thank goodness we brought the dog

I've been following the story of the hikers stranded on Mount Hood. Yesterday, they fell from a 100 foot cliff, along with their black labrador, Velvet.
They made it through the night, thanks in large part to Velvet. According to one of the rescue team, "The dog probably saved their lives by lying across them during the cold night."

What a fine dog.

a dog story...

Crash victim says dog saved her life
German shepherd came to her assistance after wreck

Leo forever

Dogs like Leo often go unnoticed. They might start their life in danger, but they spend them forever grateful, aware and dedicated to their family. That was Leo.

I think it was 2001 when I got a call from a woman who rescues a lot of dogs. I was just starting to think about volunteering with the animal shelter in Austin, I'd left my name somewhere, that's how it starts. I didn't know what I was getting in to when I said, "Sure, let me grab my coat and shoes on and I'll meet you there." Someone had found a litter of puppies under their shed, put them in a cardboard box and left them in a field across the street from their house. The pups didn't have their eyes open, there were 8 of them, the mother dog was nowhere to be found and we were due for a rare November ice storm that night.

We each picked out 4 pups, completely randomly. Lucky me, Leo ended up in my basket, along with three other pups, Lulu, Clarence, and Dobbie. I picked up syringes and puppy formula on the way home and set them up in the spare bedroom.
That first night I just tried to keep their tummy's full. All four would wake starving, and one by one, I'd squirt formula in them, until they seemed content. (Here's Leo at 5 weeks.) Somehow we made it through that first night.
The next day we met back at the original location with two puppies and a trap. Our plan was to use the puppies to lure the Mom into the trap and take them all somewhere together until we could figure something else out. The field backed up to a greenbelt and we could see the Mother dog lurking in the distance. We hid, moved further away, but she stayed away. We waited until it was dark again and getting colder, then picked up the pups and the trap and called it a day.

So it began. Somehow Leo and his litter mates, Lulu, Clarence, Dobbie, Twyla Jean, Bear, Harry and Kodiak, all survived puppy hood. For me, it meant, messy, constant care. Everyone thought I was nuts, but like most times when people think I'm nuts, I disagreed. Leaving them in that field wasn't an option, the vet confirmed that, and I wasn't going to take them to the shelter or make them a problem for someone else. I knew it was something I was supposed to do, just that one time, so I did it.

The pups soon graduated from syringes and puppy formula to real baby bottles, and goat milk. A kindergarten class who heard about them made the puppies a project and donated bottles, blankets and cans of dog food. Still, the care of 4 puppies was at times overwhelming. I was recovering from my third surgery and the work gave me something meaningful to do, it was nice to give my attention to something besides my own injury. It was also good physical therapy. As I filled bottles and held puppies and chased them down and cleaned up after them, my arm got a steady gentle workout. So did my heart. I couldn't get too down and sad about myself when I had 4 waddling pups in the house, all learning to bark and wag at the same time, it was fun and it was crazy. All that puppy breath was good therapy.

One by one they found homes, but it was slow going. They weren't pretty. They were all different.

Lulu, who looked like a boston terrier/boxer mix was the cutest. She was adopted twice and returned each time. The third time was the charm and she now lives down the street.



Dobbie found a home with a college professor. He turned out to be a sort of miniature German Shepard looking dog. Very cute, smart and playful.




Clarence found a home, but quickly came back with a severe case of demodectic mange. It's brought on by stress and a compromised immune system, and is common in orphaned pups. We treated him and he seemed to get better until he went out for the day with another possible adopter only to come home with a severe outbreak. He never recovered and had to be put to sleep. This broke my heart, of course.

But, I had Leo and Leo was a lot of dog. Leo was smart and in tune. He knew people and he knew his job. He was calm, and loved to chase sticks and balls, but when you needed him, when you were having a bad day, or for me, when I was sick of being injured and feeling like an invalid, he'd be there by my side. He understood. Again, people may think I'm nuts, and I don't really don't care. Remember when you were a kid, when it was so easy to believe that your dog (or cat) completely understood you, when they had an unexplainable ability to sympathize and listen? Leo had that for me, cynical injured adult that I was.

