“Marley & Me”

This may come as a shock to frequent readers considering how much I blog about my canine companions, but I have very little tolerance for “dog movies.” Generally, I find them completely annoying for their total failure at realistic portrayal of how dogs behave. Or, worse yet, their showcase of inept dog owners. When I first saw the television spots advertising John Grogan’s novel becoming a movie, I was never more surprised at myself at the realization that I desperately wanted to see this. Among the many books I’ve devoured over the years on all aspects of dogs — and pet ownership in general — Marley & Me is one of a small handful that I deeply enjoy due to the poignant story and unfiltered, heartfelt portrayal of life with a new and often boisterous dog.

While not exactly following the book, the film manages to maintain both of those things I enjoyed so deeply. And much like the book, it’s less a story about a dog than an engrossing memoir about a family with a crazy dog. I was very impressed with Aniston and Wilson and thought they had wonderful chemistry together. And while translated differently a lot of my favorite moments from the book made their way into the film.

The one thing that I was very taken with was the realistic portrayal of Marley’s life, especially towards the end. There are certainly sad films about dogs out there, but none that give a real picture of what an aging dog is like. Grogan’s description in the book is showcased quite vividly, albeit in a very small portion of the movie’s running time. And I have to disagree with the people who’ve found the ending scenes to be a way of merely forcing the viewer to shed some tears. They’re pretty much straight out of the book and I while I’ve never yet been present during the times dogs in my life have been put down I can easily imagine the sadness and pain is captured quite adequately and realistically.

I was disappointed by a few things, however. Specifically, I was a bit dismayed at the complete lack of showcasing how Marley was endearing. As I said before, the film is accurate to the book in not solely focusing on Marley, even though all the advertising I saw for it did seem to make the opposite seem true. But Grogan makes several references in his book to how loyal Marley was, how he was a comfort during the couple’s miscarriage, how gentle he was with children, and most importantly how his misdeeds were never maliciously intended. Marley was certainly not the epitome of well-behaved, but he did have a joie de vivre with which he approached all aspects of his life. I was pleased to see Grogan’s messages retained in the film, that a dog should be considered part of the family — not a disposable item. But it’s hard to see the justification conveyed in the film.

Still, the one single thing that stands out for me is the underlying message of how much sharing a life with a dog can teach you about life. I’ve tried to put similar thoughts into words many times when explaining to others how it is to work with a guide dog or even have a longtime pet and it’s practically impossible to get a person foreign to the concept to fully understand. But if there’s one thing that all of the dogs I’ve had the privilege to share my life with have made abundantly clear, it is that life is worth living no matter your age and to take joy in the simple things it brings you.

In short, I found the film just as charming as the book. And I’ll readily admit that is a rare thing.

Nail Drama

Sarah and I braved the downpour for dinner at The Cheesecake Factory last night. It was, obviously, delicious and the portions completely defeated us. We didn’t have the girls play beforehand, as we usually do, but they were still very well-behaved during the meal. Fay did her usual badger Yara to play thing, but gave up fairly quickly. Yara is always so amusing in these instances, her face completely reads, “Oh, my God, get that puppy away from me! Can’t you see I’m trying to work?”

After we finished, I made a quick stop at CVS for a few things and then we headed back to my apartment. We dried everyone off, including ourselves, as best we could and unleashed the dogs for some playtime.

Because for whatever reason, Sarah is the only person Yara doesn’t make a fuss with when having her nails cut, she’s been gracious enough to cut Yara’s nails when she’s around, if needed. I’d mentioned to her that Yara may need a trim since she’s been gnawing on them relentlessly for a week. So, while I changed into dry clothes, Sarah busied herself with that task. From the other room, I heard a sharp yelp, and not soon after Sarah made the proclamation that she’d nicked Yara’s quick for the first time, but she managed to finish the trimming without much hassle. Emerging from my bedroom, I told her where an open box of baking soda was and we herded Yara, dribbling blood, into the kitchen to stem the flow of blood. It was then that we noticed that she was practically gushing blood from her other paw and Sarah was quite shocked given she’d barely trimmed the nail that was bleeding on that foot. But since Yara’s a notorious nail chewer, we surmised she’d really gotten that one down.

