Dear Faithful Readers:

I’m giving Crone and Bear It a break.  That’s not to say I’ll never post here again.  I’ve learned to never say never.

In the meantime, I’ve embarked on a new blogging journey.  Please come see my new endeavor She’s A Pretty Good Christian.

You’ll find me at  Never fear, my humor has not left me.

Oh yeah, EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer will be a part of the new blog, no doubt.  See ya over there.


Linda and


Just Pee in the Cup Already!

Sweet EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer has had some health issues of late.  The most annoying one (for all of us) is a stomach problem — she has issues with digesting her food and she burps louder and longer than a longshoreman.  Poor Em!

She willingly went to the vet’s because she likes it there.  I don’t like it at my doctor’s office, but I’m not a dog.  Anyway, the vet is aware of the issue; Em’s been on meds prior to this visit.  But, the problem returns.  He suggests obtaining a blood sample, giving her her annual shots (which were due), refilling her heartworm and flea prevention meds, and oh, here’s a plastic tray…please get a sample of her urine.

Excuse me?

This morning bright (well, actually it was dark) and early, the whole family goes out to the backyard to obtain a pee sample from EmmaLou.  I was on leash and flashlight duty; Devoted Spouse had the little (and I do mean little) plastic tray at the ready.  Em sniffs around, squats down, I yell at Devoted Spouse, “NOW!”, he slides the tray under her and EmmaLou jumps straight up in the air taking her precious pee with her.

Take Two:  “C’mon sweetie puppy girl…pee in the cup.”  Yes, dogs can get a hateful look on their faces.  Finally she squatted again and we repeated the above exercise.  It didn’t work the second time, either.

Devoted Spouse took EmmaLou out on her morning walk, where she peed like someone who’s had their bladder stopped up for a month.  Peed all up and down the street.  Did we get a sample?  No…forgot the tray.

While running errands, I stopped in the vet’s office.  They laughed and laughed but finally agreed I could bring her up late in the day and THEY would try the little plastic tray trick.

EmmaLou and I, meanwhile, have decided we should never speak of this barbaric intrusion into her personal life again.  Sigh…

How to Have Fun While Your Dog is Wearing the Cone of Shame or Teasing EmmaLou 101

Yes, sweet little EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer, is wearing The Cone of Shame once again due to a slight ‘ouchie’ on her muzzle that needs to heal.  I’ve made up some things to do to pass the time while she is in this contraption.  These are games she and I can play (well, sort of) that will keep her occupied and me in hysterics (I know…this is going to come back to haunt me some day).

For example, EmmaLou loves to play with her toys.  Fetch is especially fun while she’s wearing the Cone. It works like this… I pick up one of her toys.  EmmaLou races over to me.  I throw the toy behind her.  She spins around and smacks whatever piece of furniture is there with her Cone.  I fall on floor in hysterics.  She manages to get to the toy, bends down, puts the Cone over it like a giant Hoover and scarfs it up.  I laugh harder.  Then we repeat.

Another fun game takes place at the kitchen table.  EmmaLou loves to join Devoted Spouse and me for a meal.  We eat and she sits there and looks particularly pathetic in hopes we will toss a morsel her way.  Wearing the Cone makes meal time so much more fun.  EmmaLou will place herself between my chair and Devoted Spouse’s (note this is a round table).  While she’s looking toward Devoted Spouse, I’ll quietly reach around her and tap on her Cone.  She flips her head around and looks for what touched her Cone.  I shoot milk out of my nose and fall into fits of manic laughter.  Again, repeat as necessary.

Here’s a great one that anyone can play.  While EmmaLou is on the couch, reach inside the cone and tickle her ear.  Then sit back and prepare to be highly amused as she tries in vain to scratch the ear and ends up only scratching the Cone.   A fun time for all!

I have more, but you get the idea.  EmmaLou chewed one of my books the other day.  Can’t imagine why…sigh…

New Olympic Sport Being Considered

Y’all ‘member EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer?  The 75 lb bane of my existence?  At 7 1/2 years old, she’s rapidly approaching doggie dotage.  Unfortunately, she has acquired a new habit; one that I’m finding difficult to live with, and that’s putting it mildly.

