Hello, world. It’s been one hell of a week. I’ve found it hard to write here about trivial matters such as what awesomely bad film I’ve discovered or the thoughts I’ve had in traffic, writing or food, while so many people are risking their lives to fight for justice in Iran. When basic human rights are stripped from you, nothing else seems to matter, and although I haven’t been in Iran since I was 2-years-old, I have my eyes and ears on every single piece of information coming out of there. I didn’t grow up in Tehran, but my parents did and my grandparents before them, and it still feels like home.

But I digress. Enough of that for now. I have commentary to post and things to write, but for now, I need happy thoughts , most of which come in the form of Henry the Maltese.

Look at this dog. Have you seen a funnier one? He perches himself on top of the stairs I’ve put for him to get to my bed. How he contorts his body to fit on such a small space is beyond me.

This a dog who loves his toys like a small child, one who parks at people on the street during a car ride, but cries after them when we drive away. This dog is scared of the pool, but not of dogs four times his weight. He’s the dog that loves the feeling after a bath, but hides under the bed in hopes of avoiding one.

This dog will claw at you endlessly until you lift him and put him on the dining room chair next to you – God forbid he be left out.

This is a dog who loves vegetables, from the lettuce he begs for, shreds and then eats, to the green bell peppers and cauliflower he likes to crunch on. Mostly, this little dog makes me happy, even when I’m upset about situations I cannot help halfway across the world.

Two nights ago, I gathered my things from the living room, including Henry the Maltese and went to bed, like I do every night. I had just settled in under my sheets and was planning on doing some reading, when I looked over to find that Henry was not on his usual spot on my bed. I looked around the room without getting up and I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I knew he couldn’t have gone out, as the door was locked, so I decided to look under the bed. Even though it’s one of his favorite spots, he wasn’t there either. I started to call out his name and got up, but soon enough my panic had melted into uncontrollable fits of laughter, as I saw that he had climbed into my knitting basket that was full of yarn and decided to perch on it indefinitely.

Naturally, I had to get out the camera and snap a photo of my dog-hen before he decided that nesting time was over.

I couldn’t contain my laughter. I sat there wondering what has possessed him to climb into that basket. He wouldn’t even budge when I tried to move him.

His shenanigans were just another reminder of how much he brightens my day and brings the utmost joy to my life. There are days when I can’t remember what life was like before him. How on Earth did I live for 22 years and not have him with me? It’s inconceivable.

The way he goes mental when I come home, how he licks my tears when I cry, the invisible intruders he barks at on his nightly patrol of the house and the persistent way he scratches at my legs, as if to say “lift me in your arms, now,” these are all moments that I am always going to remember. I can’t bear to think of my life without him, even though the reality is, that that time will come.

But let’s not talk about that now.

Today, Henry the Maltese turns 2-years-old. Two years ago, I drove out to Hemet, Calif., to see a litter of Maltese puppies. It was just him and his brother left. They were both placed in my arms. His brother was sweet yet docile. Henry began to gnaw at my fingers immediately. That’s when I knew that it was meant to be. I drove back two months later and brought him home, where he proceeded to take a nice long piss on my mother’s treasured Persian rug. Oh well.

There is so much to say about Henry. He’s only 6 lbs, but he has more heart than I ever could have imagined. He is fiercely protective of his toys and nothing makes him happier than getting a new one. He loves eating pepper and blueberries and runs circles around the dining room table when he’s excited. When you’re sad, he’s sad. When you’re happy, he’s happy. He wont even think about leaving your side if you’re having a bad day, sacrificing food and water to keep you company.

Last summer, Henry had to have surgery for luxated patellas on both of his knees, which I documented on this site. For such a little dog, he’s been through a lot. He spent almost two months holed up in his crate, with wrappings and stitches and an Elizabethan collar which I detest so much. But he pulled through and although it was difficult for him, it was one of the hardest experiences I went through in my life. It was in those moments of his pain, that I realized what it was like to have and care for children.

Henry is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I hope you have a good birthday King Henry, I’ll have new toys and a tea saucer full of green bell peppers waiting for you.

When Henry the Maltese decided to wake up at 2 a.m. and stand in front of the bedroom door, patiently waiting for me to open it, I knew there was a problem. Usually if he gets up at an odd time, it’s to crawl under the bed in an effort to find cooler space, or sniff out some socks to chew on. I stumbled out of bed and opened the door and watched him head straight for his pad in the kitchen. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and before I knew it, Henry was spinning in circles like a mad man, arching his back and probably feeling horrible that he was having a big bout of explosive diarrhea.

After I cleaned him up, wrapped him in a towel and went back to bed, I knew it wasn’t the end of the Diarrhea Night of Hell. I opened all the windows in the kitchen, knowing full well that if that putrid smell was not allowed to exit the building, it would surely kill a 200 lb. man.

By 6 a.m, I had let him go about his business and washed him about three times. When 7 a.m. rolled around, I contemplated whether or not I should make the trek to work.

Somehow I pulled strength from somewhere and got up to get dressed. I had barely made my way to the bathroom when I heard something that sounded like faint fireworks exploding in the living room. When I got to Henry, he was crouched over, no doubt in pain from whatever had just shot out of his ass. It was clear we were not celebrating ANYTHING.

The rest of my day was spent nursing him back to health. In more ways than you know, I needed a day off, and perhaps Henry answered my prayers by deciding to keep me up all night and day so that I could wipe his bum and try not to throw up at the same time.

As the day progressed, he sat in my lap, where he is right now, seeking warmth and comfort from me. Occasionally, he’d raise his head, look at me with those big brown eyes and let out a tiny whine. Tucking his snout under my arm, he went to sleep, only waking up if he heard a threatening sound. It’s in these moments, that I realize that I need him just as much as he needs me. The cleaning, the wiping, the worrying, the taking time off work, it’s all worth it, when at the most unexpected moment, he pops his head up just to lick my hand, as if he’s saying “thank you.” No Henry, thank you.