I was pretty used to the idea of him being my dog, when I got a call from one of my favorite people in the world, my friend Meg in Seattle. Meg had just lost her dog of many years to cancer. She saw Leo's picture and she said it was crazy, but she knew he was supposed to be her dog. I wouldn't have sent Leo off to anyone else in the world, but this was Meg. I had three dogs at the time, Keni, Cowgirl and Molly, who had just showed up and made herself at home. Still, it was so hard to let him go.

I got a crate and Meg got Leo a ticket on Continental airlines. I took him to the cargo area, did all the paperwork and we waited for the plane. Leo seemed ready to go, he got right in his crate when I asked him to. When thye picked up his crate with a frontloader, he didn't make a peep. He trusted me. He had a layover in Minnesota of all places, so I called and somehow they let me talk to the guy in charge of animals who broke the rules and let Leo out of his crate and remarked on how scary he looked but what a "fine dog" he was.



Meg picked Leo up in Seattle with her then boyfriend and her daughter.
She said Leo looked up at her and wagged. Believe it or not, it happened that way. Here he is in Meg's little car riding home from the airport.
Maybe he isn't "pretty" but who needs pretty when you have so much presence?



Leo was the main dog at the Broadway Performance Hall, running the place, with Meg's help. He was there for Maddie's high school graduation and to check out Meg's new boyfriend, Dan, and later serve as "best dog" at their wedding with his bright blue bow tie.




When Meg and Dan bought a cabin and some land north of Seattle, they took Leo with them and they all had a wonderful time, as you can see:








I saw him for the first time since I put him on the plane when I went to Seattle for the screening. He remembered me. He came up to me and licked my face as if to say, "Hi, good to see you and I'm staying with Meg." It was only a couple of weeks later that Meg told me he was ill. He had developed an inability to digest proteins. They tried everything, even feeding him dog food with rabbit meat, but there was nothing to be done. Leo went from 80 lbs to 60 and kept getting sicker and finally last Tuesday night, they helped him pass on.

Meg called him her familiar, he was always by her side, in tune with her, just there, her friend and companion. To those of you who are rolling your eyes right now, maybe you'll know what I'm talking about some day. Maybe you'll meet a Leo of your own. He''ll show up when you think you have no time or room for him, he'll require you to open up a bit and do some work, and then one day, he will be right by your side before you knew you needed him.

I guess I needed a lot of words to let Leo go and mourn and celebrate him. I may have tended to him when he needed me, but he was there for me. He was just a dog from the woods, just a funny looking, sometime scary looking, crazy about his sticks, rabbit chasing, creek swimming, soulful dog with a whole lot of friends..

objects on the side of the road and Roy's kolaches...

The stretch of I-35 between here and Waxachachie might be mostly empty pastures and outlet malls, but I still find it oddly beautiful at times. Then again, I'm a 6th generation native Texan and I cut my state a lot of slack in the beauty department. Of course Larry McMurtry, also a native of the state, calls I-35 the ugliest interstate in the whole wide world. Maybe he missed a few things, maybe he's not looking as closely as he could, maybe he didn't see Bruco?

Bruco is a giant caterpillar made of geodesic domes. Bruco is where all the magic happens at the Monolithic Dome Research Center in downtown Italy, Texas. Just turn left at the Alien Space Ship restaurant, which is still for rent if anyone is interested, and you will find a little road that leads you right up to the dome home community.

I stopped in there for a bit on Monday morning. There is a sweet little network of little dome homes with carports and Christmas lights and fenced yards. Some were all fancied up with special facades for a Spanish or cape code style dome, others were just little round houses. The President's house looks like an Italian Villa that is made out of domes. It actually works pretty well. The domes will be one of the stops on the Roadside Texas series tour. I'm excited.

