All About Crochet And The Art In You…

Three years have passed since we welcomed that little white furry cute Maltese Puppy in our lives.

My kids had insisted on ordering one after a thorough look at what our neighborhood’s pet-shop had in offer.  We had a Maltese years ago, and apparently some kinds of love are self perpetuating.

They gave me a small plastic container to transfer him home and I will never forget his debut as we arrived.  Without a single trace of fear, this tiny creature invaded in our space the same way it invaded in our hearts.  The fact that we failed with his “potty training” for long, and I discovered the tedious duty of cleaning and disinfecting every corner of the house, was not a reason to love him less, especially compared to the love he was giving back in response to our teasing.

Although the vet had stressed that we should avoid feeding him with our leftovers, and stick with a dietary formula he recommended, we soon realized that Ozi – our furry treasure- had his very own preferences and also his way to impose them to us.

We discovered that there were certain dog-food brands Ozi would rather leave untouched in his plate, while his enthusiasm was easily reaching the edge of addiction to others, and in particular certain flavors, not just any type.  So we even experimented with homemade recipes especially for him.

He might have not be proven the tidiest Maltese Puppy in the world in terms of peeing around, but he definitely enjoyed his bath, and he loved being rubbed by his personal towel.

None of us will forget Ozi’s adventures while we’d been staying at my mother’s home for a few months.  Grandma was very strict on her terms and one of them we all should comply with, was NEVER TO LET OZI INSIDE.  So, our spoiled little doggy-prince had to settle for a wire-fenced space on the concrete basement, which was open to countryside’s nature, with the hen practicing their monotonous tones all day, wild cats passing by and eating most of his dog food, birds stealing sips of his water, and soon a long chain preventing him from violating the fence’s weak niches.

Kids and I couldn’t stand this situation, so we made a secret oath, to take him upstairs with us every night, and I was getting up early at 6am every morning, to place Ozi back to his chain and fenced space before grandpa was there working in the garden.

For months Ozi was spending the nights with us, and the mornings in his ugly prison.

Suddenly, one day as we came back at noon, Ozi was not there.  Our suspicion that grandma had found out about our conspiracy fell flat on the ground.  She had no idea.  Grandpa hadn’t seen him either.  He mysteriously had managed to free himself from the chain, and get out of the fence from an opening which we couldn’t see, while jumping over was out of question.

Kids and I decided to search the neighborhood to all directions, so we walked calling him and asking the neighbors if anyone had seen a little white dog wandering alone.  Three neighborhoods further, on a hill, a lady sitting at her balcony, told us that she had seen Ozi “the female dogs’ heartbreaker” wandering around and wooing her female terrier, and she brought hope back into our hearts reassuring us that once his erotic temperament ran dry he would return home.  We spotted Ozi a few hours later, that afternoon, and we asked grandma to allow us to keep him upstairs for a few days till his “Don Juan” breeding syndrome was over.

There are countless incidents where Ozi’s behavior made us realize that he added lots of beautiful notes in our daily routine.

Being a grown up adult now, he has earned the right to wake kids up for school in his own frisky manner, jumping on them, licking their faces and crawling underneath their bed covers.