EmmaLou had decided our house is now her bathroom.  Oh, she still goes outside and sniffs every blade of grass and she may occasionally make a deposit somewhere in the yard.  More often than not, I am awakened to the wafting aroma of … well… you know what comes out of a dog.  Let’s just say, I would rather be awakened by practice time from the marching band of the worst high school in Lower Slobovia than this.

The other day I had a new experience.  While working in my home office I was alerted to the sight of EmmaLou in the hallway.  She roamed around in circles and that emergency klaxon in the far recesses of my brain started going off.  This dog was about to make a deposit on my light-colored hallway carpet and I was a goodly distance away from her.  As she began to squat and get that glazed look in her eyes, I flew out of my ergonomic chair and sprinted for the hall bathroom all the while screaming at the top of my lungs, “Emma Nooooooooooooooooooo!”  D’ya think that stopped her from her mission?

Amazingly enough, I gathered gobs of tp and managed to “catch the first baby”, quickly turn around and sprint to the toilet and deposit it, grab another wad of tp and repeat the process.  Thinking I had finished handling (sorry) this disaster, I slowed my progress.  And that’s when it happened.  Everything she had been saving arrived and descended in slow motion onto my carpet.  I stood there in horror wondering if my dog had, in fact, been the result of a breeding experiment gone horribly wrong – a Golden Retriever and a hippopotamus perhaps.  I didn’t have enough tp left in the bathroom for this.

About that time, Devoted Spouse was running up the stairs with a large roll of paper towels and the ever-present gallon-sized bottle of Resolve.  As he hit the second to last stairstep I had acquired a large handful of Kleenex and managed to scoop what was left, once more wasting gallons and gallons of precious water flushing.

I lost count of how many times I hit that toilet handle and ran back to the hallway.  I imagine that day all the meters on the utility company Plasma Screens of Flushing were in the red zone.  EmmaLou was so proud of herself.  If I could expel what she did in those copious amounts; well let’s just put it this way: I’d probably now be a size 2….sigh…

Lethal Weapon 5…or Step Away From the Cone


All I wanted to do was have a few days of peace and quiet — a long weekend away with the hubs somewhere.  So I made arrangements for someone to take care of the house and sent EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer to her “estate” home-away-from-home.

Imagine my surprise when I picked her up at the kennels we’ve used for 6 years to find she’s injured and limping and the kennel wasn’t concerned (that’s another story).  Let’s concentrate on EmmaLou for this posting.  Why you ask?  Because the poor thing had to go to the vet to have her injury treated (lacerated paw) and came home wearing the Cone of Shame.  Yes…the Cone of Shame.  Let’s sprinkle this post with a few pics along the way, shall we?

EmmaLou arrives home w/paw bandaged & wrapped in plastic & wearing Cone of Shame

Was EmmaLou irritated?  You bet your life she was — this is the dog who flat out refuses to let her groomer put bows or a bandana on her and now she’s wrapped in this dorky bandage (note pic below), is wearing a lampshade on her head and there’s no beer to go along with the lampshade!

"No chew" like she can read instructions duh

 I gave the Cone of Shame about an hour before she chewed it off (we’ve been down this road before).  But this time was different — the vet gave her pain pills and I immediately fed her one when she arrived home — oh yeah…she zoned out.

Lovin' the pain pills!

Unfortunately it didn’t last long and she was up and trying hard to navigate around the house with this gawdawful lampshade on her head.  I was reminded of pictures of huge cars from the 1950s with these strange things sticking out of their wheels — I think they were called “bumper feelers” and helped the driver know when the car was at the curb — EmmaLou needed Bumper Feelers for the lampshade.  She tried in vain to play with a toy and managed to get it into the lampshade but wasn’t having much fun.

