Taking Stock......

Who among us is not taking stock on how 2009 went?  And, naturally, we view only the big picture.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, but life, and love, is made up of small pictures, tiny moments in time that build upon one another. 

In looking back I have more kisses I wish I'd given to give to Sidney, Kobe and Maddie.  Yet, I am thankful for all the kisses I did give them!  When I think back on all the times Kobe followed me, like a Whitehouse Secret Service agent,  into the bathroom I can't help but smile.  There was a time, when I thought I was dying from Mono, that he sat beside me while I worshiped at the porcelain throne.  In retrospect, he probably wondered why I didn't just get a sip of water while I was there like he did.  But he gently leaned against me and I knew I wasn't going to die alone.

There were hour and hours spent at the hospital (and the vet's office) this year, hours I would do again in a heartbeat.  Hours I wish had lasted longer for my sake only. There were lonely hours,  happy hours, and sleeping hours.   Not to mention a few hours of panic, some flashes of hindsight, some bouts of stupidity, some times of hilarity, and a couple splashes of brilliance.  There was church time (though not enough!), garden time, time cleaning up gifts left by the dogs.  There was thankfully,  work to go to and paychecks every other Thursday. 

Yes, there was laughter and sorrow.  Time with kids, times we felt like kids, times that we reflected on what it was like when we were kids.  There was garden time, waiting time, wondering time, time to say hello and goodbye. 

So here I am, taking stock and giving thanks - for all the little moments in my 2009 doggy dog world. 

Shades of Kobe

Kobe was what we call a Winter Grazer.  In a way that was a big help to me.  Kobe liked to graze among the frozen poopsicles in the yard.  So in a way he helped me clean the yard which in the winter was a Godsend.  Sometimes one must overlook slight character flaws for there is still much beauty to be found in that gentle heart.  Truth be told we all have some slight flaws like this.

Mr. Hanky brought back shades of Kobe the other night.  I mean this literally and figuratively!  Kobe would have been so proud of his lemon-headed friend.  Mr. Hanky had the audacity to run into the house with a frozen treat.  I understand the slight character flaw part of this episode.  I understand the cold weather and blizzard might have momentarily addled Hanks brains.  I understand he wanted in and quickly at that. 

But this is, and I'm offering a warning for ALL the dogs of the world, this is a major faux paw!  One must never, I repeat never bring frozen treats into the house.  Perhaps Kobe in his moments of nibbling bliss forgot to mention this rule to Hank.   Or, perhaps he deliberately didn't share this important tidbit of information.  If so, Kobe is still chuckling over this incident on the other side of the bridge. 

It was not a happy moment in the fold, but I'm thinking-hoping-praying it won't happen again.  Offending the Goddess of All That Is Good In Life is not recommended.   Leaving the treat when Mom said to is good, but hiding it for discovery later was not the best idea.  Oh yes, it was discovered!!  Perhaps you heard the roof raise momentarily?  Followed by a certain four-letter word.  Yes, it began with S and ended with T. 

They say it happens, and I agree.  Happy shades of Kobe, hilarious escapades of Hanky.  Fair warning for all the others - outside grazing while gross, is always better than inside grazing. 

Merry Kissmutts

Wish I could say I thought up the word - Kissmutts, but my honest self says I have to tell the truth, I borrowed it off a card.

It is a Christmas to remember, mostly because Mother Nature has wrapped us in snow and drifted us closed.  When we were little we had some blizzards.  We were shorter then, so the drifts appeared 4 ft tall.  Now I hear some are 4 ft tall and it's still snowing and blowing. Plus this is our second blizzard in one year.  Definitely a record in my book.   I am torn between longing for a "normal" Christmas and celebrating the solitude of this one.  More than likely we won't budge from the house. 

Last night Reno grilled steaks in the snow.  It's a personal challenge for him to grill in any weather.  He and his Weber grill make beautiful meals together, and last night was no different.  My Dad would have loved him for just this reason! 

I think only one of my boys will be out today, and that's because he's plowing snow.  Not sure we'll see him, but he's out there.  A boy and his plow is almost as endearing as a boy and his dog.

And the dogs?  My happy little (or not so little) Kissmutts.  Hank has been standing at the back door watching for the squirrel in the tree.  Such diligence, such patience, such a silly Mr. Hanky.  They have both made mad dashes out in the yard and reported back in record time.  They know how to kick back and relax, so I'll try to take some lessons from them.

So from our house to yours.....may your heart be glad and may you have a Merry Kissmutts. 

Little Gifts

Each of my siblings and our kids are getting a small gift from my Mom this Christmas.  Technically, it's from me, but in another way it's straight from my Mom.

In cleaning out her house we founds stacks, piles, folders, envelopes, books, trays, and boxes with clipped out recipes and cleaning tips.  Obviously, she had a lot more cooking and cleaning to do.  All of us have gotten her cooking genes.  I, however, was out-of-town on the day they passed out cleaning genes. 

I've prepared 13 envelopes each containing some recipes Mom hand wrote, recipes she clipped out, and some cleaning tips.  I think our mission is to try at least one recipe in her honor.  Any of the cleaners are welcome to my cleaning tips as I probably won't need them.

It's a little gift, a little remembrance, a little memory and a little way to help clean out the house.  Of course it shows what a pack rat I tend to be, but at least I'm sharing the wealth.  It helps to know she's still with us and she's cooking up a storm.

Just Yesterday

Wasn't it just yesterday we were getting ready for Thanksgiving?  Remember when we said I'll think about that after Christmas?  And that time seemed very far away.  Well, it's almost Christmas and those other things are looming ahead.  In other words time flies.

Boy howdy does it fly.  I remember nursing my first son by the light of the Christmas tree. He's 26 now!   I remember nursing my second son by the light of the Christmas tree.  I remember all the Christmas' I read the story the Life and Adventures of Santa Claus to the kids.  I remember the Christmas I spent in a cast because of a badly broken ankle.  I remember the year the tree fell down because of  operator error on the tree stand.  I remember the year the tree fell down thanks to the shenanigans to a certain pointer and a certain dobe.  Names withheld to protect the guilty.  I remember the year I decided to leave my mistle toe up permanently, and love came back into my life.  It's still up, I'm not taking any chances. 

And it was just today that Mickey and I did pet therapy with a certain Reindog named Jack.  Now, Mick is always Mr. Decorum and Jack is always comic relief.  They make a great pair.  Although I will say a goofy golden retriever with antlers is way more entertaining the a staid English Gentleman.  Perhaps Jack envy's Mick's mild mannered appearance.  I'm certain Mick admires his hooligan friend Jack.  Either way they are awesome.

So there you are...a little trip down memory lane...and two dogs making holiday visits at the hospital.  May you find time this week for happy memories of yesteryear, and create some new ones as well.  Remember time flies, may it fly like two happy souls with tails a wagging. 

Hank The Hambone

Mr. Hanky is one of the sweetest guys on earth.  As well as one of the biggest dufus boys in the world.  He has come a long way since we picked him up last April and brought him into the fold.

Knocking on wood that we have not had significant changes in his cancer, but loving each day with him for what it is.  Usually it's a hoot.  When we rearranged the furniture to make way for the tree Hank rearranged how he mogates the living room too.  Gotta love his willingness to adapt.  Of course, adapting has included scrambling over the top of the coffee table once and hurdling over the back of the sofa like it was indoor agility equipment.  Then there are the moments when wagging pointer tails whank the ornaments on the tree and mass clanking can be heard.  Luckily, or because hindsight is 20/20, we only hang the unbreakables near the bottom of the tree.

Last night he was like the angelic child sleeping blissfully on the sofa.  Head on the pillow, blanket keeping him warm and snug.  Blissful in his repose, all shades of handsome peacefulness.  Why is it one can rarely photograph those moments?  Holding a camera in front of a sleeping dog is like hot gluing a milk bone to your forehead - certain to get noticed!

I tried to capture the Kodak moment, but what I got was more in keeping with Hank's true personality.  Perhaps that is for the best.  I think I prefer the reality of Hank the Hambone more than a fleeting moment of rest.  Even goofballs need to rest up for their escapades.

Men Who Sing

This about pure unadulterated joy.  Much like life with dogs.  Similar to happy tails just wagging to beat the band.

We have a friend who sings with the Pathfinders Chorus from Fremont, NE.  They are a men's A Cappella chorus.  Until last evening we had never heard them perform.  But I have to tell you I have new respect for men who sing.  Most of us, perhaps all of us, would love to sing.  Some of us sing only in the car, or the shower for obvious reasons.  Others will sing in church, but only because that is one place you will be forgiven for being a less than harmonious singer.  Enthusiasm will only get you so far.  There are times, though, that enthusiasm and lack of talent will still get you shot at sundown. 

But, and there is always a but,  these guys more than make up for those of us who missed out on singing talent.  They sing for the love of singing and in doing so honor the gift of voice they've been given.  It was incredible.  Even partying with them at the bar afterwards they broke into song.  Everything stopped in that moment which is exactly as it should be.

Such a reminder to stay in those moments that bring joy.  Be they moments of joy with small children, with our beloved pets, our families, our passions......and definitely in those moments with men who sing.

It's a Wonderful Life

There is a customer I see in the store quite regularly.  His name is one in the same as the actor in the old movie It's A Wonderful Life.  Those of you who are old enough will know who I mean.  He positively beams when he says what his name is.

