Ode to Rembrandt Martin's Masterpiece

aka Remy, Rembo, Rembot, Buddy. Otherwise known as my Dog.

Remy is a Boston Terrier and he is now a year and a half young. A pre-teen in dog years. Luckily we have avoided the hormonal fluctuations by having him neutered early. As happens, this also prolongs his "baby" status in my eyes. (Unfortunately, I have been unable to replicate this convenience in my daughter. But that is a story for another day.)

Remy is an Aquarius and, according to the dog zodiac, this means he is vivacious, social and likes to "cuddle" while being somewhat insecure. This is true. Anyone who has met Remy has immediately noticed his friendly demeanor. When walking, he is sure to say "hello" and "how do you do" to everyone who passes. Walkers of the canine variety get a special "HELLO!" and "It's so NICE to sniff you today!!" His insecurity comes out mostly with Daddy. It is extremely important to Remy that he is loved by all. Daddy's gruff greetings often result in droopy ears and sad eyes until Daddy smiles and then Remy jumps up - "Yay! My daddy DOES love me!" (Remy is prone to capitalized and enunciated words in his speech. I'm just translating it here for you.)

Dog zodiac also describes the Aquarius pet as "striking" and "good looking". This fits Rembrandt to a tee! I may be biased as the Mommy, but he is an exceptionally good-looking Boston. His nose isn't overly-smushed and he is very muscular. He is rather on the large end of the scale, at 28 pounds, but he's solid. I would bet that he packs more pound-for-pound than a 110-pound Rottweiler. Just try walking him. Try walking him past another dog. I dare you to not be pulled off balance. I double-dog dare you.

Yes, I am completely in love with him. I think it is a Boston trait that their owners fall so hard for them. I am a member of a Boston Terrier owner message board and I love going there because I don't feel so kooky about my feelings toward Remy. To everyone there, it is completely understandable that I allow the Dog to sleep under the covers and buy him sweaters in the winter. Something that might not translate to the owner of a Lab or Pit Bull.

So now that you have been introduced to Sir Rembrandt, stay tuned. I know that his little doggy pea-brain is coming up with many adventures to keep you entertained. He is an Aquarius Masterpiece, after all.

(And oh yes - anyone who knows me would not miss the Remy Martin alcohol reference. Poor Remy, his mom is a boozer.)

Freudian Trip

Last night I dreamed that Bachelor erupted. I saw it from my bedroom window from the first sign of smoke. The sky was dark and the lava was pouring down the side of the mountain, glowing orange and red in the viewfinder of my window. It was magnificent! I made sure that L got pictures of it, because in my dream he was the only person in town that could. Everyone else was frozen in fear. This isn't actually the first time I've dreamed of a volcanic eruption, I wonder if it will come again. Of course it seems so obviously sexual, Mr. Freud would have a field day with it.

When I was pregnant, I dreamed that I gave birth to a tiny alien baby. I went shopping and left it behind in a dressing room. When I finally remembered and went back for it, it had shriveled up from the heat in the room and died - a tiny, fragile paper-mache baby.

When I was three, a wolf stole into my room in a dream and argued that my bed was his bed. I woke up on the floor screaming when he pushed me off. Nothing my parents said could convince me that it didn't really happen. I was on the floor - how else could I have gotten there if the Big Bad Wolf hadn't pushed me?

You know, I believe that Old Siggy would pay me to retell my dreams. But I don't want to know what they mean. My life might start to make sense.