On down the road, I stopped in West for Kolaches. My neighbors always take care of the dogs and cats when I'm out and they love the cream cheese kolaches. I picked up a half dozen cream cheese Kolaches for my neighbors and a warm poppyseed Kolache to go.

When I arrived in Austin, I unloaded the car, let the dogs in and I guess I was just road weary and I let my guard down. I left my stuff in a pile the couch and just started puttering a bit. I knew something was up when Roy Bean was looking really happy and Cowgirl was looking really guilty. Cowgirl often gets guilt transference. If something "bad" happens, she takes it on, she feels it, she puts herself in the scapegoat role, though I tell her all the time that she's a damn good dog.

The box of Kolaches had a tear in one side, a tear just the shape of Roy Bean's smile. With Roy, now happy and bouncing around the house, and Cowgirl, almost collapsing in guilt, I picked up the box and looked inside. There was one damp blueberry cream cheesekolache left that Roy couldn't get to in time. Roy was sent outside. Cowgirl got a bit of the last kolache and Keni, who didn't really know what happened, got a dog biscuit. All was well again, and the neighbors understood, of course.

Last night, I was taken out for dinner. Just down the street from the restaurant is a house full of lights, and lighted objects, and animated Christmas toys, including a tiny Santa Claus that climbs up and down a ladder to hang Christmas lights. When the home owner told me to "get on up there and push some buttons and make them all dance and move and all", I took him up on it. The man's heart is all over the yard, meticulous and fun and colorful, silly and somehow electrically stable.

A good day, a good night and not just for Roy Bean.

dogs and cats and mostly Roy Bean

Usually when I come home from a trip, the pets go crazy when I get home. This time, either they know I'm leaving again today (their clues: the suitcase is still out, I've been on the phone/email, no walks...) or they just love the housesitter so much they don't care. She's like the cool babysitter you have when you're a kid. She lets them eat junk food and lots of cookies, let's them go a bit crazy and stay up late, and the cats get to come inside. It's party time.

I am just back from the vet though. The housesitter is a bettter dog petter than I am and she found a fatty lump on Jdg. Roy Bean's side belly. The vet asked, "Is it new?" I nodded, it's new to me, afterall. "He had a full bath recently". The vet: "Last week?" Me: "no...July", but you know. We both nodded and looked back at Roy who was really happy to be the center of attention.

So, the vet, who I bonded with last year after my cat Tux had an abcess and then when I saw him after the he'd run the marathon, did a little needle biopsy and 20 minutes later, the lump was determined to be a fatty benign bulge that we can watch unless it gets too big and gets in his way or anything.

Roy has also gained a bit of weight. He's at 72lbs now, so 12lbs or so more than he should weigh, but still less than the 90lbs he was when I brought him home from the shelter. He's been counter surfing, I think while the sitter's here, or eating lots of cookies and junk food and paper and staying up late watching cable.

But as my friend Dave said so well, I shouldn't judge Roy Bean.

i'm home and the dogs are crazy.

I'm home.

The dogs are nuts. It's been kinda funny. They come in my office and do a loop under the desk just to make sure I'm still here and they've been sneaking in my room at night and laying down really quiet and well behaved so they can stay and sleep by my bed, which is for them is the coolest place in the whole wild world.

I miss Molly. I'll walk past her spot on the kitchen floor and notice her absence. I'll get a little sad and within moments, Cowgirl will be by my side. She leans against me, looks up at me with what seems like true empathy and pats my face with her scruffy little claws. There is something about how much she wants everything to be okay that seems to actually make everything okay.

I got a sweet voice mail from a friend telling me he knows how hard it is to lose a dog friend and sending me his best. The message really hit home and reminded me that when you have to do something hard, it's too easy to forget that while you're being brave and strong, you also have to find time to be sad. Lucky me, I have Cowgirl.

