Bixby, the Wonder Dog

A true story.

Once, there was a dog at the Humane Society who was loved by all. They named him Bixby. One particular family fell in love with his sweet nature and sad, puppy-dog eyes that begged for a home. So they adopted him and gave him a home, much to the regret of many others who were considering adopting him. He hated living behind the bars amid the noise of so many barking and crying dogs and charmed any who seemed they could potentially rescue him from such a life. This time they came back. Timing is everything!

Bixby lived his life knowing that he was truly a huge personality lodged inside a small body, think of a chihuaua mixed with a fox. He barked loudest at the dog park, because he know he could take any of those big dogs on the other side of the fence; He was tough.

A visiting friend once joked that he wasn’t a real dog, but was more of a toy dog. Bixby knew he would prove them wrong. This friend came to visit once, and Bixby was let out of the door. He ran toward the visitor then across the street with the sudden urge to urinate. Once relieved, he ran back, only to run into a passing car. Being a small dog, he was under the car without catching a blow, except for a cosmetic plastic piece that hung down and dragged him a little. He squealed loudly, the car stopped, and Bixby got free!

To my shock, he ran toward me with renewed energy. I didn’t see what happened, but I heard the squeal of the tires and my dog’s startled scream. The driver had stopped, and he came out of the car with concern on his face, “Is he okay?” he asked. Bixby was running around the yard in excitement, so much going on! He didn’t even bark at the driver, who then asked, “Are you okay, little guy?” He reached down to pet the dog but Bixby was just running around excited, possibly on adrenaline. All I could notice was he had some fur that was coming off in one spot, and I touched it, but he gave no sign of pain.

My friend told me about what he saw and remarked, “You know, that is one benefit of being a little toy dog. If he was a large dog, he would have been struck down.” This little dog who earlier wanted to jump in my lap at the coming sounds of a thunderstorm was running around as if to brag surviving a car running over him…”Yeah, I survived, that’s right!” He needed to survive; it’s not time for him to go. We still need to be around to comfort each other.


In the Nineties. #poetry

mosaic alien on wall
Photo by Francesco Ungaro on

(c) Pamela Schloesser, 2019

It was the nineties,

I was young, and you were bold,

I just wanted to be told

How beautiful I was.

My brother skated, my mother worried,

And I tried not to seem so smart.


It was the nineties;

I just wanted to be cool

and I wanted to be pretty.

I married someone

who was the life of the party.

We were all about

Chinese takeout

and a thirteen inch t.v.

Californians were cooler than us

Moulder and Scully were

more interesting than us.

We’d finish our X-files and takeout

and sit on the back porch

watching for our own aliens.


I’d retreat to some Stephen King

you’d escape somewhere partying

with people cooler than I.

You’d always return,

whether I liked it or not;

I was home base.

Whether you walked straight or not

if you howled at the moon or not,

whether you were seeing two or three,

I was still home base.


Starting a family didn’t help.

Threatening to leave didn’t help.

It was the nineties and we were

just who we were.

But I didn’t like you interpreting

my place anymore.


It was nineteen ninety eight

and time to get things straight.

Growing up is important.

We do what we must do,

and it was time to acknowledge

that I couldn’t grow with you.


It was the late nineties

and I’d dashed your world,

split up our family, taken your son.

I was many horrible things

all rolled up into one.

But I walked on that broken glass

with a toddler in my hands

to freedom on the other side.


It was the nineties,

and then it no longer was.

A new millenium,

The crossing of a threshold.

I was thirty, and wise

but not at all old.

I look back, glad Iit’s in the past.

But still, I learn when I look back.

**The nineties were an important part of me, and such a very interesting decade on their own.  This timeframe has shown up in my writing, particularly in the book, Detours in Time.  You can find out about this book and series at  Thank you for stopping by, and I do hope you will return to my blog.  I offer a little bit of everything here.  Cheers!


M is for Mother. #AtoZChallenge


Mom in her youth, holding her baby brother.

“Mother,” by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

An icon of strength,

Mother paved the way for me,

Courage led by faith.


(c) 2017, All rights reserved

**The AtoZ Challenge theme for my blog is “Who I am.” Yes, it’s wide open.  In April, I will blog from A to Z to include little tidbits about me, poems I’ll share, and stories. Each day I will write something based on the next letter in the alphabet.  It’s been fun so far, yet it has really given me a chance to pause for reflection as well.

Want to know more about the A-Z blog challenge?  Visit




Stupid #&$t I Did When I Was Young…


Image courtesy of digitalart at

Go ahead, feel free to laugh with me.  I’m laughing, when my knee’s not aching.  Having lived as long as I have, I’ve got some good stories to tell.  This one’s about the time I caught a t.v. on my knee.  I’ve been working hard this summer on self-promotion as a self-published author, and on upcoming writing projects.  It feels like I’ve neglected my blog a little.  So, I’ve decided to add a regular Monday post for at least the next few weeks of the summer, all about various stupid things I did when I was young.  You’ll laugh, you’ll think, “Wow, I can’t believe she did that,”  you’ll cry….well, probably not.  This should be fairly light and fun, as I am poking fun at myself.  So, sit back and enjoy.

How heavy is a 27″ t.v.?  Too heavy for me to catch in my own two arms.  Especially the kind they made in the 1990s.  I know, because I’ve tried. It was in my early twenties, when I was working at a department store (whose name I won’t mention) selling t.v.s. A sales rep came in demonstrating his brand of TV.  It was in a tall console.  Well, he did something that made it start to slide forward, and I was right in front of it, while he was on the back end.  Instinctively, I put out my arms to keep it from crashing to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. When I realized that wouldn’t work, I got down on one knee, still holding up my arms. It was slowly sliding down, my arms had slowed it, but it landed on my knee, and two of my male co-workers were there to grab it at that point.

One of them said, “Pam’s the hero of the day!  I can’t believe you did that!”

Another said, “I would’ve just let it fall.  How’s your knee?”

I was in shock.  I couldn’t believe that had just happened, either.  Yeah, my knee was a little sore.  I think I did my best to catch it, worrying that letting it fall would result in glass from monitor hitting me in the face.  I don’t know.  I should’ve just run the other way.  Because, to this day, my knee sometimes really aches, especially if I wear pretty shoes or high heels, and if the weather is damp.  It’s not inevitable that it should ache, it was all from something stupid I did.

I normally, in social groups, sell this story as, “I have a bad knee because I once caught a t.v. on it.”  And people look at me strangely, with sudden interest.  Well, it’s true, I did.


%d bloggers like this: