Lucy Belle, on the prowl

When Lucy and I moved to Nashville, we stopped walking. It was cold, snowy sometimes, and I didn’t know the best way to navigate our new neighborhood, so we kept to our one street, walking back and forth. Also, IT WAS COLD.

So when we finally started taking our long walks again in the spring, we explored and really got to know the neighborhood. And as I have been training for this half marathon, we have seen even more streets in our neighborhood.

One thing that I immediately noticed as we began walking again was all the wildlife. Chipmunks, squirrels and white tailed rabbits abound on all of the streets. And while Lucy didn’t notice them at first, she has become more and more curious as the summer has dragged on.

Since we run in the early mornings, we oftentimes catch a glimpse of rabbits and other creatures starting their days, too.

And these critters? Drive Lucy INSANE.

Whenever we walk out the door, she immediately drags me to where the chipmunks normally hide — in the drainage pipe, of course. Then we run down the road to find more hiding places. Then the rabbits show up.

And it all goes downhill from there.

As we run, we spot more animals, and Lucy yanks me — ALL OF ME — in an attempt to chase them down. (The good news? I’ve developed quite an arm muscle in my right arm because of this.)

On any given morning, we see about 50 small, furry creatures. Lucy tries to chase down about half of them.

I continually tell Lucy, “Little rabbit doesn’t want to be your friend,” or, “That chipmunk doesn’t look too friendly. We should avoid him.”

She never listens. And maybe that’s for the best because, if nothing else, these excursions make every morning interesting.

                          

She’s nuzzled my hand through thick and thin.

Including the times where I’ve been ill.

This past weekend was no different. I had a migraine, something I haven’t experienced since I left my old job, and I was lounging in bed. When I have a migraine, walking is out of the question. So is doing anything productive or fun because EVERYTHING hurts my eyes.

Lucy laid by the bed.

I had to rush into the bathroom and lost my stomach time and time again.

She sat outside of the bathroom door.

I went downstairs and laid on the couch, recovering from my headache, and then Lucy started making that gross heaving dogs make before they vomit. And she threw up all over the floor, after I steered her away from the carpeted steps AND the couch.  (Eww. Sorry. I bet y’all didn’t want that visual, huh?)

There isn’t anything strange about this, really. As my mother says, my puppy has a nervous stomach. And, after having checked with the vet time and again, dogs just do this sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about unless it’s happening every day.

The weird thing about her being sick, though, is the fact that the past two times I have been laid up at home with a migraine or a stomach bug? She’s been sick, too.

Now, I don’t know if there is a connection here, but I do know one thing: her sniffing me over and poking me with her wet nose makes me feel a little better, and I can only hope me stroking her fur and whispering happy thoughts helps Lucy pep up, too.

If not… well, that’s just sad.

And, if all else fails, we have the boy to help us out. He is so supportive and understanding. He also cooks up a mean bowl of chicken noodle soup.

                          

I knew it was bound to happen someday, but I didn’t expect it this weekend.

The boy, Lucy and I headed to a local park yesterday morning to get in some exercise. We’ve always adored said park because it isn’t ever crowded and there is a long walking trail that snakes through the grassy area.

When we arrived around 11 a.m., there was a notable change in the park. There were dozens of people, and each one had at least one small child in tow. Young couples were walking their dogs and pushing strollers at the same time. And children — dozens of children — were swinging, sliding, playing hide and seek on the playground equipment next to the walking path. Some kids and their parents were more adventurous and were exploring the creek bed that runs through the park, and we had a good laugh because when I was a kid, there was a creek near my house, and I was there ALL THE TIME. Catching frogs and minnows and other living creatures that were cool back then.

We made our way through the busiest part of the park easily, and we all took a deep breath when we reached the wide open space. Because we’d never seen the park that busy before. And because Lucy was incredibly wary of the hoard of children. (We think the sights and sounds were too much for her. But every time she has spent one-on-one time with a young child, she has been a calm, not-neurotic champion.)

As we walked, we talked about this and that. What our Fridays were like, what we wanted to do for lunch, how spring cleaning was going, and finally, children. Not about having kids, but kids in general — what we liked to do as kids and who we know is starting a family soon.

For whatever reason, seeing all those little kids together and walking with my pup and fiancé made my biological clock audible. And, before this point, I’d never heard it.