He comes in to buy marbles and flat gems to decorate bowling balls with.  So it probably goes without saying he's a retired man with a hobby.  Not everyone can see the beauty in an old bowling ball covered with marbles, but he does.  He's quite proud of them.  Plus it makes a pretty solid yard ornament.  Hail and wind proof which is good in Nebraska.

He was waiting for me when I got to work today to show me his, ahhemmmm, balls.  He had a dozen of them in his pick-up truck in a specially made rack to display/transport them in.  He was delivering three of them today.  I can't remember the last time I saw someone so proud of his balls. 

Here is the deal, I don't know this guys story, but I know the delight he takes in his hobby.  In a world that is often jaded and discouraging there are not enough men like him.  He found a mission in life, and made it his passion. 

He'd probably be the first to tell you it's a wonderful life.  I'd like to be the second. 

Nine Days and Counting

On the  last of Christmas my two dogs gave to me.....one pointer pointing, two retrievers fetching, three lap dogs lounging, four doxies yapping, five beagles baying, six sheepdogs herding, seven shelties sitting, eight german shepards guarding, nine poodles pouncing, ten terriers terrorizing, eleven pugs a wheezing and a pomeranian on a pillow. 

Okay, so it's not the last day of Christmas, but it's getting too close.  Frankly, I I'd like to go back to mid-September and proclaim a redo.  I'm not ready for Christmas, and I'm definitely not ready for the year to end.  I have some things bought and mostly nothing wrapped.  As far as decorations.....we have the tree up and I used the Christmas leash when we did pet therapy yesterday.  How's that for being organized?

I've envious of people with holiday cards with pictures of their pets on them.  I like that idea, and maybe some day I'll be organized enough to do that. I did see a card that said "we deck our halls with bones and balls".  Ain't that the truth!   I do have ornaments on the tree for each of the dogs, including foster dogs too. They hang at the bottom of the tree in case an errant tail takes a whack at them, they are not breakable.

So as we come down the home stretch may I give the following advice (like you can stop me).  Give lots of treats.  Woof with excitment.  Take naps if you are tired.  Wag your tail (even you two footed beings out there).  Break out in song when the mood moves you.  Enjoy the preparations.  Anticipate.  Take time to listen.  Take time to love. Reach out to the needy, give thanks and celebrate.

Woof.

Warm Hearts

Mick is my pet therapy dog.  I have always said if he could drive to the hospital himself I'd be dispensible.  The dogs hold all the magic, I just hold the leash.  The staff adores the therapy dogs, and that warms my heart.

I can't count the times I've been told how fabulous he is, what a perfect gentleman, how quiet, well mannered, obedient.  The Mom in me has to laugh.  The pointer owner in me knows better.  Oh yes, I laugh hardest when I go to bed at night with a blanket that resembles swiss cheese because said perfect gentleman has gnawed a perfect hole in it.  Mind you, he's a crafty blanket biter for sure.  I have yet to catch him in the process.  But, I love him just the same, and am glad in public he represents the breed and our therapy organization well. 

So today with the temps in the single digits and lots of salt on the ground from freezing mist the other day, I opted to use the valet parking.  Usually we park in the garage and leave the valet parking for those with greater need.  But, the potential for lots of salt on the ground gave me flashbacks to the time it hurt Mick's paws so much he quit walking and I had to carry him back to the car.  I wasn't game to do that again.

So we waited just inside the building while the valet went to fetch the car.  It was drafty and cold with the doors opening and closing in the busy building.  Pointers don't have much of a coat for cold weather, and a surprising ability to nearly shiver their ticking off.  So there is Mick, in full pathetic shivering mode.  Before you could say "baby it's cold outside" one of the patient escorts was hustling off to get him a warm blanket.  No one asked if I was cold, but truthfully I did have a decent coat on. 

So there was Mickey, swaddled in a warm blanket that was large enough to wrap a horse in.  He will no doubt expect that treatment each visit now.  But, it warms my heart to know the staff cared enough to warm my dog up.  Thank God he didn't leave a hole in their blanket like he does mine.  His reputation remains unsullied and he was well loved.

Hope

Some of us forget to hope.  Some of us doubt hope.  Some of us doubt ourselves and in the process dash our hopes.  Hope is like the nose of the dog that gently prods us for attention.  Hope is like the nose of the dog that frantically prods us for attention.  Hope is like the nose of the dog that pokes it's ice cold nose against our warm and unsuspecting belly.  It's always there.  It's persistent.  It's hard to ignore (mostly).  Perhaps that nose the nudges us is divine motivation.  Couldn't we all use more of that.

Case in point, I've "known" forever I'm going to write a book.  Doubt has kept me from moving forward.  Doubt keeps many people from moving forward and trusting that the unknown outcome will totally be blessed.  We use excuses.....I don't want to fail again, the time is not right, it's too much work, I don't know what to say, I want to do something really grand but never actually try to do that, I don't know what to write about, I don't know how.  Uggghhhh!!! 

So, back to the nose the nudges you.  Believe in it.  Welcome it.  Trust it.  Follow it.  Acknowledge it.  And if all else fails pet it. 

It's Beginning to Look....

.......a lot like Christmas.  Which is good because if we wait much longer we'll miss it.

We began yesterday moving one chair to make room for the Christmas tree.  Well, it rather snowballed from there.  One chair, then two chairs, then the coffee table, Hank's crate, the other chair, the secretary desk,  the sofa, the pathetic looking ponytail palm and the area rug.  Then we got cleaning spots on the carpet, which then led to vacuuming the vertical blinds.  And, then things had to be rearranged in the basement to make room for things from the front room.  It was a long process, but eventually the tree was placed.....phfewwww.

It was suggested Hank's crate go down the basement too.  We used to have all the crates down there, but I've grown accustomed to the look of one in the front room.  I just couldn't do it.  Of course, he's rarely in it when I'm home, but I couldn't bare to move it.

When the tree lighting began we saved a string for Hank's crate.  Last year Sidney had twinkle bulbs on his crate.  This year Hank has the fishing bobber string of lights on his crate.  Very festive.  It seems a new traditon has begun.  I need to find a string of lights that looks like Milk Bones for next year.  If anyone sees one please let me know.

I think tonight we'll actually decorate the tree.  Yes, I know others have had their tree up since Thanksgiving, we just aren't one of those families.  In January I'll go to market and buy all the Fall/Christmas items for next season.  For someone who shops 12 months out for the next season you'd think I wouldn't be scrambling to do my own tree. 

All I can say is better late than never.  Perhaps my goal next year is to get the dog crate decorated right after Thanksgiving.  That way I can baby-step my way to Christmas.   Wonder what that would be like?  I'll probably never know.  I seem to be more suited to scrambling, rushing, dashing, galloping, racing, darting, sprinting and hustling my way through the season.  What can I say - it's just the way I am.

Hand-Me-Downs....

What was better than a wealthy Aunt & Uncle with a daughter about one year older than you?  Not much, that meant a steady supply of sweet hand-me-downs.  Of course the flip side was a bag full of hand-me-downs of slightly shabby clothing that really wasn't any help at all.  Goodies like that could be a blessing, or a challenge to our level of gratitude.

Mr. Hanky was the benefactor of some hand-me-downs.  It's seems Manny the Greyhound had a lovely (and warm) coat in his wardrobe that just was too small for him.  He also received a white pull-over sweater with a shamrock on it.  I think the sweater is best suited in size to a corgi than either Micky or Manny.  Although I would have like to see them try to wrestle Manny into that sweater just once - lol.   Over the dog years,  I've shared Gentle Leaders, crates, collars, bones, baby gates, and all sorts of canine supplies.  But I've never gotten coats for my pups.  Although, once I altered a sweatshirt for Mr. Mickey.  He and I both agreed I did not miss a calling as a seamstress.  There were multiple issues, both in engineering and production on that idea.  Getting it on him was best described as mission impossible.

So, luckily for us, Manny had a coat he couldn't use.  And lucky for Hank, Manny's Mom takes good care of me.  So now we own a lovely red dog coat.  Real dogs say they don't wear coats, just like real men don't eat quiche.  But, I know one pointer who was toasty warm in that lovely red coat today,

You gotta love dog owners.  They will give you the coat off their dog's back.  Hand-me-downs, hand-me-ups, hand-me-overs.....all ways to help one another.  Now doesn't that just give you warm fuzzies.   And if anyone knows an Irish Corgi that needs a St. Paddy's day sweater I have just the one for them....

I'ts A Good Day to.......

Temp. 5 degrees, 10" of fresh snow, wind chill -17.  It's a good day to stay inside and write those holiday cards.  It's a good day to give thanks for the roof over our head, and that the utility bill is paid.  It's a good day to cook, quilt, read, nap, write, bake, nap again, listen to the quiet.

It's not a good day to be a dog with a thin coat.  Mr. Hanky stood just outside the door and whined as he peed on the bushes.  I don't blame him, I'd do the same if I had to go outside.  Luckily my boys know the comforts of warm blankets, good food and gentle hands.  Many dogs do not, heck some people do not.

Warmth and safety mean many things to many people.  On the freezing cold days of life may you have a warm heart, a warm dog, or two or three, warm thoughts, warm hands (or keep the cold ones to yourself), warm feelings, a warm place to sleep, a hot meal, and don't forget your hat.  Most of our body heat is lost out of the top of our heads, most of a dog's body heat is lost through their ears and pads of their feet.  Most of our love is lost when our heart is closed.

