Welcome to my kitchen

A while ago, I realized I was serious enough about bread baking to stop diddling around with the 3-packs of yeast from the grocery store, or even the small jars for a small fortune. So I pulled up my big girl pants, and ordered "A Pound Of Yeast". It's in my freezer, and I use it regularly, and I guess that makes me "A Baker". Even though I always said "I can't bake". So, join me on my journey, and let's see what that pound of yeast makes, and where we go next....

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Happy “Birth-A-Versary” Rosie !!

Permit me a small digression (which God knows, I NEVER do….) from your normally scheduled food-centric blog, to celebrate a most momentous day in my life.

Five years ago, today, on July 17, 2006, Princess Rosie came to her Forever Home, and entered the world (and heart) of her Mazziedog (that’d be me).

So, since I don’t know when the Princess was actually born, we’re calling it a “Birth-A-Versary” because it’s a combination BIRTHday and anniVERSARY for the Princess Rosie Dog.

I found her at the Long Beach, California animal shelter, operated jointly by the City of Long Beach and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, Los Angeles (SpcaLA).  You’ll see a link to their website off to the right.  They do good work.

I was mourning the loss of my 14-year old black miniature poodle, Ella.  Who was a DIVA in every sense of the word.   I once had a friend who called her “Ella Fitzpoodle”, which was absolutely appropriate, since she was named for Ella Fitzgerald.  You could totally imagine my Ella in a sequined gown, hogging the spotlight.  I desperately needed another doggie soul to love and cherish and coddle.  And I found Princess Rosie.

Or rather…..she found me.  I seriously tried to walk away from her 3 times.  Literally had my hand on the front door of the building, but she kept pulling me back to see her again.  Part of the problem was that the shelter staff had pegged her as being 4 years old, and I’d wanted a younger dog.  But, after meeting her, I realized there was no way she was that old.  She was MAYBE, maybe, two at the most.  It was, as they say, a match made in Heaven.  Eventually.

She WAS initially very standoffish….didn’t seem too interested in me at all.  I was a little, well, disappointed.  But after knowing her, I came to realize it was because she is SO completely focused on HER PERSON.  She had totally bonded with the shelter’s staff.  She had no use for me, other than as another interesting person passing through her life.  She KNEW the staff, and they were HER PEOPLE.  Not this big ol’ stranger.  Probably had a lot to do with why no one else wanted her.

She’d been in the shelter for almost 2 months.  Picked up as a stray, they held her for 10 days waiting for someone to claim her.  No one did.  Then they put her up for adoption, and for 6 weeks no one wanted this sweet, gentle little girl.

Or maybe….just maybe….karma was saving her for me.  I like to think that’s what happened.

The staff brought her out into a little play area for me to meet her, and she basically spent the whole time trying to charm the volunteer.  But then, I sat down on the grass, and she loped over and buried her head in my lap, and then flopped over on her back, and gave me her tummy to rub.

Well, I was smitten.  I signed the papers post haste, and she was sent off the next day to be spayed.  The following day, a Monday, I picked her up from the animal hospital after I got off work.  She was ecstatic to see me again, and seemed to know that something good was happening.  I gently settled her into the passenger seat of my car (she had an owie tum-tum after all), and kept talking to her and stroking her head as I drove the 5 or so miles home.  When we got there, she sort of looked around, and I swear I saw her smile.  She seemed to look me in the eyes and say “I’m safe now, aren’t I ?  I’m home.”

And so she was.  My regal, prissy, prim, *good girl* (with a deep, deep mischievous streak, Rosie stay OUT of the trash and leave the drapes alone), Princess Rosie.

And was she, in fact, younger than what the shelter thought? Yep, I'm pretty sure she was no more than two, maybe even younger. About 6 months after I brought her home, my soul friend Judi visited with her husband and her then 9-year old granddaughter. Who took one look at Rosie tearing around the house and yard at warp speed, tossing stuffed squeeekie toys in her wake and very, very seriously announced "Rosie's had too much sugar !" What was that line about the mouths of babes....?

I honestly don’t know who saved whom.  I think it’s a toss-up.  I’ve had dogs all my life, starting when I was about 5 or so.  I’ve never had a dog that loves me as completely as Rosie does.  It’s a constant amazement to me.  And I try, every day, to live up to that total devotion, and be the person she thinks I am.

I get to rub that tummy a lot now.  Because now *I’M* her person.  She’s Mazzie’s little sucky, clingy dog, and that’s how we both like it.  She’s friendly, she likes to meet new people, and she’ll charm the socks off of you, but she’s definitely Mazzie’s girl, and after you’ve ruffled her ears, and scratched her chin, she comes straight back over and lays on my feet.  I’m her person.  And she’s my Princess.

She even puts up with me when I do this to her:

Or this:

And she tolerates Lulu The Goober, even when Lulu decides Rosie’s her new favorite chewie toy.

Thanks for putting up with this brief digression from food.  But all y’all need to know what’s important to me, and Rosie certainly is.  Supremely.

And don’t worry.  There’ll be another one of these in September when The Goober has HER Birth-A-Versary.

We now return you to Foodie Central, direct from the little kitchen !

Oh, and by the way.  When I went to save this in Word, the default file name that came up was “Happy”.  Which I thought, was completely appropriate.  Because I certainly am, happy that is, and I know Princess Rosie is too.

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