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.