18 August 2024
As the owner of a one-year-old beagle, i ought to label this essay, Jolene’s Life With Me. Such is not the case, especially when you own a Windkist Pup.
Training me as to her preferences has come with a cost. Previous beagles have taught me that small stuffed animals are prey to the jaws of hounds who do not like to be left alone in the house. During my years at the Peach Lane abode, I’d leave Bootsie, and Bridget, in the house, to drive to pick up Dear Daughter at Sierra College.
When we returned to our dwelling place, Twinkle Bear, a very small stuffed white bear from the now-nearly defunct Macy’s; and Odie, of Gardield fame, had been mouthed by Puppy Boy and strewn somewhere in the house. Those adorable toy animals had been ensconced in the bookcase in the bedroom of Dear Son.
An obvious case of Puppy Tension.
Bridget never partook in that destructive behavior. She truly was my Baby Love. Putting her outside, however, unattended, always resulted in my frustrated eyes, as the Driver of the Caddy, once again greeting her victorious stance, halfway up the driveway.
Yes, Bridgee had gotten out of the fenced yard, yet again, for who knows how long; and God only knows where she’d been for the hour of my absence from her loving side. She was abundantly proud as she stood there, tail wagging, to let me know that she’d found another escape route that I would never find.
With Jolene, the challenge has become obvious to me: She thinks that my dolls are her chew toys. This boundary violation is new to me, but so is the fact that petting her in the hour before bedtime neither calms nor soothes her. It stimulates her into corkscrew action.
“We’re gonna play now, right?????!!!”
Decades of Hound Training . . . wasted! Well, you cannot teach an old dog new tricks, but you can instruct a mature dog owner in new . . . realities!
A few weeks ago, Jolene wandered (or made a bee-line, since I wasn’t anywhere around to watch the sneak-thief activity) into the Guest Room. She grabbed hold of my Kimekomi doll.
Now I will fully admit that putting this sweet little girl on the lower shelf of a nightstand was a foolish choice. It never entered my mind that I was endangering Kimmy, as I call her. When Dear Husband came walking out of the room with this beautiful traditional doll from Japan, I gasped.
The head ornament, along with some of her hair-bun, was completely chewed off, and likely swallowed, as was the floral decoration she’d been so delicately holding in her hand.
I immediately contacted my seller-friend in Japan, explaining my carelessness, and purchased from his e-tailer site a very small Ichimatsu ningyo doll who was in need of the love of a first-responder. One leg was missing. His neck needed restringing, cause it flops all about. Stains were evident on the exquisite fabric used for the clothing. But his hair consists of actual human hair! And the process of creating this highly prized doll is an art form in itself!
I decided this little little (90 grams) guy would serve a higher purpose. And so he did.
My only experience with Japanese hair ornamentation has been observing the man-bun that Brent Burns of the San Jose Sharks used to sport so well, albeit with that winning smile of missing teeth. But I crafted a wonderful new look for her, and even gave her a much nicer flower to hold. She’s in a safe place now, in my Sewing Room.
Doll # 2 victimized by Jolene hit a lot closer to home. My Madeline Doll is not really my doll. She’s belonged to Dear Daughter since sometime around 1992. In 2012, my Colette gave her to me for safekeeping, while she’s far away on her teaching Latin odyssey.
And I have to say that I’d done an excellent job of taking care of Madeline. I carefully wrapped and packed her into her own special box for moving out of the Peach House into the Rental Dump; and then I transported her during the summer of 2020 to Larkhaven, the dream house. She’s been a joy and an inspiration for me, especially during my French-translation-work.
During the autumn of 2023, I washed her clothes, for the first time ever! And gave her a small sponge bath. You’d be amazed how much dust can collect over the decades!
Last week, I placed Madeline on a chair in the Guest Room while I sat on the bed to get some reading, writing, and singing done. I thereafter left the room unattended, to grab a snack, for just a short time. Little Miss Jolene snuck into the Guest Room. Minutes later, she pranced into the front entryway with Madeline in her mouth, the Jaws of Death. She looked every bit as pleased as Bridget — with the proud stance of winning — in the driveway at Peach Lane.
I did not gasp. I uttered some words that are not repeatable.
Madeline’s yellow felt hat had been half-consumed. The rest of the fabric doll was wet, but unharmed. Another sponge bath was in order.
Online I went to find a replacement hat from a replacement Madeline. The search was most advantageous, even propitious! I found the replacement hat quickly. And then, there, before my very eyes, was a Madeline Christmas Doll!!
The price was cut-rate, bargain basement. Of late, I’ve been noticing a lot of that desperation-panic-pricing online of all types of merchandise. Those lovely memories of the Great Recession, starting in 2007/2008, emerged in my creative and non-creative psyches. Today’s slasher-sales certainly have something to do with Stark Reality catching up with the shoddy American manufacturing of fraud&deception.
The Yuletide Madeline arrived just the other day. She is a stunner! And she’s much bigger than the original Madeline! That sensation of seeing any commodity, coming out of the box, LARGER, for the price of a song — it’s a novel experience for any consumer nowadays in the USA.
I’m looking forward to setting her by a ceramic Christmas tree, a gift that dates back to the birth of Dear Daughter. It’ll be comical to see how she dwarfs the tree — which shall be placed on a table — high high above the snatch-and-grab jaws of Miss Jolene.