Feeding My Soul Week - Our Thanksgiving Feast!

Since we were at the Cowboys game on Thursday, we pushed our Thanksgiving feast to Saturday!  Matt was in charge of the turkey, the headliner for the feast, while T and I made side dishes.  Deviled eggs were made early for grazing while the real cooking magic started.  We made cranberry sauce from scratch from a recipe we acquired from a retired Texas schoolteacher - can't go wrong there! Next, we made our traditional sweet potato casserole, which is truthfully more of a dessert.  We followed that with a green bean casserole, which while not fancy, is a must have.  This summer, Matt's mom finally handed down to T, her sister's long-awaited recipe for Bacon-Corn.  This is an uber-decadent recipe for corn cooked with truly law-breaking amounts of butter, sugar and bacon.  We finished it all off with macaroni and cheese, stuffing and pumpkin pies.

The Headliner!

Almost done...

We each sat with our well-earned  plates by the fire and gave thanks for the things that matter - family and health, our strong pack.  The pups shared in the feast, each with a third of the enormous turkey neck and some gizzards.  With their sensitive snooters I can only imagine how alluring the kitchen must have seemed.  It was only fair that they share in the feast!

Arwen's Pack Thanksgiving feast - canine edition  

This was the first of my consecutive vacation days, spent with the people and dogs that matter the most.  And although we cleaned as we cooked, I was in no rush to clean a single dish.  But now several days later, and many leftover turkey sandwiches later, I never want to eat turkey again.  Maybe next year we can continue the Maine tradition of Thanksgiving lobster, ordered from our favorite wicked good lobster purveyor, the Lobster Pound in Portland...

Tom the...Lobster?

Please don't forget, we're in the last week of collecting items for the Military Dogs and their handlers in Kabul for the holiday care packages.  If you'd like to send some cheer along, please see my post here.

Stormy Road Ahead - The First Leg from Maine to New Jersey

Matt had brilliantly planned our route south from Maine.  He took into account the travel time and distance through each major city along our beloved East coast to meticulously avoid each rush hour and “sun in the eyes” time.  Our trip started around four in the afternoon, leading us through New York at dark. 

The girls seemed confused and edgy, certainly reflecting our own feelings as we left our beloved Maine.  What was ahead?  What would Texas be like?  We had no idea.  I can’t imagine the girls had any thoughts of this, but the drive early on was tense and uncertain.  We felt displaced and alone -tiny specks on a map line, eating mile after mile of road.  We wondered what our friends in Portland were doing as we lumbered on towards Texas. 

We kept our eyes peeled for rest areas that were well lit and busy enough to seem welcoming, but deserted enough to allow Nyxie to stretch her legs without creating a scene.  We stopped about every four hours.  We both love road trips, but Matt is definitely the one best capable of driving long distances.  The older I get, the more apt I am to feel dreadfully sleepy while driving unless something keeps me company.  Matt needed sleep on his breaks and the girls’ quiet panting was mesmerizing.  Haimmie slumbered in his hammock and Miss Poo continued being a snake – neither of which provided any sort of lively company.  My eyes started to droop somewhere in New Jersey until I saw the first streak if lightening.  Seconds later, I heard the thunder and knew it was time to stop again before the rain followed.

Haimmie snoozed in his hammock most of the drive, oblivious to the miles rushing past us.

The New Jersey rest stop was bright and gaudy, with neon signs advertising coffee and pizza.  I wanted neither but the girls needed water and a leg break.  Turning off the engine woke Matt and we carefully extracted the girls from their tiny half-backseat.  Each of these walks was nerve-wracking for me.  I imagined the girls dashing past me in their excitement to get out of the car.  I imagined broken leashes and injuries that would require emergency vet care.  I imagined losing my girls and that fear was physically painful.  As they were growing restless and undoubtedly infected by my own fear, I decided to slip them a sedative cocktail.  I gave each girl a Pill Pocket with dreamy drugs – just enough Ace Promazine for their weight range.  Another thunder crack, this time closer than the last.  With Arwen and Nyxie back in the car, and Matt still snoozing away his well-earned nap, I headed into the rest stop and did some comfort shopping – Twinkies, Cokes, a candy bar and a couple of bottled waters.  I couldn’t find anything I could justify buying in the rest stop, and just made it back to the xB (remember the magical car?) as plump rain drops pelted the windshield.  The storm was upon us. 

Note all the space around Arwen?  NOT taken while on our road trip.  Imagine Nyxie next to her, both squished by "stuff"

“Where are we?” muttered Matt, lifting his hat from his face.

“Still in New Jersey.  There’s a nasty storm rolling in so we’ll be here awhile.”

