30 Things My Dog Probably Says About Me Behind My Back

That is, if she could talk.


Jernee: aka, The Boss; aka, J-Nasty; aka, Jern-Jern; aka The Princess; aka, The Little Monster, etc. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Pet owners: I’m pretty sure you have your very own thirty things and we’d probably swap stories and laugh hysterically about the ways of our non-human friends/family. Feel free to share a few in the comments if you want to.

  1. Human . . . I expect dinner promptly at 5:30 pm, there should be no deviation from this plan.
  2. That place that you go to every day in the morning and come back much later in the day, what shall I call it?
  3. While you were gone, I ate the crumbs on the floor you thought you brushed “off” the counter and into the cleaning cloth.
  4. Remember that one time you asked me if I liked the new grain-free food you bought me?! Do you recall my reaction, how I dove into the bowl as if I’d not eaten before? Well, I faked it.
  5. There’s this thing that rings loudly while you’re away. How can we make that not happen?
  6. Every time Nana visits, she sits in my favorite spot on the couch. I don’t like that.
  7. Why does she have to visit us anyway? Don’t you visit her enough now?
  8. I think you should warn me about bath-time, preferably a week in advance. I need time to evade this entire process.
  9. I’m not religious. You know that, right? God or mercy or hallelujah should never be in our discussions. I’m just sayin’.
  10. What’s this thing about “voting” I keep hearing on the radio? Is this something you’re going to do?
  11. If you are, will they pay you for it? I need more treats. Prioritize. Monetize this vote thing. Treats are important.
  12. Okay. You’ve seen Shrek 378 times already. That’s enough.
  13. The same goes for Finding Nemo.
  14. Auntie hasn’t been here in a while, neither has Nala. Did I do something? Did YOU do something? It’s always you. Yes, let’s go with that. Did you do something, human?
  15. You like to tell me not to drool on the couch, but please recognize how that’s not working out for you. Do I tell you not to drool on your pillows?
  16. Crushed ice is my favorite snack. More crushed ice, please.
  17. It’s been a while since we’ve had a daddy or another mommy around. What’s the holdup, human?
  18. I mean, I’m trying to gather all the attention I can. Are you keeping this from happening?
  19. The Vet . . . That’s one place I’d like not to go to anymore.
  20. If there’s any way we can make that happen, I’ll be happy about it. Tell them I’m good — we shouldn’t have to pay for pre and post-excellence. Let’s face it, I’m both. Save your money.
  21. Think of the treats.
  22. When you say things to me and you think I don’t understand what you’re saying, I’ve news for you, I do. I’m just ignoring you.
  23. Do we have new neighbors? I hear strange noises while you’re away.
  24. What’s with the burning of all the candles? And the sage?
  25. It’s been 5 minutes since you rubbed my belly or scratched behind my ears. Let’s change that.
  26. I’m not eating my food because I noticed yours smells much better.
  27. Yes, that’s right . . . Pick up my poop! Good human.
  28. No, I don’t like this taking pictures of me all the time thing. Stop it.
  29. When you take my collar off, it’s like you’re removing a piece of me. My identity shifts. How’d you like to have your identity shifted?
  30. NO, I WILL NOT STOP BARKING AT THE NEIGHBOR’S DOG! I’M PROTECTING US!

Bonus: I really do love you. That, I’m not faking.


Originally published in P. S. I Love You via Medium.

gifts and blessings #3

Our trip to Asheville was such a welcome reprieve for both myself and my mother. We had such a lovely time and I was saddened to see the morning come as it ushered in our check-out date quicker than we expected. Although we only spent one day there, we were able to view some great sights, spend a bit of time with my friend E, walk Jernee and keep her entertained, and enjoy some great food as well. Here are a few pictures:

Steps leading up to the brewery across the street from where we stayed. Asheville, NC.
A creek along the trail near the brewery where we all walked on Sunday afternoon. Asheville, NC.
The river along the trail across the street from where we were staying. Asheville, NC.
A second shot of the same river. Asheville, NC.
The Buttermilk Chicken Plate (w/ gravy and two sides|fried) from Homegrown North. Asheville, NC.
Jernee, my happy Little Monster, sitting on the couch in our room. Asheville, NC.

As you can see, we had ourselves a mighty fine time. I intend to go back soon and Jernee will be in tow.


On the drive back to my neck of the woods for North Carolina, I received the call from the HR Rep/Recruiter who discussed the compensation (I’ll be making slightly more) and the end and start dates for my transfer. I am both content and relieved to have this hiring/transfer process complete. My last day with the facility (my current job) will be on Friday, November 6, 2020, and my start date with the Central Scheduling Department will be on Monday, November 09, 2020.

I can breathe a lot easier now and I will be more than happy when my last day comes. I am patient. I have been patient. And, I will end my last days there on the same scale I am on now–going above and beyond.

Thank you to everyone for the well-wishes!

The little things that make me smile . . .

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Praying Mantis, praying–perhaps?

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Jernee: she finally let me brush her hair so that I could take a decent picture of her.

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Oh, dear . . . a deer.

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My copy of Kristin Garth’s latest book of sonnets.

Sometimes, all I need are the small reminders in life to let me know I’m still living and grateful to be alive. Sometimes . . . this is what I love most about living–the little things.

she is inclined to love me forever

Jernee, giving me the stare down.

my four-legged love sits
at the top of my chair
wasting her old breaths
in my ears.
this spoiled, ageless baby
encourages me, loves me, likes me . . .
keeps my sanity where it should be.

I listen to her low-growl
at the neighbor’s kids while
they play tag outside our window.
she steadies every opposition
with a calculated pace.
they hear her and look up.
the day’s shenanigans will
wait until tomorrow.

she slides down to
the seat of the chair,
buries her cold nose
into the warm cushion,
and waits for me to nod
in approval.
I look up from my book
and smile a welcoming smile.

“Good girl.”
she sleeps for three hours