I picked up his ashes yesterday and now he’s home again. I feel both he and I can rest better now knowing he’s where he belongs with the person who loved him best. Blondie and Blue sniffed his ashes respectfully. And my Abdul bird has not said his name since he left us. I think she knows and is sad in her own way. She used to start every day calling him. “C’m here, T” she’d yell over and over till he slowly trotted by on his way out for his morning break. Now, she still repeats the “C’m here”
It’s an Alaskan thing
Sandals and socks in 40 degree weather…does anything else better indicate an Alaskan’s refusal to let go of summer?
Kids and animals deserve love and kindness
Last week was a hard week for me. Not only was I attending a seminar entitled The Alaska Child Maltreatment Conference, but I finally had to send my little buddy of 15 years across the Rainbow Bridge.
At the beginning of the week, the only thought in my mind was, “What PR genius named this conference?” By the end of the week, the only thought in my mind was that all our children should have as much love and kindness in their lives as Mr. T had in his.
Mr. T didn’t always have it easy. He came to me
The first night….
OK, so apparently the dogs take the left and middle side of the bed and I get the right edge if I cling closely enough. I’m glad we got that straight their first night here.
A new addition to the list
The newest addition to people who annoy me beyong human comprehension? Laura Bush. I don’t know why.
They’ve arrived
My two potential new dogs came over yesterday and it went very well. They are darling. We took a long walk and once we figured out who was on the right and who was on the left and where I fit in and how to untangle the leashes from my legs, then untangle them from my feet, then swirl my body around to unwrap them from my torso, everything went fine. They return today for good.
Blue takes two insulin shots a day and has the foster parents convinced that she can’t get out of bed in the morning because
My life as a show
Do you ever get the feeling that your life is one long sitcom and you didn’t get cast in the lead?
Blondie and Blue
Blondie, a lab, and Blud, an Australian cattle dog with diabetes, come for a visit on Saturday. If all goes well, they will fill the hole Mr. T’s absence has left in my life. Blue takes insulin once a day. I figure it’s something we can share. One for me, one for her.
Will they ever run out of ideas?
I watch the crime scene shows in awe and wonder. Will these writers ever run out of really bizarre ideas? Are these ideas coming from real cases or are they making them up? And if they are making them up, then should those writers really be allowed to be free in society? For that matter, should any writer be free in society? Tis a question to be pondered by all who wonder how many ways you can kill someone and make it interesting for a full hour.
It’s called personal responsibility
Soon after I turned forty, I looked back on my life and decided that there was some things I did very well and some things I didn’t. I was professionally successful. I had wonderful friends and family. I was a multiple pet owner who loved and indulged her animals in every way possible. And I was the worse practitioner in the world of the art of dating and relationships.
I realized, as I reviewed the detritus that passed for my romantic life, that I had a problem. Put one thousand wonderful men in a room with one scumbag and I