“Damn” he exhaled, settling farther into his pillow.  Behind him, the girls rested their heads and eyes began to droop.  I sat wide awake, scanning the parking lot and locking the doors. 

“Go to sleep, girls – Momma’s got you covered.”

Soooo sleeeepy.....

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Please check out a couple of articles I've written lately.  Feel free to "Like" or leave comments!

The 1st is about my imaginary summer vacation and is featured on the Fido Friendly Blog.

The 2nd discusses some of what we found in Dallas when we arrived and is featured on the HelloDallas website.

Keep It Simple - The Story of our Move from Maine to Texas Three Years Ago

Travel light.

Three years ago, Matt was approached by his friend about a business opportunity in Dallas too good to refuse.  We decided to leave Maine's fast declining economy and start fresh.  That was our goal when we first decided to move from Maine to Texas in a Scion XB.  If you’re familiar with the car, you know they look like little toasters on wheels.  These are not cars that you’d associate with luxury travel, but somehow, Toyota has managed some Japanese magic.  What looks tiny on the outside actually proves pretty roomy on the inside.  Despite the magical car, we knew to plan for our move early.  With 2 dogs, a ferret and a snake, planning was paramount.

Japanese magic!

We started by separating all the “junk” from all the “must keep” items.  For about two months prior to our move, we held weekly garage sales.  Surely, our neighbors would let out a collective groan as we hauled out our crap each weekend.  Living on the 3^rd floor of an old Victorian apartment building, this was both a challenge and a workout.  We were determined to start fresh and leave what was burdensome and unnecessary behind.  There’s nothing quite like unpacking a box that was left sealed from your last move and realizing you have no earthly use for the contents anymore. 

“So that’s where I put my old  insert useless item here !” 

Being together for almost 10 years, we’d accumulated quite a bit of Stuff.  Stuff was everywhere, really.  We had closets of Stuff stored for some imagined future use.  An antique mirror bought at auction – too large and heavy to hang properly.  More shoes than any seven people could wear in a lifetime.  Christmas ornaments and kitchen mini appliances, knick-knacks and old puppy toys.  We had it all.

Spare junk bedroom and the Nyxie blur pup

And we sold it all.  Little by little, we sold furniture, clothes, shoes, suitcases, appliances, books and artwork.  What we didn’t sell through garage sales, we sold on Craigslist or gave to neighbors and our dear friends.  It was liberating!  “Keeping it simple” took on a whole new meaning.    

We kept the photographs, the love letters we’d sent to one another, the plants, some clothes, treasured odds and ends, some jewelry and important documents, books I couldn’t bear to part with, and the creatures.  Miss Poo, our ball python, was placed in an old pillowcase in a reptile-proof Rubbermaid and Haimmie, our ferret, was set up in a cat carrier with hammock and all.  He wasn't sick then so we weren't worried about how the trip might effect him.  The girls were sardined into a half-backseat covered with soft blankets and pillows, their personal effects within easy reach of us in the front seats.  With everyone packed in tightly, we drove out of Portland for the last time.  It was a scary, exciting time.  We felt free and unencumbered by the Stuff.  The important Stuff was there with us in that tiny, magical car. 

The Pack was headed west- together!

Part V - Growing Up

Nyxie's awkward puppyhood seemed to be zooming past me at break-neck speed.  There were days that I'd look at her adoringly in the morning, then by evening, she'd look older.  I loved seeing her develop, but I also realized how much I was starting to miss that fat-bellied little pup who first came home with us.  She was becoming more agile, more able, even graceful.

Nyxie Noodle (One of our silly names for her - an offshoot of Noodle Cart Nyxie - don't ask, we're not really sure.) never had that super lanky, noodly GSD look, though.  And her ears stood pretty quickly on their own.  As she grew, she looked like a tiny version of what I see today.  A mini German Shepherd with fairly even proportions.  This was something we were surprised by after watching so many other GSD puppies go through the long legged, ears falling into themselves and every which way stage.  Unmistakable adolescence - you can see it a mile away.  We've been told this was due to her diet.  The raw diet being more appropriate for a dog, so therefore the stages of growth were more even.  Maybe this is a myth, but we saw it in action.  Her head, especially those enormous ears, and her paws were the things that stood out and gave us a hint as to her future stature.

In an effort to socialize this growing girl, and blow off puppy energy with zoomies, my friend Jamie and I had weekly play-dates with our pups at one of the Portland dog parks.  She would bring her delicate (but speedy) little Italian Greyhound, Vinnie.  And I would bring my clumsy little pup, eager for playtime in the grass rather than on pavement.  They were about the same size, and when Nyxie's excitement would get too much for Vinnie, he would let baby Nyx know in no uncertain terms.  Puppy Lesson # 3681 learned.  "THAT was too much bitey-mouth..."