He couldn’t get up as the early as rest of us, so he snuck out to his local polling center at PetSmart down the street and cast his vote. I tried to get him to tell me who he voted for, but he wasn’t having it. However, I think it’s safe to saw he went for Baruff Obama and not John McClaw.

This morning after eating breakfast, I decided to come and make my bed, when all of a sudden, a little monster named Henry just wouldn’t let me. He hopped up his mini stairs and began chasing my hands around as I was trying to straighten out the quilt cover. He was not only nipping me, but growling as well. I wanted to shout, “The power of Christ compels you!” in my best Dr. Evil voice. He had gone nuts. I continued about trying to get my job done, while this 6lb white gorilla kept gnawing on my hands. There were times when he would stop biting and spin around like dervish, until I relented and moved around to the other side of the bed.

And then, in an uncharacteristic move, I put my hands behind me, thinking I had outsmarted him. He looked up, blinked at me twice and before I knew it, he had jumped up and taken a nip at my breast! My right one to be exact. I scowled in pain between my fit of laughter and checked under my shirt to see if there was bleeding involved. Thankfully, I got out unscathed. Henry, shame on you. I guess it’s safe to say Henry is definitely not a fan of the behind.

Yes yes, I know. Christmas is at least three months away, but it looks like one of Santa’s elves has come out to play…

Henry tried on some pyjamas last night, as you can tell. A lot of people might get the impression that dressing dogs is silly and while for the most part, I whole heartedly agree, you have to take into consideration that small dogs, especially Maltese, because they don’t have an undercoat, get cold. So here he is, getting ready for the holiday season that is ever so quickly creeping up on us.

It has been about eight weeks and four days since Henry’s luxating patella surgery. I’m happy to report that for the most part, he’s doing very well. It’s almost as if he didn’t have surgery. He’s forgotten it, except when he’s taken outside early in the morning towards the cars parked in the driveway. I think he thinks he might be going back for more bandages and stitches.

There are times when I think I’ve seen him slightly lift one of his legs while running, although this could either be me worrying more than I should be, or just a normal part of the recovery process. His fur is growing back at a good rate, although he still looks like a lion in the front and a mouse from the back. One of the most important things that I do now is trim is pads, paws and nails frequently. Because we have hardwood floors, I want him to be able to grip the floor as easily as possible because the hair that grows between his pads might cause him to slip. Right now, he’s wrestling with an empty water bottle all around the house.

It’s been a long journey, and perhaps one of the most difficult things I’ve yet to experience in my life. I imagine I’ve experienced somewhat similar feelings of having a child recover from surgery. I know that might sound over the top and possibly an unfair comparison, but it’s something only dog lovers and owners can understand, especially people who own Maltese dogs.

Now that the surgery has been put more or less behind us, Henry and I have more important things to worry about. Like what he’s going to be for Halloween!

Last year was Henry’s first Halloween. Because of this, I wanted to make an extra special costume for him. I thought long and hard about what would be the best costume for an almost 1-year-old white ball of fluff and it came to me almost suddenly.

A gnome! I ended up making most of the costume out of felt, with the exception of his vest and belt, which was made out of Persian silk. It’s a shame that I hadn’t gotten Henry a year before, because I was Amelie two Halloweens ago, in tribute to my most favorite film.

Because of his costume, Henry even won second place at Etsy’s Halloween Costume Showcase! This year I have a couple of ideas for him. I’m strongly leaning towards Sherlock Holmes or some old timer like Benjamin Franklin or George Washington. We will see in a month’s time!

Today was a terrible day for traffic. I know that sounds redundant, but to give you an idea of how bad it was, I left my house at 7:40 a.m. and got to Santa Monica at 9:10 a.m. I doubt it will ease up before January, as school is in session and the holidays are coming up. One thing is for sure, if I can get Halloween off, I am. Last year, it took be three hours to get home. Three hours. THREE HOURS. I could have been in Mexico in that amount of time. Coming back home tonight was slightly better, if you consider an hour and 10 minute drive for 34 miles better. After doing this for almost a year, I would consider that a good day.

The heat is easing up. I was slightly “cold” while I drove this morning, a miracle in Los Angeles. I thought about how deeply I’m contemplating moving to Europe if I come upon news that John McCain has become  President, how annoying I find the names “Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac,” how much nicer the 405 would be without any cars on it and how badly I want a cup of tea and a blanket right at this moment.

It still ceases to amaze me why traffic exists. I’ve read the science behind it, yet I still don’t understand it. The roads don’t change. They don’t get smaller or bigger, so unless there is a major accident backing up cars, I don’t understand why people just can’t accelerate and drive. Don’t they want to be home soon? I don’t buy the excuse of too many cars being on the road because as I said, the roads always stay the same. The days are getting shorter and I am not looking forward to being stuck in traffic in the dark.

I made it home, as I do every day. All the stress of driving, the stupidity of Los Angeles drivers, all the unnecessary stops and gos, they all melt away when I get to my doorstep and a 6lb Maltese named Henry greets me like he hasn’t seen me in 10 years.

I woke up with a terrible headache this morning and when I took one look at Henry and saw how peacefully asleep he was, I knew I couldn’t get up, get dressed and fight the traffic to get to work. So I ended up staying home, nursing my head (and Henry) and cleaning my room up a bit. By the end of the day, I was feeling much better. It’s so nice to be home once in a while. My mind was so at ease. It was so nice being able to look outside at my garden, instead of the walls of the cubicle I sit in. It was so nice, that I decided to play photographer and took some photos of my usual subject, Henry.

Roaring white lion.