So, today and always bundle up to stay warm, give a pet a second chance, open up to stay loved.  And being thankful never hurts either.

Dear Santa

I'm writing today because I know you can relate.  We are expecting 7-9 inches of snow today and it feels like the North Pole out there.

It's that time of year again, but I'm having a little trouble getting into the spirit.  Basically it's been a rough year full of personal losses and financial challenges.  So while I know down the road I'll be a better person for these experiences right now it's weighing heavy on my heart. 

At this point you're probably thinking I should be writing to the big guy upstairs rather than to the fat man at the North Pole.  In a way you are one in the same.  You are both about believing, magic and surprises. You are both about looking forward not back.  You both encourage us to open our hearts.  You are both definitely totally about gifts.

I also know, compared to others, my losses have been small.  But frankly, I miss my Mom and am sad we let so many issues keep us from being close.  I miss Sidney, Kobe and Maddie.  Hank still looks for those other bowls to clean after eating.  Maddie and Kobe generally left some goodies and Hank was more than willing to clean up. 

Money has been a worry even when I know we have so much more than some people.  I  shouldn't even mention that, because I don't want to jinx us, or be ungrateful. 

Lest you think this is a pity party I'm having, please know it's not.  We have our health, the 3 "f's" (faith family and friends), a roof over our head and infinite talents.  I'm not writing to ask for things, but to be able to give during the holiday season and all the other seasons of life. 

I am asking for a liberal dose of Ho-Ho-Ho and Merry Christmas.  I'm asking for Joy to the World.  And some Fa-la-la-la-la wouldn't hurt either.  I'm longing for some Go Tell It On The Mountain, some Mary Did You Know and some Allelulia. 

And, last but not least, Santa, I've been good, really good.  Well, except when I was being bad.  But I know you are a forgiving soul.  So perhaps you could provide a little magic and wonder for my heart, so I can pay it forward to others. 

One other thing, Santa......should I leave milk and cookies?  Or would you prefer Scotch on the rocks.  A little indulgence can be a good thing sometimes. 

Mending

So much mending, so little time.  Mending fences, mending pants, mending relationships, mending hearts, mending souls, mending rips, tears, breaks, holes.

All this came to mind as I mended a pocket for Reno.  I think we are constantly in a state of mending.  It is as much a part of our life as breathing.  Some mending requires just a Snoopy bandaid, some require layers of sutures, some a little knot of faith and some love to glue it together.

The dogs are a great salve to my life.  They mend me daily.  Some have just one pet who does the mending.  Others of us, in rescue, have a revolving door of dogs that help us.  By giving them a second chance, we give ourselves a chance to remember what has value, what refreshes, what joy we can give just by extending ourselves.

Is there a greater gift than to help someone, or something mend?  They say we are strongest in our broken places, but that is thanks to the ability to mend.  Wishing you mending moments, and a beloved pet to lead the way.

Life Goes On

Life goes on in my doggy dog world.  We may be down to two dogs here, but Hank and Mick create enough excitment to make up for it. 

Hank has one speed only, that would be full speed ahead.  Unless he knows it's cold outside.  I'm not sure how he'll do in the snow.  We may have to resort to a catch and release program.  First you catch Hank, then you physically escort him out the door. 

Mickey showed his hunting prowess tonight by trying to run in the back door with a semi-alive bunny in his mouth.  Thankfully he knows the "DROP IT" command.  He was pretty proud.  Ten minutes later he went out again, and found the same bunny that Reno had moved to safety, or so we thought.  This time Mickey tried to bring Mr. BunBun in the front door.  He looked pretty cute, and Hank just looked on in amazement.  I tried to get some photo's, but one pointer with a bunny is tow wiggles too much for the camera.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So again, the "DROP IT" command, and Mick does release.  Gotta  love that dog!!  He lays it down on the porch and steps carefully over it to come in the house.  This time the bunny received full rights of passage and disposal.  Not by me, thankfully!!

So life goes on.  Sometimes its catch and release, sometimes we catch and catch again.  Sometimes releasing brings sweet relief.  For a hunting dog it was a red letter day.  For me, it was amusing and distressing, but not as much as for Mr. Bunbun - RIP you wascally wabbit.

Foster Needs

Our "foster needs" list is always too long.  There is always another dog, or two or three, or more, needing that golden opportunity called a foster home.  Sure, you think, I "need" another dog in the house like I "need" a hole in the head.  I promise fostering is more fun than that! 

Can I ask a blunt question?  What are YOU waiting for?  Sure it's the holidays, sure it takes some work, sure it involves opening your heart to a big unknown.  What's your point? 

As the year ends we always take stock of how our life went over the last 12 months or so.  We look ahead to big changes, new beginnings, "do overs" so to speak.  Who wouldn't like some second chances? That is what working in rescue, and in particular fostering, gives us.

Hank is our current foster.  He's a permanent foster, so I admit to a little envy watching adoption applications come in and dog's going to their forever home.  Perhaps I'm envious because I know how awesome Hank is, but I also recognize that with his cancer he is not very adoptable.  But, and there is always a but, he is totally lovable, in a high energy, happy-go-lucky, semi-dufus Mr. Hanky kind of way. I wouldn't trade this time with Hank for anything.  His second chance enhances our life every single day.

Open your heart, open your door, your pocket book (hey, I'm a realist here!) to fostering.  The second chances you get in the process are amazing, and the second chances you give are priceless.

St Francis, St. Therese of Lisieux, the Madonna and Pete

Or, you lead and I'll follow.

About 18 months ago our foster dog Pete moved to the Big Apple.  Up 'til then I'd never been there, didn't know anyone there, didn't even have thoughts of going there.  Pete changed all that.  Dog will do that to you.  They slip into a crack in your heart and presto chango life takes you in a new direction.

Now I can say I've been there, and I have friends there.  So when my NY friend said one of his friends NY friends was coming to Omaha the plan was made to perhaps pop in and say hi to her.  Well, the fact that she sells jewelry, and I like jewelry kind of sealed the deal.  Let me rephrase this, I make jewelry, she sells jewelry.  I dabble in beading, she sells jewelry in really nice stores.  She knows Wayne, I know Wayne - it's all good.

She makes jewelry from antique and vintage religious medals.  Very cool.  Refreshing to see icons like this adorning people rather than tucked away lost and forgotten in a jewelry box somewhere.  I chose two for my necklace, St. Therese, the patron saint of florists, and the Madonna.  Not the singer Madonna, but the other really popular one.  The third medal came with this new friend specifically because my old NY friend told her of my recent losses.  The third medal is that of St. Francis of Assisi, patron saint of animals.  St. Francis is absolutely, totally and blessedly appropriate for my doggy dog world.

Like I say, its funny where dogs will take you.  When my new NY friend ask how I knew our mutual NY friend, I used Pete as a reference.  I like to think some of my best references are the dogs.  Pete of  "Liver Treats OMG Liver Treats" fame has taken my life on another journey, one that includes my favorite saints, and other untold blessings.    

RIP - I think not....

The phrase 'rest in peace' has been rubbing me wrong all week.  It's not what I want for Kobe and Maddie.  Don't get me wrong, it's not that I want them to be suffering at all.  But, anyone who owns dogs knows peace may not be what they are best at. 

I want Kobe to be free of the arthritis that made him so gimpy, so he can chase tennis balls and chew the fuzz right off them.  I want him to be able to climb onto soft warm beds, on the other side of the bridge, to nap on a pillow top in the sunshine.  I want him to feel good enough to be a wee bit naughty.  I want his tail to thump nonstop like it used to.

I want Maddie to run full tilt after the balls.  And, I pray there is a ball thower in heaven who's arm never gets tired.  Let her swim in ponds and have pillows all to herself.  Let her be a puppy again, surrounded by her kids.

If there is peace involved, let it come to me and  may it be peace of mind.  Let the joy of being a dog, as God so wonderfully created them, be their reward.  May treats rain from the sky, and sunshine warm their days.  And please, Lord, may they watch over me until we meet again.

Sentimental Journey

As we were washing the china after Thanksgiving dinner tonight, I wondered aloud how many dinners had been served over the years on my Great Grandmother's china.  I'm guessing I've served on it for at least 30 years.  Yes, it takes a little more work to hand wash them, but to me it's worth it.  Things that require an investment of your heart always are.

We feasted like kings and feel as sated as Humpty Dumpty right now.  Luckily we ate so much none of us have the energy to climb up to sit on any walls.  It's been a tough holiday, and yet, we are lucky indeed.  We've had many losses, but our blessings continue to exceed them. 

I admit to getting weepy during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and the dog show that followed.  I'm just like that, sentimental and soft hearted.  At times these tendencies don't serve me well in life.  But, as Popeye said "I yam what I yam".

Come Christmas the litter of lab puppies my Granddog sired will arrive.    I suppose that will make me a Great Grandmother of sorts.  New life and new journeys always make me misty.  That is another part of loving, making room for new beginnings. 

I know that my Mother, Sidney, Maddie and Kobe would all encourage me to shed the tears and then to love again.  I too, know it's only a matter of time until another sentimental journey begins for me. 

Thanksgiving

To say I have learned more about love from the dogs than from anyone, or anywhere else would be the gospel truth.

If that isn't cause for thanksgiving I don't know what is.  God created Dog and it was good.  I've been learning ever since I opened my heart to that first one.  A wee bit of fluff in the shape of a lab named Abby.  Then there was a dobe named Fancy, then Mickey.  Then the fosters began.  Then love found it's way from Reno to Omaha bringing with him a little springer girl named Maddie. 