Sure, I’ve always known I wanted to have children when I “grew up,” but after spending four summers as a camp counselor, I was sure of two things. First off, I wanted to be prepared — married and settled down and ready to take on the responsibility. And secondly? I didn’t want to have a litter. (Because keeping track of EIGHT children the same age from your cabin is fun for a week or two, but I cannot imagine that in real life. So whoever does that drew a tough hand, but is a saint in my eyes. Because that is INTENSE.)

Yeah.

So, for the first time ever, I could hear my biological clock ticking. And, while it excites me for the far-off future, it’s a little overwhelming right now because, honestly, I never thought this day would come. And because we are not ready to be responsible for anyone more than ourselves and Lucy.

And, after having spoken to some friends about this last night, I’ve been told it will only get worse as time passes.

Which is fantastic. And something I totally don’t need to add to my crazy just yet — bride brain is more than enough, thankyouverymuch.

…

What about you, friends? Has your biological clock made itself obvious in your life? And, if so, does it get better or worse?

And, for any guys reading, do you think we’re all a little crazy now?

                          

Last July, I saw your photo on Petfinder. That same month, you rejected me, then recognized me and convinced me to take you home. And you’ve been with me ever since.

You turned two today. It’s hard to believe because you have just as much, if not more, energy than when I took you home. But here you are. My little puppy teenager.

Rebellious. Loving. Wild. Affectionate. You encompass these all, and I am truly lucky to have such an amazing pup in my life.

Happy birthday, Lucy Belle! Here’s to the second year of many!

                          

Lucy and I take long walks through our new neighborhood most days of the week, as long as the weather is nice and we have the time.

We were minding our business on our Monday afternoon walk, taking in the sights. We were still close to home, just having turned onto another street, so every ten feet, Lucy was squatting to mark her land.

We passed a woman climbing out of her car, and I said, “Hello.” She replied, I told her to have a nice day, and we continued walking, not thinking much of the encounter.

In this woman’s yard, Lucy wanted to water the grass, so I stopped. And then I heard someone yelling.

“NU-UH! DON’T DO THAT! GET OFF MY LAWN RIGHT NOW!”

I turned to find the woman I had just greeted yelling at ME because my dog was taking a piss in her lawn.

“She’s just tinkling.”

“I don’t care what she’s doing. She doesn’t need to be doing it in my lawn. It looked like she was about to do something else. EVERYONE LETS THEIR DOGS LEAVE PRESENTS IN MY LAWN, AND I’M ALWAYS HAVING TO PICK IT UP. I’M SICK OF IT!”

“Well, I’m sorry they’ve done that. But Lucy has never done that in your lawn.”

“Well, she was about to before I yelled, and IF YOU WERE A CONSIDERATE PERSON, YOU WOULD BE CARRYING A PLASTIC BAG TO PICK IT UP!”

It should be noted that I had a plastic bag in my shirt pocket, that my dog wasn’t about to take a dump in the woman’s yard, and if she did, I would have picked it up. I’m considerate like that.

She didn’t even let me say anything.

She continued ranting about how people in this neighborhood are SO inconsiderate and how we need to stay OUT of her lawn.

“OK, we’ll do that. We will NEVER walk near your lawn again.”

This promise is going to be really challenging to keep because she lives in a corner lot on a big street. A street we walk down daily.

“Good. Because whenever your dog pees in my lawn, she’s messing up the grass, too. Look at all the brown spots! Those are because of your dog.”

There are brown spots throughout the entire lawn. Lucy has peed in this yard maybe five times. Near the sidewalk. Clearly, it’s all our fault. We should probably offer to have her lawn replanted, or whatever you have to do with that.

“OK. We’ll stay away. Don’t you worry. Have a LOVELY day.”

And we started on our walk again, Lucy looking up at my confused. The woman said nothing.

The woman, who was standing by her car, made her way to the corner and watched as we walked on the sidewalk through her front lawn, making sure Lucy didn’t stop and pee again or leave her a little present.

As soon as we were off her property, she walked back into her house.

I was so stunned from the encounter that I called a co-worker, then a few friends to recount what just happened to me.

Because, honestly? A dog peeing in your lawn TOTALLY warrants an all-out scolding of the dog’s owner.

Duh.

                          

I am currently sprawled across the couch, waiting for Project Runway to begin. I have my favorite green fleece blanket wrapped around my leg, and I am anxiously awaiting my show. And curling up with my puppy and going to sleep a little later.

A few days ago, I would have rather ran a marathon than have sat on this couch.

