Danny Mac's Blog - Posts Tagged "dog-lover"

Hello everyone,

Our family dog is a mutt of unknown origins. We suspect she carries genes from Ridgeback because of the darker red going down her back. Her ears remind us of a Bully or Boxer, but her snout resembles more of a Lab without the pouches. Her personality boasts a large portion of very hyperactivity and obstinate breeds.

Her short red-orange hair first reminds people of honey that gave her the name at the pound. A problem soon arrives with her presence in our house. My wife refers to my daughter and I as Honey and every time she calls us, the dog comes running. So, the first day home, I mention, “She is a ginger.” From that point forward her forever name remains Ginger.

Several times a day, the zoomies race her through the house at top speed. So, we send our ten-year-old daughter and Ginger to obedience training where they both learn to follow instructions. Ginger’s bouts of super energy and lack of attention make the training go very slowly. She barely passes puppy training. The teacher of thousands of dogs states he has not seen anything like her.

Her hyperactivity fads with time but her obstinate trait blossoms at the same time. As she approaches ten years of life, she remains the most hyper dog I ever met, she has calmed over the years. As she slows down, her stubborn streak increases. She soon follows commands only when there is something in it for her. Then the complaints start when things don’t go her way.

About her seventh birthday, she became a full-blown Karen entitled to all the special treatment and privileges devised in her mind. When we fail to meet her wants, we hear about her grievances from groans and grumbles to all-out shouting at us in a high-pitched screaming whine. If she reaches this top level of disdain, we receive the cold shoulder until the next mealtime. She always warms up to us when it is feeding time. A Karen can be very charming when they want something but become ogres when their wants are not met.

This is our dog and our life with a living breathing Karen. We remain vigilant not to upset her, but we still have to maintain the rules of the house such as not feeding her every time she feels hungry, which is all the time. The other day, my daughter feeds Ginger and ten minutes later mom comes downstairs. Ginger stares with sad hungry eyes after not eating for a month of Sundays.

“Did you feed Ginger?” hollers up the stairs.

“Even a bit more,” comes echoing down.

“You’ve been fed!” mom staring back at the forsaken face.

“Oarrrrn, Uggghhhh” comes back in a deep under-the-breath groan.
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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

Tuesday starts off with the sun fighting through the clouds. My wife rises first taking Ginger with her. Meanwhile, I hover between dream and reality as I try to catch a few more Zs. I hear the door close to let our old dog outside for her morning business.

A few hours of dreams pass in the five minutes only to have reality bark into my next storyline. Our resident Karen finds her first complaint just after daybreak. She cannot stop for the injustice in her eyes is unparalleled.

We gather Ginger into the house to find two pickup trucks with smashed mirrors stopped in front of our house to sort out the details. The red truck pushes his broken glass from the driver’s door onto the pavement before they decide to move to a side street just out of sight which slows the howling of the irate Karen. As she finally calms down, the man from the red truck and the neighbor clean the glass in front of our drive which saves me from doing it after breakfast. This generates another round of barking at their audacity.

She shows her continual torment knowing they are nearby letting out a gruff every couple of minutes. A State Trooper slows in front which sets our Karen into another rage against the man until he disappears around the corner. All seems quiet when another car slows in front of our house with another five minutes of complaint howling echoing through the house.

Then mom checks the garden for tomatoes to make a salad for Small Group and Ginger rises to assist. While watching mom from the back deck, she spies the two dogs two doors down. Again, her rule is no other dogs are allowed in our neighborhood. She lets her wrath known to the world of the two dogs walking peaceably around their yard.

Every half hour Ginger discovers something new to voice her Karen complaints until we start cleaning for the guest coming over. Naturally with the typical Karen attitude, she puts herself in the middle of it. Grumbling at everyone getting in her way.

As five rolls around, we start setting the table and putting the final touches for a night of entertainment. Mom trips over the dog and wrenches her arm trying to keep her balance. Mom yells at her baby and Karen gives mom a look as if she should stay out of her way.

