice.
It was a humid and hot day outside, but we returned to the park. This time she brought treats to bribe me with. Bribery works in tricky ways. Instead she got the attention of all the mixed breeds, as they ate the jerky, licked her, and went on with their day of smelling each other, and growling at her for more. I was tired of her bribery, and harassment and I continued to play. I still could hear her yelling after me until her voice was cracking, and so was her invisible whip as she yelled “get over here NOW” as she patted her knee’s sternly. I ignored her. I ignored her bribery. Then something happened. I couldn’t hear her yelling at me. I didn’t know where she was, and suddenly she was gone. I panicked. None of the other dogs in the park mattered. Nothing mattered. I wanted her there, but she was nowhere in sight. I needed my human. My tail stopped wagging, and I began to whine and howl. Just when I thought there was no hope, I spotted her. She was leaving. She had given up on me. I chased her quickly, and was at her heel in a moments notice, letting her take the lead, as I followed her home. I was so happy my human didn’t leave me.
“I’ve seen a look in dogs’ eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts. “ – John Steinbeck
There is little difference between dogs, and men. All men do not act like dogs, but some do. They don’t want to be harassed, and chased, and stalked, or bribed. They want a woman who does her own thing. We as dogs will follow a pack leader, and so will men. Pack leaders just make things go their own way, but they do it in a way that is only known to human nature. My human was trying to train her dates to sit, stay, and roll over, but she had no idea how to do it. Certainly men could be trained, but how? Dog’s under pressure will panic, and run. She was flopping around like an untrained canine that needed a good bone, and she was doing the dating deal without any dignity at all. It was a joke to witness, but as her best friend and companion for life, I loved her unconditionally. She would never get her own Mr. Right if she kept acting so desperate, and not valuing herself. She would overcompensate in anyway she could and all it suggested is one thing. She was a pushover. A pack leader doesn’t devalue herself. She won’t kill herself chasing a man down, desiring to get her own way through a shrieking yelp of desperation. Hey, does she want to be an old bag lady, with a million cats, living alone forever? I am a bitch, and I despise cats. I certainly don’t want that, and neither should she. So she needs to STOP CHASING AFTER A BONE, do her own thing, and wait for them to come to her.
My human met a good-looking guy in college. He was an artist. He was hot. He was a “troubled brooding, and deep” sort of chaos. He lived in a motor- home and moved around from spot to street, and was not in any place to have a relationship anyone he said. Amber thought he was awesome, and took it as her own job to change his mind. She bribed him into liking her by draining her savings decorating his motor home with fluffy pillows, art deco, candles, and of course, framed pictures of herself. Gag. She wanted to leave her mark on his motor home and she wanted to be thought of every day. One day, she drove to the last spot the motor home was, with a nice surprise (lingerie and tacos) and the home was gone. She called and called his cell phone, but there was no answer. She did everything wrong in this situation, bribery, giving away the bone, and was always available. I have my own pillow to lay my head on and I would never share it with other Bitch’s that just came over to re-decorate my pad.
I am possessive over my resting spot. I like it the way it is. Leave it the Fuck alone. He was gone. Some weeks later she saw the motor home parked across the street from the school. She parked her car a block away and stalked, listening to “their song” on her radio. After she almost killed me with bad lovers music, and I had to get out to pee, the motor-home door opened, and out walked a skinny blond, hand in hand with Mr. Jerk off. Amber was so sad, but she deserved every tear she cried. What kind of dumbass re-decorates a mans place, even if it was a moving home on wheels? Bribery, and gifts are for Bitch’s to not pee on the rug, and to come when people call. It rarely works for us, and it doesn’t work with men, obviously. I ran to bark up the leg of Mr. Wrong and the cute little blond pet me, wiping half of her spray on tan on my fur. My human grabbed me up, tail between legs, and ran to her car. After stalking his Myspace page like a crazy loon, she saw that Mr. wrong was “in a relationship” with the new blond and her tan. That girl was sleeping on my human girls pillows, and her bank account and heart suffered for it. She had tried to use bribery to get his love. It didn’t work. After a week we stopped listening to “their song” and curled up together with a cup of latte, and my lonesome human was single again.
Lessons of Paw:
* Don’t settle for poop, wait for the big juicy bone.
* Choose what you really want in a partner.
*Barking up the wrong tree will only get you a nut.
*Bribery doesn’t work.
* Dogs and men under pressure will panic and run.
* Stop chasing.
* Be a pack leader, not a follower.
“To Err is human, to forgive, canine”- Unknown
Charlie the dog blog