It took a dog with a funky lip to teach me what handsome was.  I've always said Kobe was all I wanted in a man, well, except for the lip issue.  He was loyal, gentle, devoted, amusing, faithful and a prince.  He had scars, fractures and arthritis from life before gentle hands became the norm.  But it didn't change his sweet disposition.

Therein lies the key.  Life is not kind at times, this week bears that out.  We are bruised, fractured and hurting.  Yet, an old dog who knew pain and scars from barbed wire offers us a valuable lesson.  Love with all your Kobe heart.  Trust, believe, know that there are gentle hands to sustain you.  Be faithful, be loyal, worry not about funky lips.  You are perfect just the way you are. 

And while I struggle with these losses I am also graced with these truthes.  Without dogs I would be no where near the person I am today.  With dogs I am closer to being the best I can be.  They lead the way, and happily I follow.

No Way

There is just no way to say goodbye to beloved pets twice in one week.  I cannot fathom it, even though I'm living it.

First Kobe, now Maddie.  The ultimate joy of loving them also brings the ultimate pain of letting them go.  It's why some people refuse to love again.  I hear them say "oh, it's too hard, I won't do it again".  And I say no way.   

I would not give up the joy of tossing the ball for Maddie, or the eeeww factor when she'd prance back with the slobbery ball.  I would not miss the comfort of her snuggling into the curve of my back at night, although a few times I admit the warmth was unbearable.  I would never choose to miss helping an old dog up or down the stairs because some day I would hurt because of their passing.  For every time I scrubbed carpets,  cleaned up dog hair, scooped poop or spent close to my last dime on them I received a thousand times more unconditional love then I've ever been able to give.  Why would anyone miss out on an opportunity like that????

So, yet again, we release a gentle soul to the heavens.  Yet again, we find a place in the garden to bury a special friend.  Again, we cry.  Because we loved, and because we will love again.

RIP Prince Kobe and Maddie Sooner Simmonds.  You were well loved.

Prince Kobe

I know dogs don't have living wills and medical directives.  But, they depend on us to act as if they do.  Kobe and I had a deal and today I held up my end of the bargain.
There is a medical phrase called palliative care.  In the "we love our pets like life itself" world let me redefine that.  "Pal" = best friend, buddy, beloved companion.  Palli - "ative" sounds like part of the word relative, except that my canine pals are closer to me than some of my relatives.

Therefore, in my doggydog world palliative care means never letting my dogs suffer.  Kobe had plenty of suffering in his life before Pointer Rescue.  He had the worst of worlds and then the best of worlds.  He was not defeated by the worst and thrived in the best.

So when a major health crisis presented itself I knew which road I had to take.  Yes, we could have challenged the veterinary world and it's technology to buy a little more time.  But my time with Kobe was best spent in comfort and joy not suffering.

In the end, it is better to say I love you and softly release a gentle soul to the heavens.  It was a promise I both made and kept for Prince Kobe. 

Issues

It seems to be the year of issues.  Personal, health, canine, financial, remedial, employment, plumbing.  You name it - we've had it.  Of late we've had eating issues with the dogs.  Maddie won't eat, Kobe is picking and choosing....mostly choosing not to eat much.  Mick and Hank will clean up after everyone.  How accomodating.

I guess I need to remember that Kobe and Maddie are the seniors here.  Maddie is 9 1/2, and Kobe is older than dirt.  In fact, I think sometimes the line should read "...and in the beginning God created Kobe, and it was good"  after that He created the earth.  First things first you know.  And then also the line from Ash Wednesday "remember dog that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Losing one of the dogs has been on my mind a lot recently.  With Kobe I can't ask anything more of him.  He puts mortals to shame with his forgiving heart and gentle nature.  He and I sat on the bathroom floor today.  Heart to heart, communing our love for each other.  I'm not sure who was leaning on who, but together we propped each other up.

And Miss Maddie - still worries us so.  More tests on Monday, she has gone a week without eating.  If only they could talk to us.  Tell us what hurts, tell us what doesn't feel good.  Tell us what sounds good to eat.  Tell us why it's so hard to pill you.  Lordy I about have to tuck the pills clear down to your toes little girl!!

So we wait.  For answers to the questions, for resolutions to the problems, for peace from the worries. Still, in the worry of the moment, thanksgiving for two wonderful dogs.  One male, one female who fill our hearts with joy.

Immobilizing Fears of Succeeding

Most of us have fears.  Okay, perhaps that is an understatement.  All of us have fears.  The key is not that we have them.  The key is whether or not we let them imprison us.

All of this comes from a dialog we had.  Trouble is my best thoughts come later.  I never think quick enough on my feet to make valid points when needed.  I wonder why that is.  Wouldn't it be nice to offer that profound wisdom in the middle of the discussion?  My best Ah-ha moments come later.  So then they feel less valid.  Temper that with remembering that feelings are not facts.  .

I know God put Reno and I together for a specific reason.  Maybe it was comic relief as surely He laughs at us daily.  Who else could take on person brimming with tendencies toward impatience, and another person steeped in procrastination, put them together and challenge them to grow their love. 

I can just visualize Him snickering at us.  He must be saying "Nancy, my child  good things come to those who wait".   And then in his Fatherly gentle voice, "Reno. my son the waters fine, jump in".  And the dogs, who are so God-like in their ability to embrace life without the fears we create, no doubt woof in laughter too. 

I can only trust, which some days is easier than others, that His will is for us to keep moving towards a better us.  Our fears are also our greatest opportunities.  And success has many definitions.

$hit Happens

There are days in a multi dog household that you start the day cleaning up $hit and you end the day cleaning up $hit.  Praise the Lord there are Bissell Carpet Cleaners.  If only the dogs could tell you when their tummy's hurt.  But, no, you have to guess which one has the intestinal issue.  Just when you think you know the culprit a surprise pile is left and the previously suspect dog has been crated the whole time.

The good thing is that this doesn't happen often.  But on days like this I'd love to just hose down the floor, use a squiggee on it and call it good.  I've also noticed they do tend to gravitate towards lighter carpet when they have to express themselves.  Perhaps they want to make sure we see it when we wake up, or come home. They strive for the ultimate in color contrast.   Face it if no one notices it's not much of a surprise. 

What causes this?  It could be anything, it could be nothing, but there is definitely something and it's right there on the carpet.  I can't be mad at them if I'm not there to prevent it from happening.  Truthfully, all of us has wondered at one time or another if we were going to make it to the stool in time.  The dogs 'stool' just takes up a much larger area. 

That's life with dogs, or pets, or kids, even sometime with adults.  $hit happens......you clean it up, and life goes (no pun intended) on. 

It's all a Blur

This time of year it all becomes a blur.  Oh wait, it seems the whole year has been that way.  A few days ago it was Nov. 1st.  Now it's nearly the 15th.  I've worked eleven days straight, but will have most of tomorrow off.  Then it's another busy week.

Why is this of interest?  Because when things get nutso like this I especially need the dogs to ground me.  They show me how to slow down and relax even when I struggle to do so.  They don't get their fur all in a knot because of the merry go round of life.  They soften the stress in my shoulders and ease my face into a smile.  Sure I see the chiropracter, and sometimes get a massage. I love both these activities.  But none of those things heal me like the dogs do.

Lately Maddie has been horking - alot.  I think in children it's called vomitting.  But the noise dogs make when they upchuck definitely needs a special name.  Horking fits the bill.  She's not eating well either, so we're a bit worried.  She see's the vet Monday to try to figure out what's going on with her. 

Kobe sets the world record in canine napping, with a special emphasis on snoring.  Ancient, spry, crotchety and semiconscious all come to mind with Prince Kobe.  Not a bad way to live life.  He still gets excited about food and his Mommy, so it's all good.

Hank was confused today when I took Maddie downstairs to kennel up when I went out.  Hank went right in with her and then looked confused.  Hey?  What is she doing in here?  She looked at Hank the exact same way!   The expression on her face clearly said "beat it bonehead, this is where the Princess resides". 

Last but not least is Mr. Mickey.  He is handsome personified, or would that be dogified?  Unflappable as a therapy dog, total dufus at home.  It's not easy being that diverse, but Mick nails it. 

So as the month flies by, I give thanks for the dogs.  Without them I'd be lost.

Catalog Shopping

People used to window shop.  Me?  I'm a catalog shopper.  Not a catalog buyer, just a shopper.  And, I must say it, I am sometimes overcome with envy at the "lives" portrayed in catalogs.

Yesterdays mail brought an awesome dog catalog.  I am amazed at dogs who are able to sit, or lie still for a photograph, while posed on a lovely microfiber top of the line dog bed.  They look perfect.   The dog beds, out of this world!!  Oh!  If I had one that nice I'd crawl into it at night when the dogs are in our bed. 

Plush, soft, cozy, warm beds, blankets, coats for our four footed friends.  I'm not saying that some dogs don't live quite happily that way, just not mine!  For one of mine it's just not a blanket unless it has a hole in it.  I can imagine what he'd do with a bolstered, cushioned, padded fleecy bed.  Not to mention the stuffing on the inside.

So I look at the pin-up dogs and the lovely bedding shown in the perfect world of catalog life.  I say awwww at the puppies and the senior's in the photographs.  I know I've got dogs who, if they could sit and not wag their tail at the same time, are catalog handsome. 

