Howling in Prayer

Many dogs ago we had howlers.  You know, the ones that howl whenever they hear a siren.  Police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, tornado sirens.  I had one cocker that would howl to some rock music.  Come to think of it my Dad howled at that too.  The howlers we had even taught the non-howlers to sing along.  It was impressive.  

Two things come to mind when I hear sirens.  Howling dogs and prayer.  I always pray for the first responder's. Dear Lord, keep them safe.  I have no clue when I started doing this.  

But then, I think of the dogs who howled.  Of course I wonder about fire house dogs...do they howl too?  Now most of us have howled ourselves.  Howled in laughter, howled in despair.  Howled at the injustice of life.  

I imagine sometimes howls, like tears, are the only suitable response.  In releasing that howl we open ourselves up to new responses.  In the case of the dogs, they probably got told to stop making that racket.  They probably didn't, and so we prayed for the sirens to pass quickly. 

Now I just pray when I hear sirens.  Maybe I have the dogs to thank for that.    

Who Do You Love

I have to laugh.  Used to be when we'd crawl into bed at night Reno would say to me first "Good night sweetheart, I love you".  There has been a change in that.  Of late, when he comes to bed I hear him whispering sweet nothings to Layla first, and then, if he thinks of it me. 

I'm not mad, or even jealous, just amused. She is pretty cute, you know.   I like to think that is because I'm secure in our love and he's still building that foundation with Layla.  Or, maybe she just wiggles more and wags her tail cuter.  I must be losing my touch.  Maybe age is catching up with me and I've lost him to a younger bitch.

All in all, I am a lucky woman.  He loves the dogs.  If he didn't I'd be in big trouble. He always supports me when I say I'd like to foster again.  Which is about every month.  

That said, I can drift off to sleep hearing him profess his love to Layla.  In a way it's like saying I love you, to me.  

Dig Holes Plant Trees

Of all the foster dogs we have had Jessie gets the award for excavation-al aptitude. I've been thinking of hiring her out.  She is best at digging random holes in the yard, but with some fine tuning I think we can channel her energy and hone this skill. Layla tag teamed with her yesterday, eight paws is better than four,  The mystery remains as to where all the dirt goes when it's been dug out.  Some must vanish into thin, dirty air. You just never have as much to put back as they take out.

Speaking of holes.  A coworker suggested she was getting too old to plant trees. Not physically.  She meant she was of an age where if she did plant a tree she would not see it mature.  I suggested she go for a fast growing variety.  

Makes me sad she has chosen not to plant.  She could plant tree's, hope, encouragement, laughter, wisdom.  We don't have to see the growth, we only have to trust the process.

And if she wanted I'd send Jessie over to dig that hole.  They would be done in no time at all, and then the growth could happen.

Breaking the Mould

As fosters go, this one is breaking the mould. First of all, she is not skin and bones. Wow, who thought that would ever happen?  Her name is Jessie, but she could just as easily be called Holstein, Heifer, or Jersey.  I say that in the nicest possible way. She didn't go hungry in her other life.  

Also, the is the first foster to arrive to us in heat.  Wow, who thought that would ever happen?  Well, I guess we kept fostering and the odds finally caught up with us. At least she's neat about it. And that is all I'm going to say about that!  

I do wonder, everyday when I get home, if there will be a menagerie of horny dogs waiting on the porch.  I could see at lab, a rottie, a yorkie, a bassett and a couple randy chihuhua's all looking expectantly at the door.  Or maybe they are camping out in a Winnebago behind the back fence.  Draw lots for dibs on her.  Frankly I don't think she'd be receptive.  But, what do I know.  

She is also the first one not interested in kibble.  But, my sandwich at lunch the other day?  Wow, do not turn your back for a second.  My guess is she was fed table scraps.  She must be disappointed we don't share many of them.  No doubt you heard her cry of indignation.  Stingy foster home, what is the crap they are feeding me.  Geesh!

All of them are different, just as we are.  They bring their baggage, just like we do. And sometimes they break the mold.  When they do everything changes in my doggy dog world.  

Fly Away Home

Dog's and rural airports.  I knew I'd spend time with the former, but not so much the later.  But the times have changed and thanks to pilotsnpaws.org dogs are moved across country all the time.

Our new foster, Jess arrived today courtesy of Pilot Dave and his daughter Jessica.  Not that I'm jealous, but no one has flown me anywhere in a private plane.  Several of our fosters have traveled in style like this.

Jess is the first one to arrive to us with a health certificate that says she's in heat.  What, what? Wait, Pilot Dave, bring me one not in heat!  But this is fostering, you get what you get and you roll with it.  Never mind that I have no experience with a dog in heat.  Never mind that Mick thinks his prayers have been answered.  We shall deal with it.  It's part of rescue.  We do things that owners sometimes don't have the Cajones to do.  In a perfect world this dog's family would not have given her up.  And she would not have been at risk of being put down.

 

So it's not a perfect world.  We are perfectly happy to do what we need to do to welcome Jess into the Great Plains Pointer Rescue family.  She can hang with us until the right person wants to be her forever home.  When that day comes she can fly away home with our blessing.

Mother's

We are born with one Mother, and through marriage are blessed with another Mother.  If you are lucky you get yet another Mother if you get married again.  


I have the equivalent of yet another Mother.   Well, let me back up.  There are friends and there are Mother's.  Some friends Mother you.  But some friends are more like a Mother.  I wish I could define that better.  This one I shall call my Blog Mother.  She follows my life through my writing and always has something positive to say in response to what I write.  She responds to most if not all of the blogs.    And shares her experience as it relates to my stories.  We have met a couple times, but have birthed our relationship because of my blog.
  
If my real Mom were still with with us, it is what I would want from her.  Funny how life showers us with Mother's.  Whether we are a Mom, or a dog Mom, or a Blog Mom. Whether we simply Mother another.  It's all good, and sometimes Mom's just show up in our life.  Amen to that, amen. 

Timing

It is that time again.  Time to pack,  time to move, time to put down new roots, time to make a commitment.  Time to say yes to a new residence and yet again time to make room for a new foster.


Yes, it's like a revolving door here.  This time the revolving door is spinning us out to a small acreage in the country.  We've been pondering if this is a brilliant decision or the act of the slightly addled.  


It means we'll be in this part of the state for a while.  Until now I was leery of     planting those roots.  Home was Omaha, and this was a temporary assignment.  Now its time to embrace what this area offers.  I can finally plant my Mom's hosta's, my iris and my good neighbor Ralph's rhubarb.  We can get all of our things out of storage and finally unpack them.


We'll have two bathrooms, two fireplaces, two acres of fenced land and two acres of yard, plus a portion of a small river.  Plus a basement for when it storms. Heck yes I'm thrilled to have a second bathroom and a basement.   And we'll have a new foster.


We debated taking a new foster right now.  But sometimes saving a life can not be scheduled around packing and moving.  Like finding our new home, it just happens, so you seize the moment.  Jump in with hearts wide open and see where the road goes.  That is our plan.