It all started last Friday. I got home from work early, and I took Lucy on a walk. When we got back to the house, I noticed she was constantly scratching and realized, to my dismay, there were a few fleas crawling on her.

After picking off all the pests I could, I gave her a bath, thinking that would make things better.

She stopped itching for a little bit, and I figured we were in the clear. Maybe this was something like the tick scare we had last year.

But no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. That wasn’t the end. That was just the beginning.

I awoke Saturday morning with some bites on my stomach. I figured a mosquito or two found its way into my home and participated a feeding frenzy while I was sleeping. I shrugged it off.

Sunday morning, I woke up with more bites, this time on my legs and ankles. Once again, I shrugged it off, hopped in the shower and headed out to church and for my one day off.

It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that I realized what was happening.

It rained while I was at church and the mall, and I rushed home to enjoy the storm with Lucy. One of my favorite rainy day activities is napping, and I immediately passed out when I sat down in front of the television, wrapped in my green blanket, and my puppy curled up next to me.

I woke up an hour or so later with a few fleas crawling on my shirt and pants and proceeded to have a mini-breakdown after picking them off me and drowning them in the sink.

I did the math.

Apparently, my yard has fleas. Thus, my dog has fleas, even though I put that flea medication on her shoulders every month. And since my dog has fleas and sleeps in my bed and fawns all over me every chance she gets? I MUST HAVE FLEAS.

Que me freaking out.

I was happy to leave the home Monday morning for work because I was itching so much. It wasn’t that fleas were jumping and crawling all over me, but the fact that Lucy was scratching so much made me feel I should also be.

I didn’t know what to do or how to defeat these pests, so I did what any unsure/needy pet owner would do. I called my vet’s office.

The people at my vet’s office know me by the sound of my voice. THAT is how often I have called them throughout this past year. They all know and love Lucy and have been so helpful with every problem we’ve had.

So when I called and told Rebecca about fleas attacking Lucy, my home and me, she gave me instructions as to how we were going to make this better.

First off, I was going to give Lucy some Benadryl to help with the itching.

(THIS was an interesting experience, to say the least. Lucy Belle is not one for taking any kind of medication that don’t taste like peanut butter or beef. So when she spit out the pills and refused to open her mouth after several attempts to pry her jaws open and shove the medicine down her throat, I got out her Kong and filled it with peanut butter. And the pills. It was a done deal.)

Secondly, I was going to come into the office and get some flea medication, as well as some spray to coat EVERY surface in my home. I would do that, let it sit for an hour to kill all fleas, and then vacuum, vacuum, vacuum.

And lastly, I was going to go to a local home supply store and buy some fire ant/flea killer to place in my yard.

…

Yeah.

I don’t know if y’all know this about me, but I am NOT someone who enjoys yard work or, you know, anything related to pest control. So I’m sure my friends and family would have laughed if they saw me waddling around the yard with that 20 lb. bag of fire ant killer, flinging it in every direction and going as fast as I could to beat the thunderstorm brewing…

But I got it done.

Then I sprayed down all the surfaces in my home, top to bottom.

And then we went for an hour-long walk.

When we got back to the house, I gave Lucy a long bath. (She hopped into the tub herself! We’re making progress!) And then I vacuumed for about 45 minutes, sucking up anything and everything that could have bitten me OR my dog in the past days.

That was Tuesday evening.

It’s Thursday evening, and I have not seen, heard or FELT a flea since that night. Lucy is scratching less, and all is well in our household. Other than the fact that someone growled at me when I tried to sit with her because she was eating a rawhide.

I hope it stays that way. And I hope the bites all over my body heal up quickly so I won’t look like a swarm of insects attacked me at random.

So there you have it, folks. My name is E.P., I’m almost 25, and I had fleas.

What’s your story?

                          

Remember that time I recommitted to a lifestyle change after sucking it up for half the year?

Well, I made a HUGE step forward tonight.

Lucy and I went on a run through our old neighborhood. And at the end of it, I didn’t want to die or pass out. In fact, I felt a little refreshed.

That’s HUGE, folks!

As someone who has hated running ever since she started playing basketball competitively, I was amazed that my knees weren’t killing me, that the dog wasn’t dragging my slow butt down the street and that I didn’t stop after a block. In fact, I ran for most of the time.