I also got a call from my friend Kenny up in the North Woods. When he leaves messages he always yells "Stacy, Where are you? Where are you? Come and talk to me!" Then he tells me that they had a freeze up there, a hard freeze and it was cold, let me tell you and he and Pupper might just start making their way down to Texas again.

I don't know how Kenny and I became friends. We would just start talking when he came into the shelter. We both love our dogs, but, there are just some people you feel at home with. Kenny is one of them.

Everytime I get a message from him I feel like the world is a fine place indeed.

file under dogs friends

Molly W. Worthy b. ? - d. 9/9/06

Molly Wolly Worthy is at peace. Somewhere she can walk and run and wag her tail and play with stuffed toys and eat whatever she wants whenever she wants.

My vet is wonderful and they were compassionate, they understood, even as she lay there before him, he could see she was still sweet, still happy and he said, that's how he believes dogs should leave the world so they remember happy times.

I agree with him, still, being the one to take her in, to decide it's time, will always make me wonder just a bit.

They did let me bring her home and I dug a big hole under the rosemary bush. The ground was soft there, it was where she liked to hang out sometimes. I didn't think I could do that, manage digging a deep enough hole for her. Somehow I did. As I pulled her out of the car, heavy as she was, I knew that this was something I could do, should do, would do. It might be against the law, but it's the right thing.

Years ago when my horse, my first love, really, Golden Diamond, had to be "put to sleep" for health reasons, I had my first big heartbreak. I watched her go, too and I saw the weight of the world leave her eyes and I knew that she could be free to go whereever we go when we're done here. My old cat Maggie, after 14 years with me, I had to take her in, too. Saying goodbye to her, the cat who'd seen me through high school and college and who held her love at a distance until she'd crawl on me and sleep with me, that goodbye was another one I said alone.

When Molly arrived at my house in 2000, we'd just moved to Austin. She was a stray and I traced her tags to an abandoned house. She stayed with us. She would steal Annalise's stuffed animals and carry them around. She was already arthritic and the vet estimated her age at between 9 and 15. Six years later, she was still so damn sweet and loving. She wagged her tail with vigor, loudly, and she'd bark at absolutely nothing that anyone else could see. She had a lot of good friends and admirers.

I'm gonna miss the old girl. More than I realized, I'm gonna miss her.

It's been a summer of goodbyes, and new beginnings.
Molly this is a new beginning. I am one of those crazy people who believe that dogs have souls and that our job is to learn from them how to be better people, people who take responsibility for our place in the world, people who love them enough to be strong enough to say goodbye when the time is right.

I know there's a war going on and there are people suffering and starving and heartbroken, but I hope her friends can remember her with a quiet prayer and by being compassionate to all the pets and strays in their lives. One day some old yeasty smelly arthritic dog might wonder up to your front door and though you'll want them to go home, though they'll drive you nuts sometimes and pee and poop on your nice clean floors, and steal all your stuffed animals, they'll bring you love, acceptance, hope and some lessons. That's what Molly gave us and we'll miss her sweet spirit.

running, dogs, wednesdays

These days my mind is pretty busy.

There's a film in post production, one in development, there's a documentary in sort of production, and another in my head, along with a script or two and a couple of stories. There's the usual bills and house stuff along with our theatrical release of jumping off bridges (which is coming right along as you can see here). And, on top of that, there's the fact that my daughter is really truly leaving for college and there is much to do on that end, including cleaning the house in prep for a little going away bash, in addition, I'm processing a 'breakup' from that boy I was seeing for about 3 years. Don't get me wrong, there is much good going on in my life right now. It's not all craziness and transitions, but there are many details to track and things to be accountable for and it leaves me just wishing I knew someone who could make me one of those amazing Italian Stallion Martinis I learned to love in Seattle (just a hint of hazelnut liquor, not sweet, dry, but damn fine.)

Well, I don't have access to Italian Stallion Martinis now, so what to do in a time of such transition?

Three things:
Run
Walk the dogs
Hang out with the homeless on Wednesdays.