Only half the group shows up for Bible study with back-to-school and family problems keeping the others away. However, a proper Karen always expects all attention should go to her and the study operates around her groans and grumbles about being ignored. Ginger fulfills her mission of a total Karen for the entire day missing her twelve hours of naps.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

Karen Gets into Trouble

A quiet Wednesday afternoon finds me at the computer typing out a new chapter in my next book. The creative juices flowing to my fingers pecking at the keys place the words in a mad fury on the screen. A thousand words mash into a story in one hour. It requires a lot of editing but the basic story fills the page.

We have two burgundy red high-back chairs, a couch, and a loveseat decorating our living room. My wife covers the sofas with a cover easily removed to clean the Ginger colored hair off it periodically. Two matching throw pillows that adorn the sofas fill on the cushions of the red chairs keeping the dog off them and her hair from collecting and redepositing on unsuspecting visitors.

Ginger with her full Karen disposition believes this to be an affront to who she is. It is her right as a Karen to leave her dog hair anywhere she wants it. Furthermore, we peasants living in the house with her should wear her hair proudly wherever we go to show her dominance over us. Guest visiting her home should feel privileged to leave with her mark of orange-red hair all over their clothes.

In fulfilling this mission statement, she wrenches the covers off the sofas several times and prefers sleeping on the red chairs. Well, mom likes spoiling her fur baby but draws the line at her sleeping on the uncovered chairs. Ginger acquires the bright idea to pull the cushions and the throw pillow off the chair and sleep on the floor with them.

I break from writing to see her snoozing comfortably half on the red cushion and half on the throw pillow. “Ohhh, you are going to get into trouble when mom sees what you did.”

“Grrrrrnnnn, Orrrrnnneeerr,” comes back at me.

A couple of minute’s later mom enters the living room to see her beloved dog sitting on the couch staring at the mess on the floor. “Who did this,” she rants glowering at her fur baby.

“Grrrrrnnnn, rrrrrummmm,” in defense of the indefensible.

As mom picks up the cushion and pillow, Ginger waddles her furry butt into the kitchen with a stare declaring it was my fault for not picking up the mess she made. That’s right folks, it was my fault she got into trouble with her mom even though she was the one that broke the rules of mom. I misunderstood her grumbling to me to clean up her mess before mom sees it.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

Karen in the Kitchen

My first profession was as a line cook at several restaurants. My best training came under the tutelage of an NYC-trained chef. She was very instrumental in teaching cream sauces, sautéing, and proper seasoning. I learned great skills working with and for Marsha.

Even though I enjoyed my time with her, got yelled at when required, praised when warranted, worked with two other excellent cooks, and never had to wonder what to make. That problem was corrected by the servers in the dining room and they brought me a ticket filling everyone’s wants.

I cook for my family today, the only direction I receive is “I don’t care, I don’t know,” and my favorite, “Food!” I am lucky if they give me a meat to start the menu, let alone the sides. So, I fix what I want to eat unless I hear a suggestion. Most time I go out of my way to make it happen. My wife’s favorite is fettuccine alfredo, but that is very rich and we only have it one or two times per year.

The daily problem I have in my older cooking life is telling our resident Karen I do not need her assistance. For she is the only one in the house that offers to help. Go figure, the only one without opposable thumbs proposes to contribute as she poses as a premier taste-tester of all food. In her Karen-like mind, she sees herself as the savior of the family protecting us from bad food.

She could supervise from the edge of the kitchen waiting for something to drop, but being a Karen of a dog, she forces her furry red head directly in front of me. As I move from stove to refrigerator to countertop, she will forge her ten-inch tongue onto my cutting board for a quick taste. Her puppy trainer told us to step on her and she will learn to stay out of the way. This only works for dogs that are not a Karen. And so, my kitchen dialog includes, “Get out of the kitchen,” repeatedly until I yell at her to get her furry butt out of the kitchen.

