Woof-woof.

I don’t know why this cracked me up so much, but when I came across it a few weeks ago on Pinterest, I just fell in love with this cute pup! From Pinterest Everybody else is doing “phelfies!” Why shouldn’t he?

Bark. Bow-wow!

 

Image seen on Pinterest

I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren’t certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying. ~George Bird Evans, Troubles with Bird Dogs

So true!

5 Dogs I’ve loved

1// Lady – she was in my home before I was. I have no idea what type was she was, but I just know she was always there – waiting for me when I was born. And she was part of our family. Then one day when I was 10, while I was playing at Nancy Lydon’s house, my mom called and told me to come home because Lady had been hit by a car. She was old and blind and deaf and just went and sat in the street. And somebody just drove over her. The end.

I sort of remember thinking I didn’t want to have to cry over a dog again. But I would – many more times.

2// Red – he was a mess. We had just left my beloved childhood home in Des Moines and moved to an acreage 180 miles away. And this big German Shepherd mix kept lurking nearby, scaring us, barking at us. But my mom, who can talk to the animals {for real}, kept pursuing and coaxing and talking sweet to him, convinced that he just needed her love. We learned he was from down the block and my mom believed there was abuse, plus Red looked to be starving.

Finally, mom gained his trust and we discovered that the owners had put rubber bands tightly around his neck, lots of them. His neck was bloody and matted and some if them had nearly grown in to his skin and she doted on that dog until little by little he let her remove the painful bands of abuse and cruelty and we kept him. From that second on, he was ours.

Red with my little brother, Danny, and little sister, Tami. 1971

I recall those neighbor kids at school saying we stole their dog, but they never bothered to come and get him back and they’d have had to cross my mom if they tried. Red was a good dog. And when my aunt lost him once while she was dog-sitting, I cried again. But he came home.

3// Duke – when we moved to Louisiana, we inherited Duke a family who had just moved away and left him. And we liked him a lot. I was a melancholy teenager and Duke was my best buddy on mild evenings, letting me rest my head on him as we looked at the stars and talked about the meaning of love.

A truck Duke loved to chase seemed to purposefully try to take him out and he was hurt badly and we thought he would die. I cried and cried and prayed and made vows to God. My mom nursed him and cared for him and prayed more than any of us and he recovered. Duke was a good dog.

But when we left Louisiana, we left him there. What on earth? We heard later that the neighbor shot him. And killed him. Booooo to that &^%$#.

4// Lady, Stephanie’s Christmas Cocker Spaniel – she was just so sweet (Lady II, to me). She was freshly weaned and the teeny one of the litter. But we knew when we saw her at the local pet store she would fit in to our family. The kids were all young, Steph was 7 1/2 that Christmas morning.  Lady (named for the star of Disney’s Lady and the Tramp, obviously) just had the most pleasant, fun nature and loved us all.

One afternoon, some one at the door, another dog got riled and got Lady riled, too. And as the other dog took off, she darted after him and was hit by a passing car, killed instantly…

We only had her for 9 months, but she fit. She was right, you know? She was a part of us.

My heart was broken to bits. Don’t know if I’d ever cried so much. For days.

Finally…

My little dog — a heartbeat at my feet. ~Edith Wharton

5// Sandy, the junk-yard mutt (also known as our faithful, family dog). But there have been none like Sandy to me. Good grief, she is going to shred my heart in to pieces when she goes. We were not ever going to do the dog thing again. The heartbreak of Lady II had settled it for me for life.

But Stephanie saw this abandoned dog running wild near the landfill close to DIA. Sandy was woolly and afraid and emotionally wounded and some ignorant person had just abandoned her. Stephanie mentioned maybe bringing her home and we were very ANTI about the possibility!

But one day Dave drove out to see Steph at her office and he ended up bringing this big, 40-pound, hairy, trembling, scared-of-her-own-shadow chewabacca-of-a-dog home.

That was 13 years and almost 4 months ago (she was fully grown so we don’t know how old she really is).  And oh the love she has given us so freely over these many years. She is devoted, loyal and totally a people person.

Sandy got to “play Sandy” in a community theater production of Annie in 2010. She loves the stage.

Her hearing is going – at least for obeying orders, not so much when some one opens a bag of chips 3 rooms away. Her sight isn’t good – unless you drop a bite of something on the floor. She misbehaves and pretends to be surprised that she is being scolded. Some days her arthritis gets the best of her hips which makes her wobble when she walks, though that is generally balanced by the days she still thinks she is a pup and she runs and bounds and rolls and dances with glee.

She is showing some signs of doggie dementia – erratic eating habits, not recognizing us sometimes, pacing in the dark  – just not herself. *sniff, makes me sad

But then she is suddenly ok again and I become certain she’ll be fine forever and we’ll always have Sandy. One day I will experience life without so much dog hair to vacuum, but I will never be ready for Sandy to leave me. Not ever.

Ruh-Roh

This was our photo goal:

{Source}

Omygosh! Barbara Streisand is 72 and rocking the high-heel pumps. So…

This was all we could manage. Another day, perhaps. Ha!

Some one desperately needs a their hair brushed (and the dog, too). Current.

Oh Sandy, you sweet, old dog, you. I love how you watch me from the corner of your eye when I have told you to look away while I eat. I love how you patrol the yard and make a ruckus at the hint of the first sprinkle, as if you can hold thunder and lightening at bay. I love how you chase the birds loudly one day, then share your water bowl the next while you just look at them inches away from your nose. They are not afraid of you at all. And you’re a bird-dog.  I love your big, brown, pouty eyes and how you know when I need a friend. Oh, pooch, you’re killing me.

You know there will be blogs, right? Many, many blogs about my heart breaking.  Because she is going to do that to me.

My goal in life is to be as good of a person as my dog already thinks I am. ~Author Unknown

The Dog Song

Needed something silly. Sandy-the-dog is napping with utter dereliction as I write and every home with a dog in it is just a little bit more alive, ya know?

Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really. ~Agnes Sligh Turnbull

PS ~ I am babysitting my grand-dog, Tuppy-the-Puppy

Her familia is in the Springs.  It’s the dog days of summer, for sure!