And, because I'm a generous person by nature, I'd be happy to test some of those beds for durability and comfort.  I promise not to chew on them, but I can't speak for my dogs.

The Ridiculous in the Sublime

Or the Sacred in the ordinary. Your choice. Either saying depicts life to the "t".

Take Hank for example. He has amazing talents. And yet, he is a social moron in the bedroom. Recently, in his vertical jump at the front door frenzy, he actually rang the door bell several times. I have to laugh at the four dogs at the door, barking because Mr. Hanky rang the bell. Helloooo.....you all are at the door...you guys are barking at yourselves.

Then too, Hank managed to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock while wagging his tail in bed yesterday. He is smarter than your average bear, and as silly as a pointer can be. I know that was unintentional, because his goal in life is to see that I never get to sleep in late.

Then too, for a dog with cancer he is everything one could hope for. Reno says he'll live until he's 11 or 12. I pray he's right.

Whoever let him go, or lost him, or just plain abandoned him? You are an idiot. You are missing out on something very special. You're missing out on Life with Hank.....ridiculous....sublime....hilarious.....ordinary....and very much sacred.

Over Night

It has been a long time since I've had the opportunity to assist in a transport. For those who don't know, in the world of animal rescue, a transport is a group of volunteers who move an animal across country by each taking a leg of the drive. Finding volunteers to fill a run is always a challenge. Legs are usually about an hour long one way. Sometimes a trucker will take an animal the whole distance. Most transports are one day long. But other are several days, including overnights along the way. Coordination is phenomenal, and critical. But the pay off (not cash by the way) is incredible.

The most we've chauffeured in one run was 4 dogs. The most memorable was the dog that was moved across country to be reunited with it's owner who left the state to escape domestic violence. Talk about getting warm fuzzy's for participating in that one! We've driven legs to pick up fosters, we've driven legs just for the sake of helping.

A few time's we had the dog overnight to help with a longer run. We have that opportunity coming up later this month. Sugar Foot is being moved from San Diego to Minnesota. I wonder if anyone has told her about the climate change? Due to a heavy work schedule I can't drive any of her legs. But we can let her spend the night with us.

I can't imagine how bizarre a transport seems to the animal being moved. Every hour or so they are passed into the loving hands of the next driver. Then a random night in a strange house. Then back to the relay from driver to driver until they reach that final destination of either the foster or forever home.

It's funny how much difference giving up a couple hours of your time can make in a life. You give a little of yourself and you receive in spades of satisfaction. So Sugar Foot can snuggle in for the night here. She might not sleep well, we might not sleep well, and the resident dogs might not sleep well that night. But for one night, for the sake of helping one of God's precious four-footed creatures it will all be worth it.

She will pass quickly into our lives, and then out of our lives. But our heart will be touched. Isn't that the best we could possibly hope for?

Dogged Determination

As a foster home nothing is better than an update on your former foster. I've been incredibly blessed by my friendship with Pete's new owners. I get pictures regularly, although I think I'm about due for some, hint, hint, hint. But I get personal updates on the owners as well. I enjoy knowing what's going on in Pete's family.

I could not have chosen a better home for Pete. Yes, this little city girl was worried about Pete going to the big city. Pete, and his four footed female friend Lucy, live the good life in New York City. I've been to visit them - that's how lucky I am. Lucy just turned 14. Amazing, huh? She is not a pointer, but is lucky enough to live with one. She may have a different version of that, but I'm not asking her.

Here is how lucky these dogs are. Lucy, beloved senior that she is, recently had a leg injury making walks impossible. So what does one do in that case? Well, she got carried, that's what happened. Mind you she's probably a 50 lb dog. Of course, it's a challenge to carry one dog and walk another in the city. So he took them out one at a time. Walking one, carrying the other. Talk about dogged determination.

That is the sort of owner I want to be. That is absolutely the type of home I want my fosters to go to, and the type of person I want my kids to marry. When you really love someone or something, you make those sacrifices. Except, it's not a sacrifice, it's a privilege.

Never Enough Time

In going through my Mom's things I've discovered the following. We never talked enough about food. And, if I had been even remotely inclined to be a cleaning guru she could have been my mentor.

We keep finding boxes, folders, envelopes, trays, piles, closets, corners and cupboards chock full of recipes and notes for how to clean things. She was the queen of clipping recipes. Absolutely the queen. So many recipes so little time. She also had the worlds largest collection of cleaning supplies. Shelves devoted to cleaning products. I kid you not.

She can be proud of her kids. We are all good cooks. Scratch that, we are excellent cooks. All three of my brothers do most the cooking in their households. We all like to eat and one might as well eat well. At least that is my personal philosophy. I don't recall any really bad recipes Mom cooked. Now, Dad, that's another story. He made yeast rolls so hard you could skip them across the Missouri River. He made Hunters Stew, which I recall distastefully. But he tried, which was impressive for a man of his generation. He clipped recipes too. I find that rather impressive.

Cooking is one of those universal topics. A safe conversation in a time we strive for political discretion. Oh wait, isn't that a misnomer? Ahhh, but cooking?? Who can't relate in some way to cooking.

She loved recipes like I love dogs. And there is never enough time for that which we love, is there?

365 Thankful Days

365 days ago we had company in town for Reno's birthday. What a complete surprise for Reno and a total blessing to have all his favorite family and friends here with us. So today's challenge question is what were you doing 365 days ago? Perhaps it's not a vivid memory like our party weekend.

Dog-wise Sidney was our foster. Maddie was still running like crazy because she hadn't torn her ACL yet. Mick was just his regular dufus boy self, and Kobe was still old. Kobe used to be such a quiet old guy. Now that Reno's lives here I've learned a lot about Kobe. Reno insists that he channels for Kobe. The two of them have complete dialogs worthy of Saturday Night Live. I keep telling him he needs to take this show on the road. Kobe, according to Reno, is a cranky old cuss who is very opinionated. If he had a favorite phrase it would be "Oh, pooooop!" often followed by words I'm not allowed to repeat.

Funny how fast 365 days can go. Equally amazing how slow they can sometimes go too. Either way we've been blessed. With great dogs, memories, love and family. So perhaps this is an early thanksgiving blog. Or, perhaps a very late thank you note for last year. Either way its all good.

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Hunting Season

As I write, my favorite hunters are out doing their favorite thing in the world. Pheasant season opens today. My son, his black lab Decoy, Reno and a couple other friends are out tramping the fields. A wet October means there is still a lot of corn in the fields, giving the birds the advantage. No offense to the hunters, of course.

As I write Hank and Kobe (the two lemons) are snoozing in the computer room. Mick and Maddie (the two livers) are sleeping on the bed. It's a rough life. But, face it, we all hunt in our own distinct way.

Ever year at this time I remember fondly hunting with my brothers and Dad when I was little. I remember feeling excited to go, and yet, feeling bad because I was leaving Mom at home alone. I wanted to be one of the guys, but felt like it was a bad thing. Funny how our baggage can be both light and heavy at the same time.

Each time our dogs head out the front door they are on their own hunting trip. Hunt for the right spot to pee, hunt for the right place to leave a pile, hunt the pesky squirrel that messes with their heads. I don't think they carry any baggage with them when they hunt. Lucky dogs.

Hunting is a relative term. We are all hunting for something. We hunt for peace of mind, for faith, for the break we deserve in life. We hunt for someone to share our life with, and the patience to endure what we asked for. We hunt for our self, and our self worth. We hunt to find family and what it means to us. Some people never even step foot into the field of their hunt.

Some of us are surrounded by hunters, and hunting dogs. Our hunt may be for a place on the sofa to sit, room in the bed for the humans, or for a home for our foster dog. But hunt we will, with the joy of a dog (or two or three or four) by our side.

Wiggle Butt

Think back to when you were young. Or think back to when your children were young. For one reason or another, in a desperate need for a few more minutes of shut eye, you said "yes _____(insert name of choice) you can crawl in bed with us. But no matter how large the bed, that one extra body would take up all the space. There was suddenly a barrage of pointy elbows and feet pushing and prodding. I'm fairly certain no one really got any extra shut eye in the process.

It was like that this morning. Reno, up early to work on the computer, let Mr. Hanky in to lay with me. Sometimes, he crawls in, circles round, and cuddles right up against me and I hardly know he is there. This morning it was flashbacks to childhood. Every time I even twitched it was push, prod, wiggle, nudge, nuzzle. I'm feeling really weary as I write this, but he is laying quite peacefully.

Really, how can an animal so beautiful be such a a wiggle butt? Just like we miss our kids when they grow up, I'll miss Hank when he is not around to launch his happy Hank persona against my side. What he lacks in smooth execution he more than makes up for in enthusiasm.

Sure I could ban him from the bedroom. But sometimes the experiences that are most provoking, challenging, amusing are also the most memorable. It's part of loving, it's part of fostering, it's part of life.

Things I've Learned....

I must be a remedial learner in both patience and mathematics. At least with math, I can use a calculator. I think I need a calculator that adds those two tiny bits of patience and melds them into large blocks of patience.

Funny how dogs don't seem to want things as much as we do. Of course, in most cases I am not a materialistic person, nor am I a dog. Dogs may want to get to things.....oh wait, maybe I do to. There are a few things I am totally materialist about. It is humbling to admit that.

I don't need fancy clothes. I can find terrific deals in thrift stores. I don't need fancy cars, but I won't drive crap again either. I like to look put together and coordinated, but am far from high maintenance.

