Bella’s Story: Memoirs of a Princess #11

A certain princess is 9 today.

It’s hard to believe that time has flown so quickly.  It seems like it was just a few months ago when I brought the princess home from the doggie daycare center.  At the time, I had a catahoula named Stella.


If you know anything about catahoulas, you’ll know that they need to RUN.  Since RUNNING really isn’t in my vocabulary and I was working crazy hours, I found a doggie daycare center to take Stella to 3 times a week.

On one particular day in February, I noticed a beautiful yellow Labrador puppy hanging out in the front room and didn’t think anything more about her until Stella’s next trip to DDC.  As I was picking her up that evening, the head vet tech causally mentioned Bella (the aforementioned lab puppy)  had been “living” at DDC.  Apparently her owner was living with his grandmother when he bought her.  When he moved out, he promised to be back for the puppy and 6 months later Grandma realized that (at 85) she could not take care of a–albeit sweet–very rambunctious lab puppy.  She didn’t have the heart to take her to the pound and the SPCA center was full, but they suggested bringing her to DDC since obviously it was filled with dog lovers.

Of course, anyone who met Bella fell in love with her immediately.  There wasn’t any room to keep her at DDC overnight, so the staff were taking turns taking her home for a night or two. They knew it couldn’t continue and that’s where I came in.

The only dog here who can keep up with and is willing to play with her all day long is Stella….so….would I consider adopting Bella?

I was stunned.  I mean, she looked sweet but I lived in a small apartment and it’s one thing playing all day in a neutral environment the size of a football field–it is something completely different at a home the size of a postage stamp. Plus she’s a LABRADOR PUPPY.  Everyone knows how sweet, cuddly…and destructive they are!  A LABRADOR PUPPY!

However, one look at Bella and it was so hard to say no.  Between the pleading looks of all the vet techs that were now congregating around hoping to find a forever home for Bella and the pleading-please-love-me looks of Bella, I finally relented–on two conditions:  1. that Stella was okay with Bella at home and 2.  I could change her name because yelling –ella and having nearly 150lbs of pupcicle running towards me did not seem like a wise life choice.

Stella was excited that Bella was coming home with us….right up until she realized that it wasn’t just a visit.  It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, but I knew the second I got her home she was…home.

Happy Birthday my sweet Darling Princess Adelaide Grace!

Nine years is a long time to collect a ton of photos (even if your pupcicle is camera shy!)–but here are a couple hundred of my faves!!  Just kidding….sort of…


Memoirs of a Princess: Cue Jaws Theme

Being a Big Dog in a Big City, Addy gets a wide variety of reactions when we are out and about.  It’s usually fear.  Mostly people try to disguise it, usually pretending there is a reason to suddenly cross the street.  Sometimes, it’s blatantly obvious.

The other day on our morning walk, the princess and I were following a lady.  And by follow, I mean we were walking in the same direction as someone else who was in front of us.

While Addy is allowed to wander on our walks, I was keeping her close enough that there was still a several foot gap between Addy and the lady we were following.  And yet, two full blocks of our walk was spent with me making sure there was an appropriate Addy/lady gap, Addy happily checking out all the smells along the sidewalk, and the lady–well, the lady was apparently waiting for an attack because her cadence upon noticing Addy quickly became: step, step, hesitation, look back at Addy, step, step, hesitation, look back at Addy, step, step.

just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water walk down the sidewalk…

da dum….da dum….da-dum, da-dum, da-dum…


Naptime: Memoirs of A Princess #7

Sweet Jesus: Memoirs of a Princess #6

Being a Big Dog in a Big City, Addy gets a wide variety of reactions when we are out and about.  It’s usually fear.  Mostly people try to disguise it, usually pretending there is a reason to suddenly cross the street.  Sometimes, it’s blatantly obvious.

Several years ago I worked for a shall-not-to-be-named coffee company.  During this time, I was usually up and walking Addy at 2am.  This, of course, was just in time to run into everyone in the neighborhood who caught the 1:30am ferry.  Most were just getting home after a long day’s work.  Others were not so quietly coming home from a great night out.

It was while following a group of people in the latter category that one of the women in the group, who apparently has a GREAT night out, glanced back at Addy and me.  When she saw Addy she let forth a blood-curdling scream and promptly fell over, off the sidewalk into the street [don’t worry, there wasn’t any traffic].

My first inclination is to offer assistance, as her friends were too busy laughing to help, but of course, I quickly realized Addy was the problem.

I’m down, I’m down! Oh sweet Jeeeeesus, I’m ready to come home.  I’m ready sweet Jesus.

Ma’am are okay?  Can I help you up?

I’m ready to go home, Sweet Jesus just take me now and don’t make it too painful.

MA’AM [more laughter from behind me] DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING UP?

I wasn’t yelling, per se, merely speaking very clearly and very loudly because at this point I could smell the alcohol coming off her body.

She stopped her rant mid-Jesus and looked at me, slightly confused.

You mean he ain’t gonna eat me?

No, ma’am, she’s not.

Oh, well, then I’m good.

She then popped up and kept right on trucking, uh, wobbling.


Doughnuts: Memoirs of a Princess #5

Being a Big Dog in a Big City, Addy gets a wide variety of reactions when we are out and about.  It’s usually fear.  Mostly people try to disguise it, usually pretending there is a reason to suddenly cross the street.  Sometimes, it’s blatantly obvious.

I’m always mildly shocked when people, especially kids, in the neighborhood are eager to meet and pet Addy.  Today we met a nice family whose kids LOOOOOOVED petting Addy, all the while commenting how nice and friendly and sweet she was.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that while she loved the attention, really she just was hoping they were going to share their doughnuts.


Lipstick Kisses: Memoirs of a Princess #4

Addy has never had her colors done, but I think red is by far her best color.  And what better adornment than a lipstick kiss smack (pun intended!) dab in the middle of her forehead?  It is a classic symbol of a well-loved pupcicle (not to mention a momma’s love of red lipstick!).

Estée Lauder has never had such a cute lipstick model!

"I agreed to take ONE photo, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

“I agreed to take ONE photo, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!”

Memoirs of a Princess

I’m sitting in bed with my laptop, silently urging writing ideas to come.

Suddenly I am aware of soft snoring from the end of the bed.  I look up and there is a cute 90lb ball of fur.  I can’t resist.  Slowly, ever…so…slowly I reach for my phone.  I quietly scroll the camera icon upward.

Don’t you dare take my picture.

Sigh.  Why not?  You’re so cute and I love you and I want a picture of you looking cute.

You already have 8390 of them and you’re supposed to be writing, not procrastinating.

I don’t have 8390 of them and I’m not procrastinating, I’m searching for inspiration.

You could write about me.  8390 articles would be far better than 8390 out-of-focus photographs.

I could write about you, however, you don’t like to have your picture taken.  In order for a post to be successful, you need at least a picture or two.  At last count, I believe you didn’t like having your picture taken.  In fact, I believe that you hate it.

I think you’re making that up about pictures and posts.  Tell you what: if you write my memoirs, I suppose I could make an exception.

Your memoirs?  Really?  That’s a big word.

Yeah, well, I’m a big dog and I’m 8 now–don’t think I don’t know that you give me senior food and senior vitamins.  If you tell my story, I’ll let you take a picture of me.

A picture?  As in just one?

We’ll see how good your stories are.


Day 94

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