Yesterday, after a busy morning, I headed to the homeless center my mind full of lists, details and things to do and my arms full of three bags of Annalise's cast off clothing (already picked over by Kat and Tracy). As soon as I walked in, Homer, who can speak perfect TexMex/Spanish and English and who is our default stand in translator (and though he swears he does not have the patience to teach anyone Spanish can sit with a terrified Spanish speaker as we talk through options and soon they'll be smiling and relaxing and saying "hey man" just like Homer does cause Homer's just that damn sweet), anyway, Homer announces, really loudly, "you're late!".

It was nice to be missed. Really nice.
There were big smiles all around and lots of "Hi Stacy"s.
Now, that sounds like no big deal, but I love that shit. I absolutely love it and I love the hell out of my friends there.

I met a new guy today, "J", 55, skin and bones and sweet with lots of stories to tell. (I'd actually seen him on my run the night before, he was up on the bridge, with bags and backpack and he looked so thin that I resolved to go back and try to find him after the run, but by then it was late and getting dark and I just didn't do it.) Right after we met, "J" started digging around in his overstuffed wallet and soon enough presented me with a Jamba Juice gift card. He really wanted me to take it. He was very proud of it and for good reason, it had a sweet little flowery design on it and as he said, there was still money on it. (When people ask, I tell them that these little gift cards can be a pretty good choice if you want to give something to the homeless, sure it might be given to someone else, but it's still a nice thing to do.) I told him I couldn't accept it and made him take it back with a promise to try a strawberry-blueberry smoothie for me. After that, we were fast friends and I learned his story, or a good part of it.

"J" was sitting across from "DC" who likes to listen in on conversations. I asked J. how he became homeless and he just shrugged. "DC" piped up, "why do you have to call it 'homeless', can't we think of something nicer, like, 'not in a house'. To that, "S", a 50ish woman, a regular, who talks straight as an arrow, said, "well if you don't have a home, you're home LESS, don't try to pretty it up.' Good point, I thought, but "J" added to it, " you can be anywhere in the world and you still gotta have your heart in the right place, so maybe it don't matter where your home is or what your home is or if you have one or not."

Maybe it doesn't. I don't know. I still want them all to have one.

About that time, the phone rang and I was told there was a surprise caller on the line for me.

Sure enough it was my old pal, Cowboy (mid page), who I met about a year ago, and who called to tell me he was getting married! He wants me to come to the wedding and take pictures, which of course I will do. He's known his fiance 7 months, and said he just knew when he met her that she was "the one". (I guess being in your late 60's helps, with this, goodness knows, I'm not the only person to take years to study on "the one" question, too, heck Cowboy might be in his 70's.) Anyway, he wanted me there because he said I was the first person he met in Austin and he'd never forget me. The day Cowboy came in the center, was the only day I've ever been able to patch enough resources together to get someone homed in a single day. It happened for Cowboy. In just one afternoon, he went from being a transient who just arrived in town to having his own apartment, all thanks to ElderCare folks who went out of their way to help him. Guess he just has the luck of the cowboys, because Cowboy always said the only thing he wanted in life was a good woman, so I'm sure he's happy now.

"A" came in, not looking so good. It wasn't 2 weeks ago that he was doing really well. He had moved into an RV through the House the Homeless program, but now, today, he was dirty, sad and had a nasty spider bite on his hand. He needed a bandaid and I gave him one, along with a stack of alcohol towelettes. Dang it. Maybe he'll be happier camping in the woods than he was in the RV. We aren't all meant for houses or for RVs. Still...I hate it when that happens. We commiserated over how now he wouldn't be able to have me over for dinner.