Trying to play w/Rocky Racoon but Lampshade in way

She finally settled into  a prone position with one of her rubber bones in the Cone with her for company.  LOL

EmmaLou manages to get the bone to fit inside the Cone of Shame

Shortly she bumped her way into the coffee table and managed to climb up onto the family room sofa where she hung out until supper time.  We tried not to laugh, but it was hysterical watching her miscalculate where the furniture was versus where her Cone was.  Poor girl.  She will repay me for the laughter.

Made it to the get this thing off me!!

 Toward the end of the evening EmmaLou knew it was time for bed but I didn’t want her to be on pain meds and fall out of our bed (it’s antique and high up off the floor) so I planned on sleeping on the couch and keeping her downstairs with me.  She wasn’t interested in that idea — she waited for me at the top of the stairs

I'm up here Mom!

Being the smart cookie I am….I hid another pill in some cheese and we settled down for the evening.

Wow these pills are gooooood stuff!

The good news is she should be fine in a couple of days…the bad news is as long as she’s on pain pills one of us has to babysit her at all times so she doesn’t run into something.  Heaven knows she’s run into us enough and that stupid Cone hurts when it hits bare shins!!  OW.  I may need my own bandage soon.  But I’m not wearin’ the lampshade without at least one Margarita first!

All I wanted was a quiet weekend…sigh…

I’m Good With the First Part…But After That I Dunno

I hear this phrase frequently:  “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.”  It seems to be the ‘feel-good’ phrase of this century, and that’s okay.  I’m a Christian woman and I happen to believe that God loves me; the second part of the sentence is what often troubles me.

The past few weeks have been chocked full of minor calamities and ridiculous situations and, of course, I am in the midst of each and every one.  I’ve walked into walls (seriously), dropped things everywhere, tried my best to do a good deed for someone and drove in the completely opposite direction of my destination.  I start one project, rapidly move on to something else, and 3 hours later I have a house full of half-done chores.  I go to the grocery where they know me by name and I’m greeted with…”Hi Linda, back again today…forget something?”  Do you see the trend here?

Yes, God loves me.  But I have a sneaking suspicion I am one of his main sources of entertainment.  Perhaps it is a test.  Will Linda lose her mind today?  Will the package of strawberries with mold on the bottom that she doesn’t notice until she gets home send her over the edge? Is today the day Linda wears her shirt inside out again in public?

Okay – God loves me. I’m good with that. But, ya know…there’s a hitch.  Ya see, He sent me EmmaLou.  Now I don’t mean to be sacrilegeous here – really.  But I’m beginning to think that EmmaLou is my cross to bear.  Ya’ll know she can be angelic and then….

So I’m sitting in my craft   crap   hoarder haven   home office  frittering away on Twitter the other morning when I see through my amazingly accurate depth perception EmmaLou….slinking out of the room and on her way down the stairs.  Suddenly life went in slow motion.  She turned her head toward me, her long golden fur whipping around her, and there for me to notice clutched in her slobbering mouth was my Smart Phone.

What did I do?  Did I jump up yelling and screaming at my fur-child and race like a mad woman down the stairs after her?  No.  I sat here and Twittered: EmmaLou just left with my smart phone in her mouth.  She is in possession of a piece of technology that is so expensive I have 20 more payments on it, and I SIT HERE ON TWITTER.  Gah…. “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world.”  No – he’s in his recliner laughing like crazy.

God loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life.  God loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life.  I keep chanting that in my head.  I put down my laptop finally as I realize that EmmaLou loves to not just eat things but take them apart first.  THEN I ran down the stairs (missing the last step and almost killing myself) and went after her. 

Thankfully, God does, in fact, love me.  EmmaLou was reclined on the family room floor looking terribly bored.  My slightly soggy Smart Phone was by her head and it was virtually untouched…nothing but some gooey doggy slobber…no teeth marks….no missing pieces.

I’m sure ya’ll are wondering now what I did next…did I smack the crap outta EmmaLou for snagging my Smart Phone right out from under my eyes?  Did I yell at her and tell her what a bad dog she was?

No.  I just said….”Thanks God I really appreciate this one.  But could ya stop guffawing and work on that wonderful plan part please?”…. sigh…