Another good friend, Heather would occasionally bring along her Springer Spaniel, Napoleon, to these play-dates.  Poor Vinnie now had 2 wacky pups to contend with rather than the one.  Mostly, though, the 2 pups would entertain each other in a jumbled ball of puppy energy.  Colliding over and over, toppling clumsily into legs and fur, with tails, teeth and ears flying.  Dog park days were magical - there's nothing more joyful than watching puppies play.

The water bowl was in constant need of refilling.  Nyxie discovered the art of digging and loved the feel of the brown earth on her paws and nose.  We practiced recalls, sits, stays and walking heels off lead.  My little Nyxie blossomed!

Nyxie loved to tear around the wide open spaces and play chase with the other puppies.  If an adult dog chased her, she'd run until they overtook her, then she'd throw herself on her back and scream.  A long recall and a treat would usually snap her out of it.  Back she'd fly, her little puppy legs betraying her and sending her sprawling.  She'd bounce back up, shake it off and bound over to me.   She played well with Vinnie and Napoleon.  As always, she was loyal to her pack.   

On one such dog park trip, Nyxie went to hop back into Jamie's van and into her crate.  Her paw got stuck in the slats at the bottom of the crate door.  

She screamed.  I screamed.

She panicked.  I panicked.

Jamie calmly reached in, pulled her paw back and released her.  I cried like a weenie.  That's when I knew how deeply I was in love.  Like a mother whose child gets hurt for the 1st time, I felt her pain, her fear.  I'd have to learn to toughen up.  Nyxie shrugged it off, lay in her crate and sunk those puppy teeth into a big rubber ladybug that protested loudly with each chomp.

"I'm ok, mom, I've got this ladybug!"

We hadn't left the parking lot before she was fast asleep.  

Happy Valentine's Day...a bit late

I am intentionally sending you love letters late.  Why reserve one day for expressing love?

I'm a lucky woman to have found such wonderful, like-minded individuals here.  The creative ways in which you show how much you love your furkids spreads a bit of goodness out into our universe.  Something we clearly need more of!

Each night when I come home, I look forward to seeing what my online friends and their kiddos are up to.  I've only lived in TX for a couple of years and have a tiny handful of friends.  I feel so far from my friends in Maine.  I work a gabillion hours a week, and between the kid and kiddos, sometimes I feel isolated.  Not here, though - there's so much positivity and beauty!  This online community is all about comfort, kindred spirits and those special creatures that share our lives.

In a word - LOVE!

Part IV - Learning

Back to the Nyxie story...Part IV

Each new day brought new experiences for Nyxie.  Watching a puppy take in the world with fresh eyes, evaluate each human event and convert it into "dog" is amazing.  Each morning, she would sit up, stretch into a lovely downward dog position, tongue curled in a wide open yawn.  Then the kisses started.  Kisses for us and then a shower of them for her sisters.  Nyxie was a reserved pup around people, but every day she became more and more attached.  She made fast friends with Arwen, who was more than willing to have a prodigy.  She schooled her in the morning routine of potty break, breakfast and snuggling.  And Nyxie took it all in, mesmerized by her big sister's wisdom.

When people would see Nyxie, they were stumped. 
"Is that a Lab puppy?"
We heard it all - Lab puppy, Lab mix, chow, wolf, etc.  When we told people that she was a German Shepherd Dog, they'd shake their heads,
"But she's not black and tan..."
Finally, we gave up and started telling people she was a rare breed - an Irish Hellhound.
Somehow, this seemed to satisfy the doubters...

Our 1st walk in bustling Portland was a disaster.  Of course, in retrospect this couldn't have been a worse situation in which to put a country pup.  It had to be absolutely terrifying to Nyxie  - cars, people of all shapes, sizes and colors, bikes, loud noises.  We cut it short after a tiny little girl got loose from her mother and came running at us to pet the cutest dog ever.  Nyxie hid behind me, barking from around my legs at this poor little girl. 

Uh-oh. 

I sought the advice of my wonderful friend Jamie, a dog trainer in training.  She has a brilliant little Italian Greyhound, Vinnie, who can do a huge number of tricks.  They taught me how to teach Nyxie about our world.  I had some idea, as I'd immersed myself into dog training and behavior books for years, but this was my new baby - I was going to be shaping a brand new pup!  I had to do it right.   For her sake, I didn't want her to be fearful of our world.

