Paws N Feet

I was looking at Mick and Layla's paws yesterday. And then, I looked at my own feet. I stand on mine all day long, in the most comfortable shoes I can buy. They are protected from heat, cold, cement, wet, rocky surfaces, mud and all manner of other challenging surfaces.

The dog's feet are smooth and soft. The fur between their pads sticks up like little Mohawks. They are adorable. Mine, not so much. So, obviously, I should have feet like theirs. I bathe mine, scrub them with fragrant lotions, buff them with loofahs and pumice stones. Still they make sandpaper look desirable. They lick theirs clean and voila!

Funny how that works. Hands down, their feet take the cake. Dang straight, my feet look gnarly. Oh well, just the nature of the feet.

The Wise Old Sage

I like to think of Hank as just a happy dufus boy, and he was. But he was something of a Wise Old Sage. He was also an attention hog. Read, understatement of the century. I've been noticing Mickey is way more affectionate now. Behind that proper English gentleman posture is a bit of a cuddler. Perhaps he has wanted to forever, but Hank never moved away from my side. Or, maybe Hank is nudging him from beyond. No doubt telling him that Humom needs some cuddles. And, not from the upstart, wild child named Layla.

Not that I don't always welcome Layla cuddles. They just come in at high velocity and leave the same way. Funny how different they are. Young and wild. Old and stately. Yes, I'm still talking about the dogs!

I would hope to be half as smart as they are and even a fraction of how loving they are. I would hope Layla never finds herself in a china shop. She wouldn't do well there. And, maybe, just maybe, if Hank is channeling though Mick. Tell him that snuggles and lovings are especially sweet after losing a beloved pet. Tell Layla that she gets bonus points for comic relief, and tell the universe that being loved by pets is a special slice of heaven.

Notes from Across The Bridge

Notes From Across The Bridge to my HuMom and friends who have lost pets. Don't be sad for long...be happy you loved me and have enough left to love another. ~Mr. Hanky

What better message could we receive from the other side. Don't be sad for long. Be grateful, love again. How is it that a silly pointer boy could share these words of wisdom? Heck if I know.

Hank comes from a long line of "love again" dogs. It all started with Abby, then Fancy, Mick, Maddie, Buddy, Jackson, Bo, Kobe, Pete, Sidney, Sophie, Chip, Queenie, Jr, Snowflake, and of course, Layla-la-la-la. And there will be more.

But for now Hank wants us to know. Life is good on the other side. And, it's good to love again. I always worry when people say "I'll never get another pet, I just couldn't go through that again". To each their own, but I just can't fathom saying no to the possibilities of love.

So thank you Hank for your words of encouragement. As always, you are a one-of-a kind dog...

Walking

Sometimes walking with Layla is like walking a barracuda. She does so much better in class, not great, but so much better. In "real" time there are smells, grass, noises, Mick, plants, birds and trees. Surely she should not be expected to just walk. Her plan is to absorb it all, sniff it all, touch it all. Get me off the sidewalk, the good stuff is over there, and there, and there... She walks triple the distance we do.

But, she has a point. Life is not on the sidewalk. It is off road, and in the grass. It is in the puddles, ditches and bare spots. And, oh my, the smelly stinky gross spots too.

I ask her to walk my way. Perhaps, I should learn to walk her way.

Obedience Class

We finished our class and got our first certificate. I'm pretty sure it was a gift to humor us. Rather like when an education system passes the student on to the next grade because they simply don't know what to do with them. Although that is not a gift when that happens.

A brief synopsis. It took us 4 weeks to figure out that cheese cubes are like manna from the heavens for Layla. The 5th week we skipped because we were grieving the loss of Mr. Hanky, and on the 6th week we tested. No treats for testing. We were sorta screwed at that point.

Any hopes for winning the weekly traveling trophy for most improvement were flushed. I swear almost everyone in the class has docile dogs. By the way, the 6 month old Great Dane pup got Top Dog for overall most improved. I think we got robbed.

The first night of class the instructor decided we'd never get a "sit" out of Layla. She said pick your battles. The last night I got multiple "sits" out of her, without treats I might add. Helloo!!! We need a standing ovation for that.

Honestly, without us to make them look so good it would have been a whole different class. Truthfully, Layla has more spirit than all of them combined. Okay, you can call her spirited, or you can call her a wild child. She's young and a pointer. Maybe I just need to find a trainer experienced in pointers. Ya, that's the ticket.

Looking Back

It's been a rough week. In terms of special, I mean really special dogs - Hank was/is up there at the top. Not that we loved him more than the others. He just was especially special. I can talk about him without crying now. I can look at old pictures of him and just laugh.

I miss him bouncing at the front door when we come home. And the urge to grab all three bowls at feeding time is still strong. He left a big 'ol Hanky-sized paw print on my heart.

I wonder if the other dogs miss him. I can't tell that they are grieving, but then, we do have Layla. She should have been named Ms. Mach II. She has all the personality of Mr. Hanky wrapped up in a young pup's body. No off switch, if you catch my drift. And yet, she did pause in her shenanigans to just be still with us. I have to believe it was to soak up the pain and soften the loss.

So we miss our silly Hanky-boy. We give thanks for his time with us, and we look back and laugh. All part of the healing process.

In Heaven

Dear HuMom and other people, including Scary Man, Mick, Layla and all my other friends. In heaven the squirrels are slower. In heaven, I can run all day, sleep all night, and my bowl runneth over with t-bones, with a side of cucumbers.

It's similar to Nebraska. I know this because I experienced gentle hands, good food and the comforts a stray can only dream of. I didn't have to suffer from heat or cold, or pain when my time came.

I had a roast beast sandwich, a romp in the park after the squirrels and a soft quilt to rest upon. I was held safe and loved until my last moment. I was one of the lucky ones.

Every blessing you gave me I returned in devotion. I am dog blessed.