Here’s to hoping I can start tomorrow off right with an early morning run before work. And maybe take a nice leisurely walk after work with the Belle puppy…

                          

Exactly one year ago yesterday, I picked up a drowsy and confused black and white pup at the local animal shelter. Instead of driving the ten minutes back to my apartment, we trekked five hours to my mother’s home in Memphis. By the end of the drive, Lucy knew her name. Once there, she didn’t want to be out of my sight, and my mother’s dog Callie taught Lucy Belle what to do with milkbones and how to play with other dogs.

It’s hard to believe that Lucy Belle has been in my life for the past year.

I first spotted her on the Internet and KNEW I had to rescue her. She was THAT cute. However, our first meeting didn’t go so well, and I left horribly disappointed. I went back to the shelter a few times, and I couldn’t stop thinking about any dog but her. And then she recognized me on one of those visits, and my heart melted. During this time, I also learned she was picked up from a section of town a few days after a deadly SHOOTING occurred. Despite her being a little bigger than I wanted her to be, I figured I could convince my apartment owners she was really only 35 pounds. And if they didn’t believe me, we could move. Easy peasy.

When the decision was made, my sorority family came with me to pay for her and to say hello. I didn’t tell the girls which dog I had chosen, and when they passed Lucy’s cage, they just knew she was my pup. We took some photos, said our goodbyes and good lucks on the surgery (which would happen sometime within the next week at the free spay/neuter clinic) to her and went to lunch to brainstorm names. The name Lucy stood out immediately. My mother added the Belle, and we all agreed that her nickname would be “The Bandit.” (Unbeknownst to us, she would gain new nicknames quickly. Hence Lucy B, Belle Pup, BB, Lucille, Belly, Terror Pup, etc.)

Lucy adapted to my home easily, but she wasn’t too nice to any boys who came over. Or walked by the apartment. (Sorry, numerous male co-workers who dealt with Lucy’s wrath.) She didn’t even accept the boy ’till CHRISTMAS. But she eventually came around, and she loves him SO MUCH it’s sickening now.

It’s hard to believe that a year ago, she was afraid of the boy whenever he came into the room. It’s also hard to believe how far she has come. We’ve battled puppy IBS, the winter (and rainstorms), Lucy’s sketchy past and so much more together.

We’ve been to two sets of training classes (and graduated from both!), spent hours learning tricks, chased multiple tennis balls in the apartment but have not touched them at the dog park, walked countless miles throughout our neighborhood and driven countless miles to the dog park, among other things.

It’s hard for me to imagine where I would be without Lucy. She has been next to me for the highs and lows of this job and this town. She has been with me to celebrate (though she is NOT allowed champagne), and she has been beside me, licking the tears off my cheeks. She has been a constant pick-me-up, whether she is chasing her tail (and catching it) or simply snuggling.

This past year would have been so different if she hadn’t come into my life last July.

Happy (belated) adoption day, sweet puppy! You have made such a difference in my life this past year!

                          

Stylish friends,

This is Lucy Belle. I’ve hijacked my mother’s computer to get your help. Mmhmm. Soak that in. This fabulous pup is asking for YOUR help.

(You should feel honored, btw.)

As some of you know, my mother is horribly indecisive. I’m not, but since she hasn’t taught me to speak just yet (even though I can type, ha!), I cannot express my opinions. And believe me, I have MANY. About the repairmen, the neighbors, that paper bag on the kitchen table that makes a scary noise. About pretty much everything.

But anyway, for Christmas, Mom got me a stylish necklace set. But since she’s horribly indecisive and a broke journalist, she never got around to getting me a charm to hang on the necklace.

Sure, my purple and gold ‘Geaux Tigers!’ collar has a shiny gold bone, but I need a pendant for this collar since I wear it everyday but game days.

We have narrowed them down to the following:

via lovebarklee

via makeyourdogsmile

via makeyourdogsmile

via CristinaAshleyDesign

via PoochyCouture

via anandi

via BragAboutIt

If you were me, which charm would you wear with pride as you trot around your home?

Tell my mom. She really needs your help.

Snuggles and slobbery kisses,
Lucy Belle

                          

ME: “I wish I could teach Lucy how to vaccum up all her hair because it’s obnoxious.”

MY BOY: “…”

ME: “You know the allergist said I need to vacuum once a day? It’d probably be more manageable if I did it, but vacuuming still sucks. I wish she could clean up after herself. Or iron my clothes.”

MY BOY: “I wish we would teach Lucy how to talk so we could finally know what’s going through her crazy little head.”