I have more tell you about Toronto, and I will probably sprinkle a little Swiss life over your computer screens one of these days, but today....*sigh*....I'm homesick.
It was bound to happen.
Switzerland is rolling out the white carpet, the air is frosty, the wine is warm and spiced, the cheese is molten, but today it's not home.
So you are all just going to have indulge me today as I tell you about one of the best parts of home: Tia.
For people who are new here, yeah that's right: today's post is about my dog. Maybe tomorrow it will be more interesting. But you'll never know unless you click back. You'll never know. Muhahaha.
And for people who've been here before, the the last time I mentioned Tia you might have all been left with a smelly impression of our resident hound. I just can't have that.
Tia used to be my Bup's dog, but then my Bup had a few health problems that meant he just couldn't give her all the exercise she really needed for a dog her size (uh, she actually weighs 112 lbs--I had to take her to the vet for a check-up while I was home. She is also not overweight for her size. She's just a beast.) so my Mom and Dad happily agreed to take Tia in.
Tia came into their lives shortly after our family dog, Kelly, had passed away at the ripe age of fifteen, and everyone who's had dogs--or pets for that matter--knows what a gaping hole is left by their absence. Kelly's passing was keenly felt by all my family (honestly, it was like loosing a sibling--we'd had her for FIFTEEN years), and Tia's rambunctious energy was welcome.
Here are a few quirks that I love about this dog.
1. She weighs 112 lbs, but I'm convinced she thinks she's a lap dog. She LOVES cuddling. Absolutely thrives on it. The closer she can be to you, the better. On one of the days I was suffering with the Plague/Malaria, I was lying down by the fire trying to snooze. I heard Tia's bear paws click-click-click on the hardwood floor upstairs, then I heard her bounding down the stairs to try and find me. When she found me by the fire she proceeded to run over and flop directly on top of me, barking and growl/groaning with contentment. I however, couldn't breathe.
I'm am the most beautiful dog in the land.
However, I have a rare case of body dismorphia syndrome wherein I actually believe I am smaller than I really am.
I actually believe I am a tiny chihuahua, and my humans will never convince me otherwise.
2. My mom and dad have one of those wire head-scratcher thingamijs, and when I was home I took to scratching Tia's head with it. So one night Meg and I are sitting on the couch watching television and I absentmindedly picked up the scratcher; Tia was lying on the floor but she lifted her head, saw me holding the scratcher, and got so excited that she proceeded (with tail wagging) to clumsily and enthusiastically climb onto the couch, throw herself into Meg's lap and try to curl herself into a tight little ball so we'd scratch her head. It was hilarious, and it really hurt.
3. She likes to be vacuumed. If you happen to be vacuuming, she will follow you around until you stop and run the vacuum hose up and down her back. Also hilarious.
4. Her tail should be classified as a dangerous weapon. She is actually taller than my parent's coffee table, and because Tia is always in a happy mood, her tail is constantly wagging; therefore, it is never a good idea to have candles, wine glasses, or anything breakable, resting on the coffee table because one wag of her tail clears the surface.
5. She snores. Like my god she needs one of those breathe easy strips to go across her nose. The first night I was home, I was just drifting off when I heard what I assumed to be the fridge motor dying a really loud and jolting death. I went upstairs to check things out, but nope the fridge wasn't broken--Tia was just snoring.
How dare you tell people about my snoring.
I turn my back on you.
6. My parent's back yard can at times look like a stuffed animal's worst nightmare: there is cotton batting everywhere. There is nothing she loves more than getting a new (used) stuffed animal that she can tear apart in minutes. With one exception....
7. Teddy. For some unexplained reason, she will not hurt Teddy. She packs him around like he's her blankie, she sleeps with him, and she does not tear him to bits. When you walk through the front door, she runs to go find Teddy, then she brings his stinky, soggy, body to you like she's offering you the best gift in the world. Except she's not offering you Teddy because if you try to take him, she growls at you and runs away.
I love Teddy, so don't even think of taking him from me.
8. Finally, she is tall enough to have clear access to whatever food happens to be left out on the kitchen counter. Not long ago my mom went into the kitchen to discover that over half a batch of her high-fibre-loaded-with-goodness-contained-spelt-flour-no-chocolate-chips-can't-imagine-they-tasted-good-uber-healthy muffins had disappeared--wrappers and all. Not a crumb remained.
All I have to say about that is: thank goodness for dogs--they'll eat anything.
Kidding, Mom! Kidding! I'm sure the muffins would have tasted good, but Tia just solved the problem of us having to discover that on our own.
Who could stay mad at these faces?
For Christmas, Tia would like a new stuffie to destroy, preferably with a squeaker, and some bacon treats.