Anyway, after we finally got her all clotted up, my kitchen looked like a murder scene had occurred there. The living room had a few drips and smears of blood, too, but the kitchen floor was pretty much covered. We cleaned up quickly and warily let the dogs play again. Yara didn’t seem fazed by any of this. In fact, Sarah was more upset at the bleeding than the dog, who whined incessantly as she worked to clot the wound, while simultaneously beating her tail on the kitchen door.

As we sat and chatted, though, I noticed there was some more blood on the floor. We checked Yara’s foot, and tried to apply more baking soda on the off chance she had reopened the clot, and watched with bewilderment as Yara proceeded to lick off blood and baking soda from the floor and on her foot. We repeated this maybe a half dozen times before I scrutinized the foot in question and realized it was caked in blood. Since Yara was continually stopping to lick it, the blood was staying wet and thus dripping off and/or being smeared all over the place.

Sarah and Fay left shortly after this and I relegated Yara to her bed. I checked her foot a few more times over the next two hours, before turning into bed myself, and she seemed fine. I wanted to wash it, but decided I’d wait until this morning just in case I caused the wound to bleed. Much to my surprise, Yara beat me to it and had licked her foot completely spotless by the time I was prepared with a damp cloth. Her bed, however, has the looks of a horror film.

Never a dull moment around here. :-)

Happenings

Yara and Fay posing by the statue in front of the Book House

  • Yara has been fluctuating between eating and not eating. Her stool has gone from fine in texture and color to a mixture yellow turds and ploppy diarrhea and back again. She’s such a stubborn brat, I wish I could explain to her that the eating thing helps with the whole deification thing.
  • Bought a literal stack of new books last week. Am happy to announce that my grandparents have acquired “several” book shelves. The less awesome news is that they don’t know when (a.) they will physically possess said shelves and (b.) when in turn they can cart them here to Albany. Still, it’s nice to know I don’t need to curtail my book buying due to lack of shelf space.

Yara and Fay at the fountain near the Spa

  • Took a trip with Sarah and Fay to Stuyvesant Plaza. Had dinner at Peaches. (Shocking, I know.) And got some rather cute shots of the girls in front of the Book House and Jean Paul’s Spa.
  • Also got my hair done and it is seriously adorable.
  • Gave into lack of willpower and bought myself awesome new strappy sandals. Yes, plural, as in two pairs. They were completely worth it. I regret nothing.
  • Finally got my new computer! Hooked it up this morning and am typing this very post on it. Still have to finish setting up and installing all the odds and ends, but am so happy to have a PC that I’m not fearful will crash any moment or fight to get to start up. Am not remotely used to the ginormous widescreen monitor, though.

Ups and Downs

Wow, ten days since my last update. How did that happen? Well, I wish I had a bunch of awesome things upon which to gush about here or even something somewhat witty to blog. Alas, I don’t. Truth be told, I’ve been in a bit of a funk the last few weeks and only just seem to be pulling out of it. Which is rather ironic given that today I received some very unsettling news that I’d rather not share in this venue . . . at least not right now.

On the brighter side of things, though, I had a lovely time at Dad’s this passed weekend. Saw Nanny and Poppy, who confirmed the acquisition of several new shelves for me and my ever-growing pile of books. Had lobster and it was fantastic. Also had fresh strawberry shortcake which was quite delicious.

Dolly is doing somewhat better. Her hair is falling out like crazy and the running theory is that her Synthroid needs to adjusted. But it’s also shedding season and she was shaved due to that funky skin thing, so that might be part of it, too. The funky skin thing finally cleared up at least. She’s still not much for playing with her toys or anything, but she did try to romp around with Yara a bit in the backyard. But she’s not as young as she sometimes thinks she is and her arthritic back legs just wouldn’t allow for much of that. Yara spent the weekend whining. And shedding. But she did eat pretty well, so that’s not nothing.

Just the Facts, Please

The desire I have to rant and rave about this is greater than the heat of a thousand burning suns. And it is because of this that instead I will merely relay the facts, further pontificating on the subject may come later. But it’s also just as likely that I’ll cool off and cease caring. Time will only tell.

Today, like any other, I took the bus home from work. Having done this routine more times than can possibly be counted, Yara has her own method when it comes too taking a seat. While I position my rear on an available seat, she stops about two steps behind me so that she can move in the moment I am seated to position herself out of the way. When she did this today, she was standing in front of another passenger on the bus, who swatted her several times on the rear end. I witnessed this shocking event with mouth agape. No one on the bus said a thing, but I did screech “excuse me” to the swatter. She ignored me.

Words? At the moment, I have none.