So Not Zen

As you may recall, our mother got herself into quite the jam…something Zoe and I both appreciate along with peanut butter, cream cheese, and while we are on the topic of bread spreads, LOX!  Our Michigan Grandmother – who happens to be part of the story in which our mother got herself into a pickle (don’t even get me started on condiments) – also loves raspberry jam on her bagel…one of the reasons I know we are related.  Anyhow, the time I am referring to is when my mother announced to her in-laws that my middle name was Marie.

For more on that you can read this old story:  https://montanamomentstrn.wordpress.com/2017/05/02/middle-name-marie/

– by the way, I think I was falsely accused of being a Marie…just saying.

But this current story is about a recent discussion about what Zoe’s middle name should be.  As it turns out, my cousin who shares my middle name – who we will call EML – was in on this conversation and mentioned her younger sisters’ middle name is Elizabeth.  Turns out, in her opinion Zoe shares a number of diabolical characteristics with her sister.  It was at this point that The Scribe started giggling pretty much uncontrollably.  It turns out, something I knew…but forgot, our Mother’s middle name is also Elizabeth.  A kind of irony, circular nature of the universe, that almost blew my mind…if I wasn’t curled up with our Dad rolling around in total bemusement.

So, after I wept the tears of laughter out of my eyes, I started piecing together what Zoe’s initials would spell.  If she took our fathers last name she would be ZEN.  Should our parents have decided to christen her with our mothers last name she would be ZEB.

Then the next time we were at the vets office for our yearly shots, vet prodding of parts that should – in my opinion – be left alone, after we were rewarded for our grand behavior with some delicious treats, I recalled that when the receptionist called us, they announced that the room for Zoe Browman was ready.

HA!!!

I knew that Zoe could not be ZEN as she has exhibited no Zen-like behaviors toward me or our pack…although I am glad – most of the time – that she joined our clan.

The Tempest

Lest you forget

My hashtag is TempiTrouble and don’t think, just because I’m now the eldest, that my ability to live up to my trademark has diminished.

Case in point: Dad’s sandals…

Obviously, these shoes had some serious design flaws.  In fact, so many I could barely concentrate on which wrong to right.  So, speaking of rights, I chewed through the velcro strap on the right shoe in order to give him (my dad) a little more flexibility.  Then there was the left shoe.  Actually, both of them had this horrible plastic loop holding the straps together (bottom right pic above demonstrates the practical limitations these plastic parts) but I chose to modify the left one – again to help out dad.  After all my efforts to improve the function of his sandals, he opted for picture hanging wire to “re”-connect the aforementioned straps.  His loss.  I gave him the perfect set of sandals and he totally blew it.

Then there was the toilet paper incident…

I think it speaks for itself.   But in my defense,

• 1) who leaves the bathroom door open when Zoe and I are around?
• 2) who leaves TP sitting unattached to that little holder thingy next to the toilet?

Then comes the AppleTV remote.  This thing which my Dad happened to find in the couch cushions tonight.  Granted, it had been stowed in the drawer of our “coffee table” in front of the couch…but given that this supposedly safe spot was not secured (or closed completely) the remote needed to be taught a lesson:

To be clear, the majority of damage to the above remote was done by my sister (Zoe) after a moment of spasticity that knocked the instrument from my fathers hand, which was soon followed by a smashing sound as it hit the ground of our patio.  But in total honesty, some of the lost chips on the corners may have been the result of my work this afternoon.

But my  pinnacle of achievement (both aesthetically and symbolically) was my work on this book a week or so ago.  And by “work”, I obviously mean my consumption, digestion, and critical interpretation of this classic piece by “he says his name’s William but I’m sure he’s Bill or Billy or Mac or Buddy1″:

THE Tempest

1. Cheryl Crow, All I want to do, 1993

The Good, The Bad, and The Beautiful…

This is going to be a short written entry since Zoe has a film she put together that she would like to share.  What she entitled her work may be more reflective on how we feel and felt at the time of filming.  However, I felt I should put a more positive spin on the events depicted…in order to draw in more viewers…and thus the title of this blog (which is pulled from hidden messages in Zoe’s work).  I am basing this on the fact that, as you may have noticed, Hollywood likes happy endings presumably because people pay good money to watch things that make their hearts warm.  I think Robert Altman (tongue no doubt in cheek) captured this sentiment the best with his motion picture entitled The Player.  I leave it to you to judge the intent/meaning/message Zoe is trying to impart but I have a feeling the last few frames says it all.

The Tempest

Lost and Found

We recently visited Michigan and I immediately picked up on a number of things that were missing from the scene.   However, I also smelled that there was a certain amount of sadness as one of these mainstays at our grandparents house was no longer there.  So, rather than making a big scene about things (thankfully – my Mom said before hand she would loose her you know what if I went and looked for the missing love and was sad), I opted for the more dog-like attitude of adapting to the new scene and giving appropriate kisses to those of my extended pack …and of course biting Zoe so she also conformed to the new pack situation.

It was a BitterSweet visit since the status quo had changed but I did my best to fill the void while there – and I guess the glass of wine also helped to calm me (even though I did not quite fill the chair…):

We had a good visit and I knew we’d be back soon since it was nearing September which means football season – which might also be a factor in the lack of recent correspondence (the Scribe losing a bit of focus).

But upon our return, we found one of the missing pieces that made our Michigan home complete…our Mom’s favorite blanket:

Obviously, Zoe isn’t treating this with the appropriate respect, so I got involved (the Scribe sitting on the sideline with his iPhone in tow – like usual):

and pulled the aforementioned blanket out from under the Zoidberg.

This past weekend, we were left behind with our pet sitters as my parents returned to Ann Arbor.   From what I could ascertain from their conversations upon returning home, the blanket…which, by the way, ended up at our house because of the “Zoe Incident” the last time we visited (FarMor thought “Zoe”… aka Mom… would be comforted having it on the way home…)…was a comfort to our mother during the visit (although she often mistook it for one of us pups).

(there the blanket is in Michigan with my ‘cuz Snowy, then in the car with Zoe…in color, but also there with her in B&W – boy was she a mess).

However, based on our parents attitude when arriving home yesterday (an event in which they were rewarded with multiple Zoe “four-paws-in-the-air-hugs” and multiple “leg-twist-butt-rubs” from me – and kisses, kisses, kisses) I sensed that there was still something missing in A2.  But I also got the sense that what was missing will never be lost…which I admit sounds weird but believe is true.  Sometimes, something goes missing and is never found.  Other times you end up finding it under some things in the basement or tucked behind something in a closet.   And then there are those entities which you never see again but never leave your heart.  They never stop making an impression on who you are.  Never really leave the world even if you can no longer spend time with whatever it is you lost.  And in fact, that blanket which we did find was something a good friend of my grandparents in Michigan gave them – her children being there this weekend for whatever event we were not invited to.  Not knowing much – being a dog and all – I hope they also come to terms with all the positive things that their pack brought to them…even if sometimes (maybe even more often than not) their hands got some negative impressions….things heal with time.

Best wishes to all…and more stories of our exploits to come – I SWEAR!

The Tempest