Next, I saw someone else I hadn't seen in ages. "T" is a big man. He's probably 6 feet tall, weighs I don't know much, just a lot, and African American. More important, he's just as sweet as he can be. "T" has had my back more than once when someone lost their temper in the center and I had to step in between them (I know I shouldn't do that, but I do, I'm probably not scared enough sometimes.) "T" just has to stand up and everyone in the room notices. He asked me to get the checkers which is what we do, we play checkers and he usually forces me to win. He seriously sets his checkers up so I have to jump him, though I try hard not to. (Is it any wonder why I love this guy?) So we talk about his diabetes and his bad foot and his friend who helps him manage money and how funny it is that we only have one checker set and no checker board and we have to make do with a piece of plastic that has squares on it? But, hey, it's checkers, you can pretty much play checkers anywhere.

As I sit, "W" comes up and using mostly hand gestures motions me to the door to show me the bike he just bought, a beautiful white racing bike. "W" used to say nothing to me, he didn't speak a word to me, he has trouble with words. Now, he talks to me because I've learned to wait and let him get to the right words. We looked at the bike, then I went back to finish beating "T" at checkers. By this time, I had all kings and he only had two kings and despite his efforts, I won the race around the board, and he was forced to jump my guys until he ended up the winner. A first.

At that point, Mary breezed in and handed me a postcard. It was addressed to "Stacy, Lionel and Everyone" and was from "D" who moved to Seattle at the beginning of the summer. He was just telling us all that he's doing well and got their safely.

As we started final clean up and goodbyes, "J" came up and gave me a big, warm hug, so did "T". I asked "W". if he and "J" were friends and they both said, yes, but they go their separate ways, too. Then "W" took a long couple of moments and said "we're all friends" and pointing to each of us, "you're my friend and he's my friend and he's my friend, we're friends, all of us."

And, we are.

So, back to the beginning. It seems like Wed. morning I was worried about a lot of stupid things and by mid afternoon, I couldn't remember what I'd been worried about.

Run.
Walk dogs.
Hang with the homeless.

That's the ticket.

Hot Dog - Molly's our Girl!

It's hot in Austin. I have to remember to water the outside plants. The cats help with this, they lounge on the porch like aging southern belles waiting for a mint julep. I sprinkle catnip around them and put ice in their water bowl. It's the least I can do, they ask for so little.

The dogs, they ask for much. Molly, our oldest, sweetest girls is likely on her last summer. I know I've been saying this for years, for six years, since she first waddled up to my front door from wherever she came from. She's not looking so good, she's not moving too well.

Molly is the smartest dog of our little four dog pack. Case in point: A summer rainstorm
Keni worries, paces, drools and tells the others "this is the big one, I know it, better start praying and getting everyone in the same room". Cowgirl, always impressionable, believes him and shakes in terror. Roy just gets more neurotic and starts eating paper. Molly goes into the garage, finds an old towel to lay on and takes a nap. She's been through storms, she knows they cool things down and they don't last long.

file under: dogs

I just put Molly on special Arthritis medicine a week ago. My vet, who I adore, didn't even make me bring her in for an exam first. They all know that she's been working on her exit speech for awhile. After a day and a half on the meds, Molly was perkier. She'd hop up for a dog treat, she'd put her head on my lap and ask for pets.

I've been joking that Molly was about to die since the summer she first waddled up to my front door. I didn't know anything about her, but a neighbor told me she'd been wandering the neighborhood for awhile and no one would claim her. At the time I lived in the "good" school district, people there had money, but they weren't too nice to their pets or to stray pets. Molly picked out my house and I guess I didn't complain too much, so she stayed. She'd come up to the front door every morning, go somewhere in the afternoon and be back in time for dinner.

So here she still is.

She moved with us to this house, she has the run of the back yard and a comfy doggie bed. She has her special pills and yet she doesn't ask for much.

Truth: I always considered her a bit annoying. She loves to bark for attention, she wags her tail on the wood floor and makes a lot of noise, it's happy noise, but it's noise-- still I love the old girl and I'm gonna miss her.