Then she pouts the rest of the cooking time while lying in the living room, sometimes in the forbidden red chairs from last week. The echoes of complaints groan throughout the house every five minutes. Then she hears the plate coming out of the cupboard and prances into the kitchen knowing manager mom will soon follow to protect her from me shouting at her.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

My daughter dug up a six by twelve foot section of the yard and made a raised garden five years ago. We brought a truckload of dirt to fill the raised bed. We have enjoyed the fruits of her labors over the past few years. This past spring, she wanted more and cleared another equal section to the previous. Then tilled in compost and fill dirt to bring the garden to level with the rest of the yard. She planted tomatoes, jalapenos, and several other vegetables in the upper garden. In the lower one, she wanted some squash and melons.

The garden produced a healthy number of tomatoes and peppers, but their appearance lacked desirability and therefore not really sellable. What do you do when your garden gives you ugly tomatoes, we made salsa. The first batch came out three weeks ago with a little bite to it. For the second batch, we kicked it up with some hotter peppers and even better taste. The third batch made this past Wednesday scored a heat level between the first and the second.

However, this time my wife used a strainer instead of a bowl to hold the peeled tomatoes allowing the clear liquid juice to leak all over the counter. As she deseeded the red orbs, they added to the mess and eventually overflowed the counter.

As the juice dripped from the counter, our four-legged Karen licked up the juices falling from two sides of the counter. What Ginger didn’t count on was the juice to continue to drip as she lapped up the scrumptious people food. By the time we finished dicing the five pounds, her head, ears, and snout shined with sweet clear juice from the butchered tomatoes.

As the diced tomatoes, jalapenos, onion, cilantro, garlic, and other flavors stewed in the pot, Ginger’s head became crusted by the now-drying juices caking her face. Mom laughed at her appearance as I smiled for our Karen really didn’t care.

The salsa simmered for a half hour before ready for canning. The jars settled into the boiling water for five minutes and then on the counter for filling. The boss filled them, and I corrected the level with a teaspoon. She left me to cap, close, and the canned food aligned in the boiling water for twenty minutes.

“Time for a bath,” caused our resident Karen to act surprised and she sought out a hiding spot. Mom being the ultimate manager of the house, pulled out the Kryptonite for Ginger’s Karen antics. With one genuine dog cookie, our resident Karen becomes a fun-loving dog who loves bath time.

Ginger entered the kitchen soaking wet before the salsa crossed over to the counter to cool. She pranced like a queen until she remembered the licking was not complete and started on the legs of the counter. “I already wiped them down!” smarmily out of my mouth. The Karen returned with a disgruntled stare.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

In 1993, a girl managed to do what no other girl could and that was to steal my heart closely guarded heart. Between the winter and spring quarters of college, we married in a small chapel with friends and family in attendance. We settled into a small apartment after a brief honeymoon. First day living in our first home, I called her boss. “I am not the boss, we are in this together,” protested out of her mouth.

When we finished the spring quarter with a few more times her objecting to being called boss, my mother invited us over for lunch. Mom prepared sandwiches as we talked about our new life together. My father’s footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the house as he came down from his office. “What’s for lunch, boss?” nonchalantly exits his lips.

My wife stared at me knowing why I called her boss. At that moment she accepted her position of boss in the house knowing it came from a long line of men calling their wives boss.

Fast forward nearly twenty-nine years later, Ginger, our dog, likes looking out the patio window to express her Karen indignation at the neighbor’s dogs, two houses down. Before spotting the desire of her ire, I yelled at her, “What is the rule of looking out the door?” Answering my own question, “Don’t”

“Oorrrnnn-rooo-noooo” or translated to English, “I was doing no such thing and you can’t prove I was.”

“You certainly were searching for a reason to bark your head off.”

“Narnnn, rrrrooooonnn,” which means “I was just looking.”

“Take your furry butt upstairs before you get into trouble.”

