Thanksgivin' Thanks

I have had such awful writer's block here on MargeBlog for the past week, possibly because of the extraordinary amount of writing I've done alone for what was supposed to be a group project. Fortunately, I get to give myself an extra day to think, because I promised Frankie that I'd let Marge speak for herself today and talk about how her life has changed.  

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Hallo. Marge here. FINALLY the hooman has given me another opportunity to write here for myself. It has been toooo long.

My blog so often focuses on what my life is like now.  With lots of training, walkies, agilities, that funny thing that my hooman calls "behavior modifications."  But, I wasn't always here.  In fact, I was far, far away from Poo York City when I was just a pupper.

I can't remember it all now.  We dogs' brains are only so big, and, surely, I have more important things to remember like back crosses and which treat I feel like having on a given day.  But, the jist of it is, I was sent as a tiny young'n, with my eyes still shut, to a scary place called "Animal Control."  I'm not sure what I did to make them think they needed to control me, my momma Nellie, and my six brothers and sisters, but life's not very fair, I guess.

Somewhere along the line, some rescroo people came and got all of us.  I don't remember much about my puppyhood with them, except that one of my littermates got adopted and so did my mom, eventually.  Oh, there also weren't a lot of people around, very much less than the number of people here in Poo York.  My hooman often says I was "raised on a mountain in Georgia," and I have a feeling it might be this that she is thinking of when she says that.

It's not that the rescroo people weren't nice.  They even had us do some basic 'bedience training, just like the ones that I did last year with my hooman's club.  But the problem was that there weren't so many of them around.  How was I 'spose to know which ones were nice and which ones weren't?  We were all really confused growing up there, and we wondered why none of us were getting adopted.

Turns out there's this thing that makes people not like dark colored doggies.  So that's why all the other dogs were leaving, but we still had to stay.  Eventually, when we were almost all growned up, they put us in cages on a big car-thingy and we went to Poo Jersey.  Except, they didn't want most of us there, either (they said they had no space -- but I think they just didn't want black doggies!) and, in the middle of the night, we wound up in Poo York.  Scatten Eyeland, to be exact.  

The next day, my hooman came in for work, at the shelter - kind of like animal control, except less controlling and much nicer with toys and a play pen.  The nice man, Frank, told her that there were nine new dogs from a big transport.  She went to go see us all, and she says that I immediately caught her eye.  She still remembers what cage I was in, too.  

We all had to go out for our morning potty breaks, and she chose to take me out.  It was nice walking behind the kennel and smelling all the Poo York smells.  Much different than anything I'd ever smelled before!

I saw my hooman a couple of other times that week, coming in to the shelter to either work or volunteer.  She would sit with me and play with me and my brothers.

On the day of her high school gradumacation, she braved up and asked her mom if she wanted to come see us at the shelter.  That Saturday, she introduced my brother, Homer, and me to her mom.  Her mom didn't like Homer, because she thought he was a lot more scared than me. (Don't worry, though - he found a home, too, and is doing great!) Her mom did like me, though, and the next day, I went to their house for a trial visit.  I needed to win the approval of the queen of the house.

It went pretty well. The cat was confused, and I wanted to eat her poop, but it worked out okay. That was Joone 29th, the first day I got to see my new digs.  I went to the shelter to sleep for one more night, and after work that Monday, my hooman took me home with her. Joone 30th - I was home for good.

It was the start of the rest of my life, and little did I know how much things would change!

Ok, now that I've given my story, it is officially time to return to kitchen duty. I tend to run laps up and down the stairs if I smell ham being cooked and can't get to it. Tonight shall be no different! Especially when Grandma (my hooman's grandma) comes back over to our house tomorrow.. she can never seem to resist giving me a taste!

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OK, the "hooman's" turn again. Goodness knows I can only part with my beloved blog for so long.

It really is amazing to sit back and think about all that Marge has been through in her life. This is a dog that was essentially deprived up a puppyhood. She didn't know what toys were when I first got her. She wasn't housebroken. She didn't know what to do with herself except sit in front of the TV, staring at us, probably still wondering in her own doggy way who she was, where she was, and how she got there.

The setbacks in training have been immense, yes. There are times when I want to scream and cry and rip my hair out of my head because I don't know what to do or if what I am doing is right or if it will help her. But it is still a miracle that we've gotten this far. A little black dog from Georgia, grew up on a mountain, still on that lifelong journey to learning about life in the face of innumerable sights and sounds. A dog whose courage reaches its peak as she begins to descend the A-Frame, a dog who can still have fun despite the vast shortcomings of puppyhood. My great friend, my biggest challenge, my resilient partner, my number-one teammate in the great big world of dogs.

I've got a lot to be thankful for this year. A healthy dog, a healthy cat, a mostly healthy family, a great boyfriend and a life more fortunate than many get to experience. When it all gets put into perspective, I can really see how lucky I am.