Therapy

For years now the dogs and I have done pet therapy. First with Abby - the labby, then Kobe, and now Mr. Mick. It have always enjoyed it as a way to give. To give of myself, my love of dogs and to spread some smiles around to those in need. I've always considered it purely an act of giving.

Until now, that is. Now that I've been visiting the hospital to see my Mom for 8+ weeks I've discovered something much different. As busy as my schedule is, I miss going. It is therapy for me, as well as therapy for those we minister to. I would have bet it was just a giving thing - and there is nothing wrong with that.

So I went today, even though there were other things I could and should have been doing. I went because I get something from it, something very important. Not only do I get a different perspective on my struggles, I get to fill my loving cup so to speak.

I am happily surprised by this revelation. Mick gives, in his adorable canine way. And I receive because of it. I give of our time and those we visit receive because of it. The balance of giving and receiving is more equal than I'd imagined. That is therapeutic in itself.

Security

Security means many things to many people. We have security blankets, security checks, insecurity, as well as social security (isn't that a misnomer?) Today I went through airport security. Let me be the first to say I did not have 3 oz bottles and plastic bags for some of my items.

Said items, however, went through two security check points last week with less than 3 oz. of investigation. Today - well, today was another story. Yes, I got busted for having a large can of hairspray (that was totally a blonde moment), part of a tube of hair paste, and a couple mini bottles of lotion. I'll concede the hair spray deserved to be pulled. The hair paste? Excuse me! Hair paste is not a liquid or an aerosol. And the little bottles of lotion? They are the very ones you get for free in hotel rooms! The lotions weren't guilty of anything other than traveling without protection. How a zip lock bag renders them safe is beyond me. Good to know the world, or at least the Omaha airport, is safe from random acts of hair paste and skin lotion.

I did have the option of going out and checking my suitcase through to keep from relinquishing the contraband items. Somehow, the cost of checking my bag both going and coming wasn't the equivalent of buying new product. Nice offer, but I don't think so.

At least I had the good sense not to lobby for lotion and paste amnesty. I did mention these same products went through this same security checkpoint last week. But, I didn't push my luck. I am guilty as charged.

I hope the flat hair police don't stop me for a genuine lack of texture and lift. If they so, so be it. It's the price one has to pay for being secure.

Cross Country and Birds of A Feather

As the crow flies - I love that saying. Plus I have new respect for it. Yesterday, as the crow flies (or not), we drove from Boise to Omaha. If only one could drive as the crow flies. But, one can't, so it was a cross country marathon to make it home. There were a few stops. Several stops for fuel, one for a craft store, one for food, several potty breaks. Including one emergency stop just down the road from a scheduled stop. What can I say, it happens. Luckily we had three drivers. We needed them.

May I add it felt like it took 10 hours just to cross the state of NE. Ten long, unending, monotonous, construction laden hours. Maybe dropping from 80mph, to 65mph factored in. I thought we would never get home. And, yes, we are certifiable for making this drive. And, no, I probably wouldn't do it again all in one day. However, two of us need to get in to work today - so there you have it. As I write this, Reno is out like a light. To tired to drink his beer (that's really tired). Too tired to just go to bed. Too tired to pick his head up off the kitchen table....lol.

Speaking of crows and how they fly - there is one less crow today thanks to Hank. Now, I don't know how he caught it. I really need a yard-cam installed. But when I called him in, he ran in his own mach-1 style right into the house with the dead crow in his mouth. He landed on the couch, settled in and was going to "enjoy" his catch. I wasn't as excited as he was. I was trying to figure out how to remove it from the house.

I slipped my hand into the plastic sleeve from the newspaper, all gloved up and ready to go. Hank came when I called with his treasure. He did give it to me. It was not a soft mouth and gentle release, there was a little pulling involved. But, it was a release and the Happy Dance was done!

So there you have it. We flew, it flew. We landed (safely), it landed (not so safely). As crows fly it was an incredible journey. In Hank's book it is an incredible journey. It was a red letter catch and release kind of day.

And, Lordy.....am I happy to be home.

On The Road

Have you thought I'd gotten lost? Nah. Just traveling on business and some pleasure too.

The worst part is being away from the dogs. But, thankfully, I got a dog fix today. Five days is too long without canine companionship. We visited a winery today and as I was walking in I comment how I needed a dog fix. Low and behold one of the wines listed for tasting was called Bird Dog White. Obviously, I had to taste that one. Which led to a discussion of dogs, and mention that there were a couple Labradors on site. I was practically begging to see them. Ah, the sweet touch of canine fur, the joy of the wagging tail, the nudge with the muzzle for more petting. Not as good as loving up on my own dogs, but definitely good for the soul.

Tomorrow we attend a wedding. One of my son's college roommates is getting married. As his Omaha Mom, it seemed imperative we share the day with him. How these boys grew up so fast is beyond me. Okay, how they survived college is beyond me.

