“If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie…”
Today felt like a scene from a movie.
An absolutely beautiful fall day—not a dark and stormy night. The four perambulatory kids from next door (the fifth is still a babe in arms) secured permission from their parents to go on a walk with me and my two big Labrador Retrievers (Polly and Casey). I strapped the dogs to a leash around my waist; the eight-year-old boy (we’ll call him 8), six-year-old girl (ditto, her, 6), and five-year-old boy (5) hopped on their bike, bike, and trike. 3 was in the house getting his shoes on. He came running down the sidewalk after us—vehicleless. Last time he rode a pedal-less two-wheeler; I paused for a moment thinking he might enjoy himself more on that. Then I thought, “Nah, we’ll get on better without it.” (Last time 5 and 3 kept close to me the whole time, usually holding my hands. It felt like walking in congestion—two big dogs, two kids, two bikes, and me in the center tethered to all of them.) Read More →
We finally got to bring home our puppy today! Still trying to figure out what we’re going to call her. We have to come up with a name that fits her and that we don’t feel ridiculous saying.
22 May 2016 Update: We named her Casey. And we love her. Even Polly loves her now.
Maggie and I had an agreement–when she went, she’d take me with her. Actually, I’m not sure Maggie ever agreed, I mean, we didn’t shake on it. (I should have made her shake; she knew how to shake on command.) On Wednesday morning, 30 March 2016, I had to release her from her semi-contract.
24 Feb 2004: Maggie and her litter-mate sister, Millie, came to live with us. They were 2-3-month-old puppies we adopted from the South Utah County Animal Shelter, through Lab Rescue of Utah. We picked them out from an online photo titled “the Yellow Girls.”
Baby Maggie and Millie (formerly known as The Yellow Girls)
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Needed a cheerfuller post than yesterday’s. The title may sound ominous, but it only means that I’m trying to wring the truth out of myself. Susan Wooldrige called it opening the window, but I wanted to be more original and July-ish.
So, this is sort of a poem. Read More →