Treasures By The Pound

I received the paragraph below in an e-mail from a family friend of ours and was hoping that all of you who read this would help her out.

I have a favor to ask. Would you consider going to this site -- http://myfoxcleveland.cityvoter.com/contests/akroncanton-hot-list -- and voting, in the pet supplies category, for Treasures by the Pound? You may have to register with the site, but that's free and carries no obligation. Your vote gives our little boutique, which benefits the Wayne Co. Humane Society, the chance to win advertising money, and it also helps get our name out there. Your effort could really help us in our struggle to stay afloat.

When we were in Wooster for Christmas we made sure to stop by and visit, so that she and her hubby could meet Brynn!! (They're patiently waiting for some grandkids of their own!!) We were hoping to see Amy and Jill but they had already headed home to California by the time we had a chance to make it over there!! Marilyn and Jim have one of the neatest houses ever... they took their old barn and converted it into a house. Here are a few pictures from our quick visit with them at Christmas!!







P.S. Marilyn... had to post a picture with your favorite dog EVER in it!! ;o) JUST KIDDING!!! To everyone else, Marilyn has a column called "Piece of Mind" in Wooster's "Daily Record" newspaper on Sundays. This is a copy of a recent article about their dog pictured above... (I completely understand what she's talking about, I have owned a Jack Russell before and will NEVER EVER own one again. He was a pain in the ass, mean dog.)

Oh, I get it. First I was the Doyle clan's baby girl. Then I was the vet's wife. And now I am -- are you kidding? -- the JACK RUSSELL LADY?? For only four months, I've owned this dog and suddenly I'm the Jack Russell Lady after more than a half-century of striving to attain my own identity?

I don't even LIKE the stupid dog.

That's a lie. But I reserve the right to use a bit of poetic license here, if it serves my purposes. The fact that I love this pup doesn't alter the truth that he's brought on more anxiety, sleep deprivation and cloudy- mindedness than all three of my kids did when they were babies. Love hurts, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Besides, it's my husband who owns him. I refuse to accept the blame.

Yet everywhere I go, everyone I see comes up to me and asks either, "Aren't you the Jack Russell Lady" -- or -- "How's it going with your Jack Russell?" Whatever happened to "Hi. How are ya?"

Let me give you a little advice. If you're a reasonable, pet-loving person who has gently transitioned into your mature years with docile, intelligent, people-pleasing dogs that would never dream of, say, waking you up in the morning by jumping on your face and inserting his toenails into your eye socket or using some kind of mysterious psychokinetic power to draw an elastic exercise band off the dresser into his adjacent crate and chewing it into thousands of rubbery little snowflakes, do not, I repeat, DO NOT get a Jack Russell puppy.

Forgive the run-on; I'm a bit overwrought.

You read me right. The woman who can never seem to get enough "fur therapy" has just about maxed out on this spazzy little Brillo pad that's rubbing my nerve endings raw.

I hold out hope it builds character, but I'm thinking it's a stretch to link this to self-improvement.

I figure the race is on. He's nine months old now and most normal dogs calm down a bit when they reach maturity. Neutering is supposed to help too, so by golly, we took care of that little matter tout de suite. So, the deal is -- will he grow up before I lose my mind or vice versa?

And allow me to say at this point, no one -- not even a lifelong Jack Russell owner -- has indicated that these guys EVER grow up. So there's a lot of ungrounded faith and pie-eyed optimism on my part.

Why? Because I have no choice. My husband, my Prince Charming of 30-plus years, is absolutely crazy about this dog. That's why I'm hanging in there, although sometimes I get the impression he's just holding out until I'm absolutely crazy, too.

He probably doesn't have long to wait. I mean, he's the one who coined the phrase, "This is like living in a pinball machine."

But when that dog is around, there's a smile on Jim's face. In fact, most of the time he's laughing. So in good conscience, how can I continue to resent something that brings such joy to the person I love most in this world?

BECAUSE I AM COVERED WITH BRUISES, MY STUFF IS COVERED WITH LITTLE TEETH MARKS, AND I'VE FOUND MYSELF UNCONSCIOUSLY DRAWN INTO THE FETAL POSITION IN A CORNER SEVERAL TIMES RECENTLY.

But don't worry about me. I'll carry on. If it doesn't build character, at least it's a free class in self-defense techniques. That is, if you don't count the cost in material loss.

I wonder if there's insurance available for Jack-Russell damage. Seems like a natural disaster to me.