Little Miss Independence!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Fudge has always been a very independent dog.  I like that trait about her, because I have had Velcro dogs in the past who plastered themselves to me and if I took one step and turned around, the odds of me tripping over a dog were very high.  In my relationship with Fudge I am the needy one, because it is usually me following her around and telling her to come back to bed with mommy so we can snuggle.  She mixes up her routine to keep me on my toes and one day she will want up on the bed with me and the next day she will walk right by my pleading eyes and settle in her own bed.  Sometimes she likes when I get all settled in bed, my pillows just where I want them, the computer open in my lap, and then her little head appears to let me know she considered all her options and since nothing better was out there, she guessed she could spare me some time.  I really think somewhere down her ancestral line some creative breeder mixed in cat and I may have one of the first Labracatdoodles.

Is this Fudge's great great grandmother?

Don’t get me wrong. Fudge is the most loyal dog I have presently. Vern will march right out the door with my husband or daughter and not look back to see if I am coming.  Every man for himself seems to be Vern’s motto if a car ride is involved, but not Fudge.  Fudge doesn’t want to go unless she thinks I will be tagging along.  The other day we were all out in the woods with the dogs each of us trying to get pictures of them and I was so focused on what I was doing that I backed up and fell backwards over a campground grill. 

My daughter was kind enough to wait until I got back up to start laughing, but I was concerned she may need a change of pants as the laughter escalated.  My husband was sympathetic to my first fall, but when I fell again stepping into a hole, both of them took a moment to capture the moment with their cameras, and my husband said and I quote, “I am trying to figure out the settings on this new camera and you keep falling and distracting me.”  His husbandly concern seemed to lend credence to my theory that in the future if I should fall or have a heart attack, my survival rate is going to depend on timing and what show he happens to be watching or what he is doing when I go down. On my first fall when both dogs were off leash, Vern used the distraction to exercise his legs and run circles around me, but Fudge stayed put and seemed genuinely concerned for my well being.

 

I’ve dealt with independence plenty with my children and still endure my oldest calling from Oregon to tell me something or complain about something and shoot me down the moment I try and give her some motherly advice. The other day I asked her if she could send me a script so I could respond accordingly with my lines, because frankly I am tired of hearing, “mom, why can’t you just listen and not say anything stupid to me?”  I almost can hear Fudge saying the same thing to me when I command her to drop the ball and she walks over and plops it right down on my foot so it goes rolling away and I have to go chase it down. Now, before you say something about Fudge probably has no other choice but to drop the ball on my extra large feet, she does it on purpose.  I am convinced it is her way of saying, “I know I am supposed to drop the ball and I don’t need you stating the obvious.” 

The thing is an independent child or dog can really pluck your nerves sometimes, but just when you think they don’t need you anymore, they might prove you wrong.  My daughter and son-in-law were home for a whirlwind weekend to attend a funeral this past week and we saw very little of them.  On Sunday morning, the dogs and I pushed her over in bed and climbed in with her and her husband. 

Despite their screams and my SIL covering his head with the blankets, when I hugged her and said, “I’m not going to let you guys go back to Oregon ever,” she hugged me back and said, “I wish we could stay longer, mom, but this is really weird.”  I couldn’t understand everything my son-in-law was saying under the blanket, but it sounded a lot like, “I can’t breathe. Get Vern off of me!  Fudge, stop licking me!  Megan, make her leave!  Thank God, we live in Oregon,” but I could be wrong as it was muffled.  The point is not that I lack boundaries, but in between telling me I was strange, she kept hugging me back because we really do miss each other.

 

Yesterday, I took Fudge to the vet and she was very nervous. She sat next to me in the waiting room and all but climbed in my lap.  Occasionally, she would look over at me and give me a kiss.  Some part of her body had to be touching me, which isn’t like Fudge at all.  Normally, she is on high alert and just waiting to react to something, however in the vet’s waiting room, I think she was hoping to go unnoticed as she sat quietly beside me. She was sore from her shots that night and wanted up on the bed with me and stretched out against me for quite some time.  It was nice to know that in her own way she felt reassured having me close by.  Believe me when I say there are other members of my family that prefer a certain distance from me when they aren’t feeling well, so it could have gone either way with Fudge.  I certainly don’t expect Fudge to change her independent ways, or my daughter either, but it is sure nice to know that from time to time they like having me around.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Thanks, Anne!

Bonnie, Thank you! I didn't hear anything like that coming from my SIL, but maybe I misunderstood :) LOL

[Bonnie and Kona]

I love Fudge the flying ball catcher!
I think your DSIL was saying, "Let's move back to PA. I miss your wonderful family!"

[Anne & Mr. Haley]

Great blog, Laurie. I abolutely LOVE the shot of Fudge!