She runs off in a huff to see the boss of the house. My wife comes down a couple of minutes later and asks, “Why did you yell at her?”

“First I didn’t yell but spoke firmly. Second, she took a peek out the window to bark at the neighbor dogs.”

“Oorrrnnn-rooo-noooo” came two steps behind mom with a Karen-like smile on her face.

Addressing my four-legged child, “So, you went and complained to the boss telling her lies hoping to get me in trouble?”

Even our dog knows who the boss in our house is.


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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

Sorry for the brevity of this week’s blog, I am fighting a head cold and as I approach sixty-four years old; it becomes more draining with each year.

It was nine years ago we picked Ginger from the shelter not knowing her breed. She appeared somewhat hyper, but it was the prison-like environment we supposed. We took her and our daughter to obedience classes for the betterment of both. The daughter excelled and learned a lot. Ginger being the super-hyper type didn’t fare as well.

Ginger slept with me and mom in our room. The first movement in the morning brought the bouncing puppy onto the bed to play hop on pop. Mom rose first and the crazy dog rolled, jumped, and then pounced on me until I rubbed her head as she demanded. The sink water ran, and Ginger gathered by the door for breakfast. After they left the room, I could rise without being scratched and scraped by over-anxious claws.

The years pass and Ginger’s chin transforms from a cayenne orange to a salty white. Her bouncing personality transforms from a hyper-spry dog to a Karen-like demeanor. Our morning routine changes from a pouncing puppy to a grumbling old dog complaining we are disturbing her sleep. Instead of hearing whimpers of excitement to start the day, a low toned, “Gooorrrrnnnnn,” and “Grrrruuummm,” fills the room because we chose to move in the morning. As the autumn morning sun peers into our windows after we rise in the morning, the darkness echoes the discomfort as we start the day. Don’t disturb a Karen from her sleep, even if the Karen is your family dog.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

More than twenty-eight years ago I began to bed down with my wife. A process quickly formed as newlyweds that she crawled into bed before me while I shuttered the abode. The responsibility was to turn off all the lights with the exception of security lighting, make the doors secure, and have cooler temperatures on the thermostat fell on me.

Over the years, dogs came into our lives. The first slept with us comfortably at twenty pounds. Our second 40-pound dog began sleeping with us but became upset because we took up too much space in our bed and moved to the floor in her padded dog bed in a clearing on mom’s side of the room.

Naturally, I take much too long performing the closing duties of the house and my lovely bride urges me to hurry for twenty-eight years. I wriggle into my third of the bed, the light goes off, and it is a fine time for forty winks. Except, her brain goes off at the very moment darkness descends upon the room and she tells me everything that pops into it. Eventually, there is a pause in her pronouncements to which I fall asleep. She, like many women of TikTok, complains about her husband falling to sleep so suddenly.

This past week precedes like any other goodnight with her meandering comments about life. I know not to interrupt her and just listen for the break in conversation. This evening's closing ceremony begins like any other until I receive a collaborator for support. About halfway through her nightly announcements, we hear, “Grrooonn, grrrummm,” coming from the floor.

Wife defensively, “I will not shut up and will talk as long as I want to.”

From the floor, “Ooorrrrnn, errrnnnn,” as Ginger moves her bed from along mom’s side to the floor near dad’s side.

Me chuckling to myself, “Finely I agree with a Karen!”

“Your dog is being a Karen again,” grumbles from the far side of the bed.

“Oh, she is my dog now?”

“Yes, you are thinking what she said and probably put her up to it.”

“No Ginger is a Karen and only does what she wants to do.”

Then, “Grrooonn, grrrummm,” telling us both to be quiet and stop interfering with her beauty sleep.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

I read a meme this week that made me chuckle and think. The top picture shows a single wolf abandoned from the pack and crossing a snow-crusted landscape. The caption reads, “I’m hungry and there is a campfire, maybe I can get some food there. What is the worst that can happen? As I scrolled down, “10,000 years later” separated the bottom picture showing two sad-looking dogs wearing knitted silly hats.