At Halloween time at the store, I am amazed at the folks who think nothing of dropping $75-100 on a costume. Or $50 or more on make-up designed to look like you've just suffered a major accident. I have enough trouble some days with eye liner, blush and foundation. I really don't need to look like I have a gaping flesh wound. Nor do I have the skill for that either.

I wasn't entirely surprised to find a "bloody hand" in the container we store popcorn in at work. We offer free popcorn every day we are open. Some folks might have dropped their teeth when they saw that - I just had to laugh. Ghouls, spiders, ghosts are all part and parcel of this time of year. From now until Sunday we'll be in Halloween. We're pretty much done with Fall and gearing up for Christmas. We blow through seasons like bubbles on a wand. Here, then gone.

Even in my impatience I'm working at slowing down and staying in the day. As much as I want, life doesn't happen on my time table. If ever there was a slow lesson to learn it was that.

There are spooky people and people who dress like spooks. There are people who wear more make-up than they wear their own personality. There are times to rush forward, and times to hold back. And always, always plenty of times to stay in - the moment.

Where We Are In Life

I wonder if we took a poll, how many of us would say we are right where we want to be in life?

We were discussing that just this evening. Neither of us is where we thought we'd be at our age. I guess we thought life would be easier. Or at least, more settled. Or, possibly, more successful for us.

Perhaps we thought all the stars would align and the things that worry us would vanish. Finances would not be an issue. Health would be secure. Relationships would be hunky dory. The kids would be safe and self-sufficient. The economy would work with us instead of against us. Maybe we just thought we'd be smarter. Less prone to stupid errors and mistakes.

Hmmmmm. In a perfect world that would be the case. In that world Hank wouldn't have mast cell tumors, Maddie wouldn't hork on the floor fairly often. I'd be 5' 9", svelte and make an enormous salary in retail world. Thus enabling me to work part time and enjoy the rest of the day hiking, getting pedicures and massages. Oh, and don't forget the bon-bon's. In a perfect world money wouldn't be an issue, taxes wouldn't hobble us, and gas prices wouldn't jump 17 cents in a week.

Oh, wait. We don't live in a perfect world. If we are smart, we seize the moment and celebrate the day. It's not where we thought we'd be, but where we are that matters. Life is messy, and challenges are many. If we wait for perfect, we miss out on monumental moments of grace.

We are where we are. If there is someone to love us, an animal to bring us laughter and comfort, food on the table, a roof over our head, and a prayer in our heart. Could it ever get much better than this?

No Pain, No Gain

I know what that means in the human world. I didn't think dogs experienced the same thing. Mr. Hanky would tell you otherwise.

Most of the night he sleeps on the sofa. At some point, usually about our morning alarm time, he sometimes needs some human company. He used to vault up landing like a ton of bricks. Now, he sometimes arrives by stealth mode and slides in without fanfare.

The other night I sensed his presence beside the bed. He paused, because Miss Maddy snuggles beside me at night. Maddie never hesitates to grumble if jostled by one of the dogs. Mostly she's all bark. He paused and then he levitated onto the bed. I've yet to figure out how one movement from floor to bed can be so fluid. Except that this time he landed squarely on Miss Maddie. Now, I snap too if so rudely awakened. She bristled, grumbled and snapped because one clearly does not leap upon sleeping princesses. Hank got nipped, but that did not dissuade him. He whimpered a little as he wedged himself next to me. I felt bad for him. But, nipping or not, he wanted to sleep by my side. You have to admire him for his diligence.

He may have weighed his options in his silly pointer head. Snuggle with Momma, face the growling bitch. Snuggle with Momma, face the ranting bitch. No pain, no gain. So he went for it.

Some things are worth getting nipped for. His sigh as he settled in told me just that. Luckily I have enough love for both of them. Reno was glad Maddie stood her ground. I was appalled she nipped the sick boy. Thing is she doesn't know he's sick, and neither does he. That is all that matters. That, and getting adequate cuddle time.

Life Swapping

Most of the reality shows first of all make me want to hurl, and then secondly, make me happy for the life I have. My reality is pretty darned normal, even for a home with four dogs. I think once you put a camera in front of someone there is no such thing as reality. One person's reality is another persons nightmare. Perhaps my reality would bore the bejeebers out of someone else. And, much of their reality bears no semblance to normalcy. Why is that entertaining? Don't we have enough trouble with conflict in our own lives? Must we endure some one elses conflict under the guise of amusement? I don't think so.

When I got married there was not a slew of bachelors trying to win my hand. No limo's, no on screen wooing, no make-up enhanced fantasy. You know what I mean. Few of us ever get to dance with the stars, unless we choose to see our mate in that light. Sure, we all want to be a millionaire. So isn't the name of that show rhetorical? There are times we all call our self "the biggest loser", and we don't need national television to do it.

The closest I'll ever get to life changing, drama filled, entertaining, heroic moments is by working in animal rescue. If they had a reality TV show about rescue volunteers they could call it Life Swapping. Take one down on it's luck animal, pull it from a nasty shelter, lovingly rehabilitate it, and find it a forever home. If that's not life swapping then what is? It's a reality many never see, and most would not find it entertaining.

Okay, okay, so it won't draw sponsor's and draw thousands of viewers. It's a different kind of reality that does not include a panel of judges to vote you off the show or on to destiny. It's a slow and steady wins the race, making a difference one animal at a time process.

I rather like this kind of reality.

Nuts

I used to think the squirrels were really cute. Then I thought they were really pesky creatures, digging holes and burying nuts. Now I believe they are my new best friend and I owe them a big bag of walnuts.

There was a brown squirrel in the tree yesterday. I think it was a she squirrel. I think that because it was really quick, with just a hint of "na-na-na-boo-boo" attitude. Anyhow, said squirrel played (aka tortured) Mickey and Hank for three hours. They had quite a game going.

Take one squirrel, two trees approximately 20 ft away from each other and two pointers who love to hunt. If only I had a camcorder to capture the hunt. I did take some photo's but my photography skills are nothing compared to the hunting skills of the dogs and the evasion skills of the squirrel.

I did see the most beautiful, and lengthy, stalk performed with infinite patience by a goofy boy named Mr. Hanky. He stalked for 30 ft, in an ever so slow motion step....point.....step....point....step....point. It was so slow I probably did have time to run to Target and buy a video camera. I'm not sure where the squirrel was in the tree but Hank should get an award for execution of a hunting paw-de-deux.


Each and every time the squirrel out smarted the boys. Each and every time they were certain they were going to catch their prey. Thank God they didn't! So often I am asked if I hunt my pointers. It used to make me feel bad that I didn't. Until I realized they hunt their own back yard quite happily.

Heaven can be found in your own back yard. Even if it is a little squirrely.

Random Thots

I am excited to be adding some Chinese Herbal supplements to Hank's diet for his mast cell tumors. They may, or may not help, but at least I have the satisfaction of trying. Much like putting Vick's Vaporub on a sick child. It may or may not help, but we feel like we are doing something. Doing something for a person or pet with health issues is important. Hank and I both say thank you to the donor of these supplements.

Speaking of issues, I've decided Reno has a form of TV/movie tourettes syndrome. He breaks out into song, or quotes from scripts on a regular basis. Ironically, I rarely watch TV, so I am always racking my brain to figure out which program the quote is from. He is awesome at remembering the lines, and I suck at identifying them. I think I frustrate him sometimes with my lack of TV/movie knowledge. I like to think I have other talents. Math skills, map reading and movie trivia are just not some of them.

I'm disappointed our entry into the Rachael Ray Mutt Madness contest did not make the cut. I don't know how many rescues entered, but I suspect the competition was tough. I can think of a thousand things I should have said, but c'est la vie. Or would it be c'est la woof. All I can say is dangit, Pointer Rescue deserves a break....and I'm sure it's coming soon.

As I write, Hank is curled up behind my chair. Kobe is snoring on his rug, with his paws twitching in dream, and Maddie is guarding the hallway. Somehow dog snoring is much more adorable than people snoring. Reno will probably testify to this. Mickey must be in on the bed, or down on the sofa. He tends to be less of a Momma's boy than the others.

And last but not least, Pointer Rescue needs foster homes. Won't you please consider it? You too can be a crazy dog person. I highly recommend it. It will be the best second chance you could ever give a dog. And really, who among us, isn't eternally grateful for second chances.

Spiritual Matter

It was one of those deeply spiritual days. Some will say they happen mostly on Sunday, but I beg to differ. For me, they are usually on Tuesday. You see, today I had an audience with the poop. No, not the Pope, but just as moving. They are really circle of life moments in some ways. What goes in must come out, what goes around comes around.

It started in the bathroom. I went in to use it before going outside. That is when the whole "audience" part became clear. There is nothing like getting situated for the moment and discovering that both Hank and Kobe are right beside you for the event. They look so eager as if to say "Mom we're here for you". And....no doubt, "can we have a drink when you are done". Dog really can keep you from taking yourself to seriously.

Next we went outside to clean the yard. I experienced a very long audience with the poop out there. It seems only fair. They witnessed mine, I clean up after theirs. It was a contemplative experience.

All the Fall leaves scattered on the ground took me back to being a little girl. I remember gluing the leaves to paper, scribbling around the leaves with magic marker and trying to sell my artwork door-to-door to the neighbors. In retrospect, I'm surprised Mom let me do that. In hindsight, it was probably one of those 'anything for a moment of peace' times Mother's sometimes have. Just like the "anything to make this kid go away" moment a neighbor had when he gave me money for the artwork.