The road of life takes us many directions. One led me to dogs, one led me to Reno (and led Reno to Omaha) one led me to travel, one to having other sons I never expected. One road circled back time and time again to increase my faith. One is the highway of gratitude.

Ever so happily, today's road led me to some dogs........

Upstaged

Hank had a come to Jesus meeting yesterday. In a good way! We took this dear boy to a Blessing of the Animals. I love these events. There is one we attend in June and one in October. Sometimes they/we need that booster shot of blessings.

It's great dog watching and socializing. Lot's of rescue people to trade stories with. There were cookies for the two legged attendees, and cookies for the four legged ones. Music to soothe the soul by who else but the Noah's Ark Band.

As always a reporter from the local paper is there to take photo's. And more than once, just like yesterday, our dog has been photographed, our names documented for publication. Now, don't get me wrong, but never once have we made the paper! Next time we see the photographer I'm giving the dogs permission to mark him.

It never fails that the teeny tiny dogs upstage us. Photo's of Chihuahua's, or Chinese crested dogs, or even better, a photo of a child with a chihuahua gets published every single time. Let me just say the bigger dogs (especially the handsome pointers) could use a little press. It just doesn't seem fair.

I supposed it's wrong to gripe about a spiritual outing, and really I have no bones to pick with the event. It was moving, and beautiful Hank got a special blessing. I just hope he was listening. Just like I hope some day my dogs make the paper because they are so darned adorable. Until then, the novelty dogs get the attention from the paparazzi, and the others all fly under the radar.

Role Reversals

Taking some boxes out to the dumpster I saw a mulberry tree across the alley with ripe berries. Instantly, I was a child again. I simply had to taste one, okay I tasted three of them. Maybe it's because in NE there are not that many fruit bearing tree's growing everywhere. I think, however, I just needed a child like moment. They taste just like I remember, and stain your fingers way more than I knew. But for children messy hands aren't a big deal.

Funny how in life we alternate being an adult, being a child, being the adult, wishing we didn't have to be, longing for the simplicity of being a child again! When we hit the moments we are the "adults" for our parents it is even more poignant.

Holding my Mom's hand at the hospital yesterday, I told her I'd need to be leaving for work soon. In what I thought was less than clear moment, she said why did I always have to be rushing off, couldn't I just stay and play. I'm not sure who was the adult and who was the child in that comment. But I know it brings tears to my eyes. I know adult or child she hit it spot on. How I wish I had all the time in the world to stay and play.

I would like to be a child again and have my Mommy in charge. I'd like to play, sleep and not worry. I'd like to have my kids be kids again so they could play, sleep and not worry.

Reality is we all need to take more time to play, regardless of our age. We don't know how much play time is left in life. We need to taste some mulberries, to hold some hands, to let someone hold ours. Today when I hold Mom's hand, I'll linger just a little longer, and savor it just a little more. And I will be grateful for the role reversal that made this possible.

Day By Day

How is it that the days fly by, the time drags, change (and healing) never comes fast enough. We long for, look for, dream of, hope for, wait for. And we do it not so patiently. Well, at least I do it not so patiently.

It's been a long haul with my Mother ill. And we have a long, long way to go. Funny how busy we can be and yet, when needed we find the time. Some of us do. Some don't, won't, haven't, couldn't, didn't.

We forget, in the rush, bustle, hurry and wait, watch and wonder, hope and pray to be present in the day. I, who am famous with my friends for saying "breathe....it helps". Haven't been so good at doing that lately. Several friends have asked what I'm doing to take care of myself. Ah-ha, excellent question.

It's time to breathe, to slow down, to not hold on so tight, to trust more, to worry less. I did that a bit today by napping, gardening and blogging. And by breathing. You see, it helps.

Spaz + Happiness = Hank

I've written about the joys of fostering. I've written about the sorrows of fostering. I've written at great length about the humor of fostering. It's time to write about finding joy in the midst of the sorrow of fostering.

I think I'm getting to be a seasoned foster Mom. Each one touches your heart in a different way. You never know what challenges the dog brings with. All you know, without a doubt, is your heart says come on in pup - we've got love enough to spare.

Hank brings to us all the best of the breed. Exuberance, intelligence, willingness to learn. Most people should strive for those same qualities. He does it all in his own spastic Hankster way. He can't lay quietly with you on the bed. It's more of a lean on, rub against, nudge you, full body cuddle with a dog who can't be still. He can't exit the front door unless he's going mach 1. He knows if we're eating at the table he needs to go lay down. The blanket next to my computer is his place of choice.

He's a happy camper of a boy in a chuckles the clown pointer suit. And he has mast cell tumors in his lymph nodes. There it is - the joy and the sorrow. Bottom line, he won't ever have an adoption pending. He will have a forever home with us. Fostering is like marriage it comes with a for better for worse, in sickness and in health commitment.

And while Hank may have not learned that in his first home - he will definitely learn it here. He can be as big a dufus as he wants, and he'll be loved. Well loved. Knowing that eases the sorrow so we can savor the joy of him.