I didn't know her as a puppy, I met her when she was between 9 and 15 years old, according to the vet's estimate. (This would make her between 15 and 21 years old now.) I can guess that she loved to play ball, she still follows bouncing balls when she can see them through her cataracts. She probably had a few stuffed animals, she's been collecting these even in her old age. She was brave, I'm sure. Once I got a note from a delivery man that he was afraid of the dog on my front porch. This was back in the old house when Molly would lay at the front door every day, when we were still deciding if she might have some other home. At the time, it cracked me up to think of an old, almost toothless dog scaring a grown man. Now, I've seen the old girl's loyalty myself and it doesn't surprise me a bit.

Here's her picture with her skunk. This was taken 6 years ago, she's a lot grayer now, but other than that, she looks about the same. We haven't seen the skunk in several years, though.

the best dog story...

file under: dogs

Roy Bean and the missing cookies

Roy Bean is our 4th dog. (yes, we have 3 others). Roy is sitting at my feet right now looking lovingly at me, the incident from this morning, is not even a distant memory. Dog memory is brief, approximately 3 seconds.

Roy Bean has food issues.

When he was brought home from the pound in February of 2004, the original plan was for collie rescue to help him find a home. Problem is, he's only part Collie. His release paperwork listed his health status as "grossly obese". At 94 pounds, he was at least 30 pounds overweight. So, while he looked like a collie, he was just a very fat long-haired mix.

He was tested for thyroid problems. His thyroid levels are well within "range".
He loves to play and run around so we knew he wasn't lazy.
His problem: counter surfing.

Months of healthy portion sizes and romps with the other dogs, has helped Roy reach his goal weight of a svelte 60 pounds. He still loves food. He is favorite time of day is dinner time. His two favorite words are "crunchies" and "cookies". When he hears the sound of a dogfood bowl being picked up he responds like most of us would to winning big with a scratch off ticket. Roy has lost the weight, for now, but when faced with temptation, Roy can't help it. I don't think he even tries to resist, he just loves to eat.

This morning I let my guard down and an entire pan of chocolate chip cookie bars disappeared. It all happened in less than 5 minutes.

It takes a lot of chocolate to hurt a fat dog. According to our vet, Roy will be fine, but we need to, uh, watch his weight.

Keni

This is about my dog, Keni. This is about my daughter seeing him across the street one day and telling me "that's my dog." This is about living in Seattle and feeling a little out of place and finding a dog who is gentle, smart, and who likes to know where everyone is. This is about going to the park with Annalise to practice batting and how Keni came along with us and watched and helped. This is about teaching Annalise to ride her bike and how Keni came along and helped. This is about a dog who once ran into a little lake after some geese and then turned around and stared at all of us as if he had completely forgotten he's a herding dog, not a swimming dog. This is about having a dog to help me be a Mom, to help Annalise be a friend, to help us both feel more like a family, like there was more than just the two of us. This is about being able to say on your answering maching, "Hi, you've reached Stacy, Annalise and Keni, please leave us a message." This is about feeling sad about something, or scared, or worried and having a tall beautiful dog come up and nudge you or stare at you so you know it's all okay. This is about having a strange man come up to you at the park one day and having your dog go up to him and gently push him away, that's what collies do and it works. This is about taking 8 days to drive from Seattle to Texas, with your dog. This is about that dog peeing in the entrance to a hotel where you stopped late one night, a hotel that allowed dogs and didn't clean up much. This is about having a bad car wreck and being in the hospital for a week and having your dog come up to you and then just sit next to you all day once you finally came home. This is about how thankful I am that Annalise looked across the street that day.

dogs

i have four dogs,and i shouldn't have a favorite but i do. keni has been with us a long time. he knows us best and we've been through a lot together. he's not much of a cuddler, he's a collie, so he has to make sure we're safe and accounted for. last night he laid down next to me on the bed for about an hour while i read, we both needed that.

i know my injury could be much worse than it is, i could be kvetching about not having an arm at all. i'm extraordinarily lucky. i am prepared for a long recovery.

i've got lots of work to do and i'll just start in on it, best i can. when the left hand wants to start helping out, it will.