They say you are changed by an audience with the Pope, and I would like to witness the same for an audience with the poop. The poop took me down memory lane today. I was in good company on the journey. Memories of Mom, the company of dogs. And, plenty of spiritual matter along the way.

Anticipation

For me, anticipation lasts a long time, sometimes forever. It involves hopes and dreams on multiple levels. Some long term, some shorter. Often there is a build up and a let down. A time to regroup and hope yet again. It involves faith and patience. Sometimes I struggle with both of those. I am a want it now person. Or at least I want it with a projected date of the outcome. Naturally with the outcome I prefer. Constant anticipation with no return is at best deflating and at worst outright discouraging.


I have to admire that the dogs don't live like this. Their anticipation is in the moment. It is immediate as in "oh goodie, Mommy has the bacon strips out", or "it's feeding time and she's going for the bowls!!!", or "its snowing or raining I'll snuggle into the sofa and they promptly forget the inclement weather. There is no level of angst involved in canine anticipation. I admit to being envious of this.

As much as I would like to stay in the moment I keep getting drawn out of it. Sucked into the vortex of "what if, when, how, why not, and how come". Coated with a heavy dose of "I want it now". Bottom line is "I" need to take a chill pill and just trust. I wonder if the dogs will share their chill pills with me. So that I too can live life in the present, in the comfort of acceptance. Then I would not be rushing down the highway of wonder and worry.

I doubt they ever think, dang I should have barked louder, or ran harder, or played more. They don't second guess and feel like a less than perfect dog. They are what they are. Half a cookie is always awesome, and they never compare their cookies to someone elses.

If I was more dog-like I'd be a much better human. Perhaps they are here to make me a better being. Less doing, less worrying, more being, and being okay with that.

Fostering Thots

This is the first time in our years of fostering that we have a permanent foster. Granted, some were here so long they felt like they might be permanent. Kobe became permanent. He was with us for a year before we adopted him.

Lily has been in her foster home for 15 years now. Nah, just kidding. But she's been there a long time, well over Kobe's year with us. We have such great hopes for our foster dogs. We love them like they are our own. We cheer for their successes. We cry when they go to their forever home. It is a complicated thing this fostering.

It's an agreement to love wholeheartedly. To do training and housebreaking, to learn their issues and help them learn to be loving companions. Well, they do the loving and we enjoy their companionship.

It's very much like parenting, except you can put your foster in a crate. It's as heartbreaking and as rewarding as parenting. It's loving them enough to let them in, knowing you will let them go when the time is right. It's definitely not knowing what you are getting into, each and every time you foster. No two are the same.

It's puddles, and holes in blankets, heartworm, and an occasional parasite. It's figuring out which treats are liver treats OMG liver treats. It is sit, stay, down, no, good dog and hello buddy. It is the wonder of how humans can treat animals so horribly and dispose of them so cruelly. It is the magic of love and discipline.

It is saying yes, dear foster, I love you enough to let you go. It is the joy of hearing how your former foster dog is doing. It is the delight of seeing new pictures of them. Sometimes, it the bitter sweet experience of being the last one to love that sweet dog you foster. It was that way for us with Sidney. Someday it will be that way with Hank.

As much as I dislike the saying "it is what it is", it definitely applies to fostering. Fostering is what it is. And yes, it is an honor, and a privilege.

Snug As A Bug

The pups are in for a rude awakening this weekend. It's going to be cold. I'm thinking we skipped Fall and are going right into Winter. I should be slapped for even suggesting that.

Pointers don't exactly have the coat of a Polar Bear. While they are soft and sleek, and shed (alot) they aren't built for winter weather. I can tell they are noticing the cooler weather approaching.

Kobe has his corner in the bedroom, with his stack of blankets. He gave me the look the other night that said: "hey, Mom, when you gonna turn my heater on?" I told him it's too early in the season for the furnace, but I may have to reconsider. We've gotten the winter blanket out, but not the flannel sheets.

I've gotten a scarf out, put some gloves on in the car, but haven't worn a coat yet. One must enter the next season in a series of measured steps. To make the drastic move from no coat, to coat, hat and gloves would be pathetic. What kind of Midwesterner would I be if I did that?

Sure, right now the 30's feel cold. But in January they will feel warm. Plus I know with the cold will come the pointers. One by one, they will slink onto the bed at night to give warmth, to get warmth, to be snug as a bug in a rug.

They go by leaps and bounds from cold into warmth. I go by little baby steps from warmth into cold. All done in the name of staying snug and warm.

Tranquility is Relative

I readily admit that the evil green monster of jealousy took root in my heart this morning. It was such a peaceful scene. Mick, Maddie and Hank, snuggled together with Reno in bed. Reno would want me to say the dogs were snuggling, he wasn't. I was jealous. Almost all my favorite two and four footed loves were warm, cozy and snoozing. I, however, was getting ready for work.

I took my envy into a hot shower. Where I intended to nurse it just a wee bit more. Now, truly, I have nothing to complain about. Sometimes we do anyway.

Several minutes into my shower I hear to sounds of Maddie warming up to the sound of a not so distant siren. In seconds she is enjoying a full accompaniment of Hank and Mick howling their hearts out beside her.

Suddenly, miraculously, heaven left the bed and stepped inside the warm shower behind closed doors. I didn't have it so bad after all. Tranquility is as fleeting as it is relative.

Ears and Sighs

I was snuggling with Hank this morning. He was warm and lazy, I was lazy and wanted to be warm. Plus he was on my side of the bed so I curled up him for a while.

Ever notice how expressive a dogs ears are? It's completely amazing. Beyond their hearing ability, just the ear wiggling capacity! They say dogs have 16 muscles in their ears. That's a lot of muscles in that one area of the body. As much as they get used you would think they would have really buff ears.

This got me thinking, which may not be a good thing on a day off and early in the morning. I wonder if their ears ever get tired? I know my eye's get tired if I stare at the computer too long. I know my feet hurt after being on them all day. In my best Andy Rooney voice I have to say I wonder if dogs ears get tired? I suppose if I ever have a talking dog named Andy Rooney I'll probably find out.

I was also enjoying how Hank snuggled closer and then let out a big sigh. Funny how people sigh more out of frustration, or radical acceptance than pure pleasure. I've never seen a dog sigh because the line was too long, or traffic was bad, or because people are so stupid sometimes. They sigh for the absolutely right reason. Because life just can't possibly get any better.

I believe I'll give that a try.

Oldies But Goodies

I've been taking my dogs to the local pet blessing for ten years now. First time I went was when my lab, Abby, was about 3 months old.

At first I was enamoured with the puppies when I would go. Face it, we all have a soft spot for puppies. Now I find it's not the puppies that touch my heart so much as it is the old dogs.

Perhaps sharing life with an old dog gives me special insight to them. Of course, Kobe probably doesn't know he's old. But as we help him down the stairs every time I know. I know when he stumbles, or struggles to get up, or when he lays down and it's one clumsy shift in position that in his race through life age is about to pull ahead.

So when I see old pets at blessing events, I smile in my heart. While everyone loves a puppy, it's a special person who adores their senior. I have to ask God to bless every hair on my old guys body. Bless his tail that wags, his zest for life (at least for his kibble!) his love for me. He does love his Mommy. Bless his heart and steps in the days ahead.

Oldies but goodies, need I say more?

Blessing or Curse - a dog perspective

Geez, I have to tell you what happened today. Oh, btw, it's Hank talking. Mom did it again. I don't know why she does it. She says something about a Blessing of the Animals. But, let me tell you I must be cursed because she keeps taking me to them.

First she puts that red rope thing over my schnozzle. She calls it a Gentle Leader. I try like the dickens to get that dreaded thingy off. She should have one of those strapped over her nose. Bet she wouldn't like it either. Then we go for a car ride. I like that part, except for the rope on my nose.

Then we get to the blessing place. Let me tell you its chaos there. Now, she knows I grumble when strange dogs come to close. Why it's good experience to be in situations like that beats the biscuits out of me. Today Mickey went with me. He was supposed to be a calming essence for me. Mom must be nuts. I love her to pieces, but she simply must have a whacko side.

Oh ya, there are dogs everywhere. Big ones, little ones, ugly ones, did you see the poodle with pink bows on her ears? Her Mom must hate her. Kids everywhere, music, cats in carriers. Mickey about shivered himself out of his coat at the cats. So much for creating a calm aura for me. Thanks Mickey. And, get this, they bring you treats. But, who can eat at a time like this??? Are you kidding me? I think Mom still has 'em in her pocket, I hope so.

Then as if it isn't stressful enough you have to just stand around and look cute, with a rope around your nose, for about 30 minutes. Oh my liver treats, it's nearly impossible. At least we stayed near the back. I think she called it the juvenile delinquent section. Must be a special area for the really handsome boys like us. We were in good company, there was another pup from the local shelter who preferred the special back area. There was a horse too, thank God they don't like to sniff butts.

There were some good moments. Those nice little boys just loved me. The one with his Russian turtle in a fleece pouch was adorable. But, why doesn't Mom carry me around in a cozy fleece pouch? I'm still not sure I got any blessings. A man in a long robe prayed for my health and comfort. If health and comfort don't come in the form a liver treat I doubt I got any.

It was exhausting, but we got through it. If Mom came away feeling blessed then wearing the red rope on my nose is all worth it. Now leave me alone. I'm one tired dog and it's nap time.

