Last night, I dreamed I went to Manderley again...*

No, that’s not quite right…I actually dreamed of puppies.

Now where do you suppose that came from?

It all started out backstage at some musical and I was in charge of making navy blue pants and handing them out. So I get my pants organized and there I am flinging pants at people who are asking what the pants are for to which I reply I have no idea, I was just told to make the pants. There is massive pant confusion and men trading pants with each other and giggling (yeah, that’s right).

All of a sudden this woman walks in and orders me to make a white shirt (very uncreative costuming for this musical, I have to say) for the production that has already begun. And, by the way, she says, it has to make the wearer fly – no strings allowed. I tell her I can’t defy gravity in a half hour. She starts arguing with the guys about the pants, so I leave to check on the puppies at home (knew we’d get there eventually).

So I go home and my friends, wine mentors and Knowers-of-where-all-my-stuff-is-including-the-blue-plate April and Steve, have been watching the puppies. Steve complains to April that he’d offered me a glass of wine and I wouldn’t take it (in reality, I am limiting myself to one drink a week since I’ve noticed alcohol really messes with my blood sugar).

Then I go to check on the puppies and all is well there and Zsa Zsa is compliantly nursing them, which is how I know this is a dream and not reality. I leave the room and am greeted by a Cocker Spaniel.

Now this is where Dirtman’s behavior since the birth of the puppies comes into play. In order to appreciate the following, you have to understand that he is only a dog person by marriage. He didn’t grow up with dogs and didn’t want a dog when we got married. It took awhile for me to convince him that having one dog does not a dog person make. He has been tolerant and helpful and very, very understanding over the years, but you could never call him enthusiastic about dogs.

Since the puppies were born, Dirtman has become an all-out fanatic. He documents the puppies’ weight on a little chart. He picks each and every one up and cuddles them. He makes plans for all the things he and Hokie are going to do as soon as he’s weaned. They’re going to go to work together; he’s going to show him in the ring; he’s going to train him for rally.

So – back to the dream – I ask Dirtman (who is suddenly there and April and Steve are not) where the Cocker Spaniel came from and suddenly see a Brittany Spaniel there with her puppies. Dirtman is telling me about how he’s collected all these dogs with their puppies when I notice a Schnauzer whose puppy is a Wired Hair Fox Terrier (it’s a dream…work with me here).

I look out the back door and the yard is full of nursing puppies: a Golden Retriever litter, a German Shepherd Dog litter; lots and lots of Aussies.

I note that there are no Bernese Mountain Dogs (since Cindy, the Provider of the Whelping Box of the Big Dog Head, is whelping her Berner litter at the same time we are whelping Zsa Zsa’s litter) because, I point out, everyone I know has a Bernese Mountain Dog (actually, only Cindy and the owner of Blue Ribbon Acres Kennel, Jen).

Strangely, Dirtman has no answer to this.

I woke up in a euphoric state, having realized my dream of making Dirtman as caninely obsessive as myself.

By the way, I was awakened at that moment by Topper, who knows how to open doors (he’s like the raptors in Jurassic Park) and chose 4:45 a.m. to open the bedroom door and let himself out into the yard where he proceeded to bark at nothing, a skill I’m sure he can’t wait to pass onto his nieces and nephews.

*Famous opening line from Rebecca.

Okay...one more...

Zsa Zsa's new nursing position:



I'm really trying to stop...

The following entry is specifically to annoy Dark Garden...

Yook at da 'ittle puppies! Ooooooohhhhhhhhh, DA PUPPIES. Yuv da puppies! Unca John wuv da 'ittle puppies? YES! Unca John wuv da puppies! Woogie, woogie, Puppies!

Editor's Note: Yeah, we did it again. There's not much else to do around here...

Zsa Zsa is equally annoyed.

Had enough of the puppies yet?

Photos of Zsa Zsa's puppies are on Flicker, for interested parties.

For those not interested, we will return to our regularly scheduled blogging as soon as the novelty wears off. The editorial staff apologizes for the decidedly canine atmosphere of Linguini, which we thought we'd managed to eradicate with the publication of Zsa Zsa's blog. But, just like puppies, sooner or later you just can't contain 'em.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

Litter Linguini

And now we present Eight Reasons We Did Not Go On Vacation This Year.

They may not look like much now, but a boat load of careful decision-making went into these eight gerbil-like creatures. Our decision to breed Zsa Zsa to Que is not half as important as both dogs’ impressive pedigrees representing decades of decisions made by breeders with vastly more knowledge than I have.

Zsa Zsa, frankly, couldn’t care less. She wants to know how, exactly, this happened and who she needs to see about fixing this infestation problem.

The puppies are now three days old and Ms. Zsas is bored with them. She jumps out of her whelping box constantly and waits at the dining room door every time someone enters the kitchen. Then it’s, “Hell with the kids. I smell poultry.”

We let her out a little bit and she potties, begs for more food (we’ve already doubled her feed), drinks a bit, then suddenly gets a look as though she forgot something, but she can’t quite remember what it is.

We remind her she has puppies to tend to and she looks all put out and annoyed, but goes back to her kids with about as much enthusiasm as any woman would have if they had just given birth to octuplets.

Oh, she sticks with it long enough to shut them up, but she also lets us know of her martyrdom. See? She’s picking up on this motherhood thing really well!

Today the puppies get their tales docked and dew claw clipped, so it may be a bumpy night for everyone involved. Four of the brood, who are going to Europe (I think it really stinks that my puppies travel more than I do…), will keep long tails. The rest will have the usual Aussie wiggle-butts.

See the black tri with the black ric-rac and the red tri? They were born on Dirtman’s lap. Next time you see him, ask him about it. He’ll be telling this story over and over for the next few years. Come to think of it, you probably won’t have to bother with the asking part.

So now you know what we’ve been doing around here lately instead of eating. And writing…