Bonjour. My name is Rudy and I am the newest member of the Cupcake Family. I weigh in at a spritely ten pounds and I do a little tribal circle dance when I’m about to take a doodie. My new mom tells me not to bother about this—she’s used to my big brother’s traveling doodie ritual so, you know, no harm, no foul.
Rumor has it that I was unthinkably dumped by my previous humans in an area that is known for dogs being abandoned. I scraped and scurried and survived my way through that god-awful experience until I was rescued and put into foster care. My mom says it was my particular brand of Rudy-tude that gave me the strength to prevail and still be the love bug that I am. I say she may be right, however, it should be noted that I am a humble gentleman who only wants to be safe and sound with my new bitchen family.
Speaking of bitchen, my new big brother Cooper is currently showing me the ropes. How to perfect the ultimate snuggle with the zillions of blankets that our parents provide, how to pepper the afternoon with various shouts and high-pitched hollers while our mom shouts at us to shut our furry gobs. Sometimes we think she may be joining in on the fun but my big brother tells me this is no bueno—when she puts her hand out like a traffic cop and says something like “SHUSH!” or “HEY!” Even though she seems confused we still love her.
I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of me here, as I have already made quite a glorious impact on the Cupcake Homestead, prancing like a model horse on all the walks we take and sniffing every square inch of the neighborhood I have the pleasure of exploring with my new family.
Rudy of the Radical Tudeness
In my darkest, tangly places I forget about the light. I forget that life is fluid, not stagnant. I forget that all my learning has garnered sweet wisdom. And I forget to raise my head and heart up, in order to find my way forward.
There’s a certain solace I’ve found in the forgetting. There’s a certain cozy ebb and flow I’ve discovered in the familiarity of doubt and shame. The way I linger, floating in that place that keeps me tethered to fear and the far-off, downward stories I tell myself.
But the coziness eventually turns to restlessness and that part of me that forgets that I can recognize my own shadow cast from the sun taps me on the shoulder and reminds me that there are moments in the morning when I’ve never felt more content and there are certain minutes of the day when the light streams in through the window that casts a dazzling sheen across the entire room and my dreams and plans and schemes are things of beauty and all of the forgetting is something to be grateful for because diving in to the forgetting is the only way to remind myself of what is really true.
Rita the Ruminator
Sometimes on Saturday, after a wildly successful early morning jaunt around the neighborhood involving our favorite regulars, we like to express our joy and pride with our self-satisfied smile, because we know that when we don’t lunge and growl like a lunatic at the innocent pups that cross our path, it makes our mom very happy.
Have a Nice Day,
908. Dormant volcanoes that erupt
910. The uppity attitude of poodles