It reminded me of an adage from when I was young. Once dogs were proud independent hunters, then they discovered people had couches. Thus, the accompanying picture.

The history of dogs coincides with human history. For thousands of years, dogs worked alongside humans for the profit of both. A dog’s keen awareness became a crucial element for hunting food and protecting the home from intruders. As the generations passed, the dogs developed into specialized breeds for specific jobs.

A little more than a hundred years ago, a dog’s life began to change from cohabitor to member of the family. This transmutation of dogs made them think they are human, and it is not their fault since we call them our fur babies. The ability to sleep through anything replaced the alertness of days gone by. Now there are videos of dogs sleeping through every threatening sound but a snack wrapper being opened.

As dogs enter the family status in the home, they took on human qualities as well. This means dogs have become more affectionate, loving, and caring over the years. However, to every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and some dogs acquired the entitlement of humans. This privileged attitude is in many people today. Some possess a small amount and others a great deal. The most entitled acquired the moniker, Karen.

Karen started as a rich white American woman, but as the stories flowed in from around the globe, it appears a Karen attitude affects any sex, race, religion, or social status. My story claims it now has crossed over to our family dog, who is a Karen.

Our neighbors put their house for sale. A nice couple put in an offer, and we met the other day. Ginger, our four-legged Karen became upset upon seeing new faces wandering around the yard of our neighbors. I met incoming neighbors but Ginger, who is a Karen wouldn’t accept them into the neighborhood because they didn’t clear it with her. While they tried to make friends with her, she kept barking, “noooorrrooo” at them. Her Karen way of saying they are not welcome. As for me, I am glad to have met them, and maybe they will join our Small Group.

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God bless,
Danny Mac

Hello everyone,

Our usual mornings begin with my wife rising first. Ginger grumbles as she walks by her and then jumps up on the bed to harass me. “If I can’t sleep in, neither may you,” is her mantra while nudging me. Mom comes out of the bathroom and calls for her fur baby to follow.

I do my morning stretches and then dig my old bones out of bed. A quick trip to the bathroom and downstairs I go. By then the dog is fed, tea water rattles as it warms, and my bride of twenty-eight years has my medicine on the counter to remind me to take it. Once the water starts to whistle from the pot, one of us pours the water to start the morning caffeinated.

I check messages on the computer while letting my tea steep. Wife grumbles back upstairs to drink her tea while still hot. After ten minutes, I start breakfast by warming the sausage and egg pans while listening to RedWheel Reddit stories. The quiet of the morning changes when Noisy and Nosy start back down the steps.

Noisy, my beloved wife starts with a sing-song voice before she leaves the bedroom. It is my responsibility to hear everything she says and respond as if she has my full attention so pause the video. “Your tea is getting cold,” said every morning. Meanwhile Nosy, our four-legged child, starts sniffing all around the stove for any molecules of food that might have fallen. My wife pulls a bowl from the cupboard and prepares her cereal. This includes half of a banana to keep her potassium levels high. There is always a little piece of banana to spoil the dog.

A week ago, we ran out of bananas and my wife foregoes her kick of potassium. Ginger looking up at mom with the big sad eyes of a dog that hasn’t had a bite to eat in over a month breaks her heart. “Oh, I am sooo sorry, no banana today,” as she turns to go back upstairs.

Then Ginger looks at me as I prepare my eggs and sausage with the same melancholy stare of hunger. “You know I don’t share,” smartly come out of my mouth. Like any Karen you read about, the attitude burst out at me like a sudden summer storm. “Grrrrrnnnn,” comes from under her breath and she walks away. She proceeds to give me the cold shoulder the rest of the morning. An hour later, I try petting her, only to see our resident Karen turn away and grumble some more at me like it is my fault she didn’t get her well-deserved banana.

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God bless,
Danny Mac