Seasons

We are changing seasons. In our lives, by our age, by the weather, by clothing, by knowledge, by experience. The outside temperature tells us change is upon us. Honestly, I'm not ready to let go of the vegetable garden. I need about another month 0f 80 degree weather for all the tomato's on the vine.

There are seasons of hope and anticipation. Seasons of preparation. Seasons bitter and harsh. Seasons of wonder. Seasons of healing. Seasons we just wonder where they disappeared to. And of course, lest I forget, there is football season.

Then, of course, there are the seasonings of life. On our food, in our relationships, in our faith life. Some seasonings are savory, some spicy, some mellow and some always leave us wanting more.

I look at Kobe and know his seasons may be few. In the busy-ness of my life, I envy the laziness of his life. I look at Hank and wonder about his cancer. He's been part of our family since April. What an incredible season of joy he has brought us. Who ever gave him up is missing out on so much. They may not have wanted to endure his season of cancer. Isn't that too bad for them? Maddie has had a season of healing since her ACL surgery last March. As the only other female in the house she and I have a special bond. Lastly, there is Mickey. His favorite season is hunting season and he doesn't even get out in the field. Tweety birds, bunny, squirrels, bee's, bugs and an occasional snake are his prey. One doesn't necessarily need a field to hunt. Bliss can be found in our own backyard.

Such is the case with Reno and I. We've crossed some bumpy roads of late, but buoyed with laughter and love we keep finding the bliss in our own backyard. And, yes, sometimes you have to step over a big pile of poo to find the bliss. Such is life.

Whatever season you are in, right now......find the grace, step over the poo, experience some joy, live the moment.

Good To Know

I can't help but think it's good to know I'm not totally insane. Sure, I'm still a crazy dog lady. Yep, I'll probably always be a bit suspect in my neighborhood because of this. Not a huge deal.

I'm happy to report other self respecting dog lovers have sampled their canine companions medications. If we were at a ten-step program for dog lovers, I wouldn't be the only one standing up and owning this particular behavior.

Yes, I did almost call my vet to ask if the eye ointment was interchangeable. He would have helped me in a heart beat. In his defense, he knows my name, and would where ever he ran into me. He would not need to refer to a chart to know who I am. I'm not just a female, patient number ____, 51 yrs old, 5' 4', on med's for blah, blah and blah, menopausal, prone to being weepy....you get my drift. I did call my primary Dr. to ask about my eye issue. I talked to a nurse. I don't know her name or face. She only knows my name. I did not confess who's ointment I was using.

To my vet I have a name and a face and we have more than medical history. Don't get me wrong, not that kind of history. When you sit on the floor and help a beloved pet over the bridge together, the client/vet relationship takes on a new meaning.

Things like this are good to know. In the company of dogs, cats and other pets we may become a little eccentric. If that's the case I'm all for it. Better to be insanely in love with our pets, than to never be insane at all. I rest my case.

Life is Good When.....

Life is good when you open the door, smell the distinct aroma of skunk, and realize you're dogs came in unscathed.

Life is good when you stumble upon a really great deal on dog food. Plus it provides visual entertainment. Kobe, with his funky bottom lip and lack of teeth spreads around the small kibble bits, not to mention cottage cheese, like he's crop dusting or something. The other dogs are always willing to clean up the morsels he might leave behind. Might being the operative word, he might be messy, but he rarely leaves any behind.

Life is good when the dogs leave just enough room on the sofa for one human being. It doesn't always work out that way. Although I do have to laugh at Mickey. We (well Reno) covers the sofa with a blanket to keep it fur free. When we are at work, Mick diligently moves the blanket aside so he can sleep on the sofa. He's no dummy!

Life is good when the medicine cabinet has both canine prescriptions and human prescriptions. Although during times of great stress I have accidentally taken the dogs meds instead of my own. Plus, I once had to fill out a HIP PA privacy form for my lab when I picked up a prescription for her at the pharmacy. Soooo, this ginormous sty on my eye that got me thinking. Perhaps there was an eye ointment that I could use. Okay, perhaps publicly admitting this might be grounds for insanity. I'd say the amount of pain and swelling from this sty is insane. Let me just say, I am not usually a wimp about pain. I am a trooper, generally speaking. Unless you ask Reno or my kids.

It is probably not the wisest decision to self diagnose and self medicate. Part of me willingly acknowledges that. Actually, no where on the tube does it say "not for human use". And yes, I did research the contents to verify they were medications for human use too. So there.

As I write this I have to wonder if all ya'alls are aghast at this thought process, or if some of you might be saying yes! I've done that too!

If it doesn't help I will call the Dr. tomorrow. If I begin wagging my tail incessantly, I will call the Dr. tomorrow. If I get a wet nose, lose my oposable thumbs, have any other side affects like panting or licking my nether parts, I will call the Dr. tonight.

My thinking if it's a dose weight appropriate for one of my dogs, it probably won't hurt me, and it just might help. Of course, I am a crazy dog lady - what do I know.

Life is good when you share your life with dogs, and when they share their stuff with you.

Good Dogs - Great People

I believe dog people are some of the best in the world. Perhaps I am biased because I am totally a dog person. If so, I can deal with that.

Next weekend is one of our local blessings of the animals. Years ago I took Kobe when he first came into my foster care. He was homely, just a rack of hips and ribs. I met a woman there who came over to inquire about him. She raises Chinese crested dogs, and bears out the theory people do resemble their dogs. But that is another whole blog.

She was taken by this sweet boy. Over the years I cross paths with her at dog events here and there. We always talk about Kobe when we meet. I'm sure she doesn't know my first name, just like I don't know hers. That really matters not.

She frequents the store I work at, so I'm always delighted when I see her. Today she had a four month old crested pup in her little pouch. She asked me to hold him to work on socialization skills. I was only to glad to help out. Ears, toes, paws, teeth, belly - I touched them all. A person can get very personal in the name of socialization! This little pup's name is Jimmy Choo-Shoes. What a hilarious name. Another litter mate of little Jimmy has even less 'hair' and is named Lucille Bald. Frankly, I think I need to get more creative with the names of my dogs! I could use Kate Spayed, Billy Jowel (an English bulldog, of course) or Smelly Butts. So many possibilities. Or, I could ask her help with naming dogs.

That's part of what makes the rescue family so awesome. Ask and you will receive. Do you have a behavior issue? Or rather does your dog? Ask and we will answer. Are you grieving the loss of a beloved pet, we will lend a shoulder. Could you be pondering adding another dog to the pack? We'd be right there saying do it!! Need a toy recommendation - if its on the market one of us has bought it.

I love the people brought into my life by opening my heart to dogs. They are the best, absolutely, totally, and most amazingly. Now, if only I could get one of them over to scoop poop.

Dog Belly's

Is there anything softer than a dog belly? Well, perhaps a newborn's belly. But either one are sights to behold.



In our race with life, we forget to savor the soft warm touch of a tender belly. We have tender hearts, and tender feet. We fuss about jelly bellies, muffin tops and anything less than 6 pack ab's. Whoop-to-do, la-di-da and big flippin deal.



As I work at the computer I pause to observe Kobe and Hank snoozing away. Hank's belly is very pink and spotted. He has the most gnarly nipples in the world. I kid you not. Kobe's belly is more white, and his nipples are nothing to write home to Mom about, but way less nasty than Hank's.



Either way there is an innocence in their exposed belly. The rhythym of their breathing, the soft snoring, the total relaxation, the ocassional twitching of paws. They are at rest. Their rest promotes my rest.



One old dog, one young dog, one envious observer. They met their day with enthusiasm. And they rest with equal abandon. It just doesn't get any better than dog belly's and gentle snoring.

Dog-servations - aka random dog thots

Just when you think you have seen all the really gross things a dog can do they come up with one more. And while I can't complain, because it involved no clean up for me, I do have to laugh at the disgusting nature of it. If you are sitting down to breakfast as you are reading this, you may want to push your plate away.

Let me set the scene. Feeding time at the zoo involves four bowls with certain combinations of foods. The dogs wait somewhat patiently for the process to unfold. Kobe and Hank get their bowls first, then Maddie and Mick. Maddie has to sit and Mick has to be in a down position and wait for release. This morning as Maddie was waiting for Mick to get into position she horked up the yellow frothy stuff. Not uncommon for her as she has a bit of a tender tummy. This is the first time she's horked it into her food bowl. May I just say gross, gross and more gross! I was ever so happy to say, not my dog Reno, you deal with it. Actually, even grosser, Maddie took care of it. Yes, dogs are gross.

On a less revolting note, we are learning something new about Mr. Hanky. He is becoming a cold weather wimp. The last two mornings have been deliciously cool. Hank prefers not to leave the warmth of the house first thing in the morning when the others head out to piddle. Given the choice outside or inside, he races for his crate. I'm sure he's saying....no, really, I can hold it a lot longer......let me know when it's about 60 degrees.....I'll just be in my crate with my legs crossed.

And a little follow-up on Reno. Blessedly he has made almost a complete recovery. We see the neurologist tomorrow. His "illness" is still undiagnosed, but what matters is he has recovered. Thankfully, of so thankfully we rejoice in that. In many ways it has been a wake up call for us. Wake up calls, while often rude and surprising, bring with them graces and new opportunities.

In light of all our blessings, a little chilly weather and some dog vomit are pretty small potatoes. Sending you happy tails and happy trails on the road of life. And God Bless.