Jaime worked in a dog boutique called Planet Dog where they held puppy socialization classes each weekend morning, under the watchful eye of the resident dog trainer.  Matt and I agreed this would be a wonderful idea for Baby Nyx.  The puppies were separated into 2 groups.  In the 1st group, there were
 the boisterous, knock you down to play puppies, "there's nothing that scares me" puppies.  The 2nd group was the milder mannered, timid, could play independently, shy puppies.  Nyxie was put in group 2.  We watched the Group 1 puppies zoom and pounce all over each other, leaping off of giant pillows that laid against the pen's edge.  Teeth gnashed, bodies rolled - it was a good time.  Group 2 was a bit more reserved.  The quieter puppies played, too, but more tentatively.  There was definitely more butt-sniffing and chewing of toys in this pen. 

We set Nyxie down and smiled.  How very sweet!  She sniffed around and investigated some other kiddos, played for a few minutes, then started hopping on her hind legs at us.  We stepped back so she could return to playtime and ignore us.  She lunged the gates of the pen.  She started lunging the gate walls with such vigor, that she actually knocked herself back and landed hard.  The gate was having trouble containing her and some of the other parents let out "oh's!" when she jumped.  The trainer told us to come pull out our puppy and give her a time out outdoors.  She suggested a bit of down time, maybe a potty break might help her calm down.  Ouch.  We were mortified. 

At home, Nyxie's positive reinforcement training showed fast results.  She could sit, stay, come, down, and give paw like a champ by 10 weeks.  With or without treats.  This kid was (and still is... usually) brilliant.  Her brain was constantly taking it all in.  She would watch and learn each new task, trick, and job in 2 to 3 trials.  Genius puppy.  I know, I know - I'm a bit biased.  To this day, I have yet to give her a task she can't learn.  Except how to "play well with others".  We knew this would be an ongoing trial.

One of my favorite lessons that Nyxie learned early on occurred during her Piranha Puppy stage.  She mouthed my hands as puppies love to do, and each time she did so, I let out a loud puppy yelp.  To this, she would stop biting and tilt her head, looking at me.  Hand biting stopped after a day or so.  Lesson learned.  Matt thought it was cute that she would nip and play bite.  Personally, I think he secretly felt silly yelping like a puppy.  To this day, she mouths his hands while playing.  If I place my hand over his, she licks the hands.  When I take it away, more bitey hands with him.  Genius Puppy loves her mama.  Genius Puppy has learned the most important lesson of all : Don't bite the hand of the Giver of All Good Things.

Brilliant.

To be continued in Part V - Growing Up...      

Happy Birthday, Nyxie! January 20

Four years ago from yesterday, a black dog named Kelly labored with the strain of delivering a litter of German Shepherd puppies.  She licked them clean, one by one.  She sheltered their little bodies from the frigid Maine winter.  A new year brought with it bright new lives.  They were born under the supervision of a wonderful breeder in Saco, Maine.  Doreen is the owner of Tiber Ridge Farm, a German Shepherd breeder and dog and horse boarder.  Of course, we knew nothing of these events or of Doreen until 9 weeks later.

Matt and I were searching for many months for just the right breeder and dog combination.  Having done German Shepherd rescue in the past and having experienced terrible loss as a result, it had been a long time before we would even consider bringing a new shepherd into our lives.  We were finally ready when we got Raven's cytology results back as positive for lymphoma.  We sadly accepted that her life would be cut short, even while undergoing chemotherapy with the wonderful vets and nurses at Portland Veterinary Specialists.  We could not have asked for a more compassionate medical team.

As the painful realization of losing a pup settled in, it dawned on us that Arwen would be alone.  Her solitude is unbearable.  She has separation anxiety for being alone.  The humans are fine to go, but she can't be alone for long.  Without another dog with her, Arwen quickly begins to drool, pant, and make desperate attempts to get our of her crate, even to the point of self-injury.  What a testament to the importance of "pack".  Our search for another dog intensified.

There's a publication in Maine called the Uncle Henry's.  Imagine Craigslist for a sparsely populated, wild state.  You never know what you'll find when you look through the Uncle Henry's.  I combed the "pets" section, hoping we'd find a puppy that would be a good fit.  Matt sought an all black shepherd rather than a black and tan, so the search was not easy.  With a small child in the house, Matt worried about the predictability of a shelter dog.  I yielded in this argument, as T is his child biologically - Daddy's decision trumped my open-mindedness.

One day, I opened the Uncle Henry's and started my usual search.  There, in black and white, was this ad:

We called and made an appointment to visit.  Just to look.

It was a wet March afternoon when we made the drive "to look" at the puppies at Timber Ridge Farm.  We vowed to wait no matter who or what was there, making plans for later in the evening. We were headed to a LAN party (where a bunch of geeksters load up their computers and converge on a fellow-geekster's home to play World of Warcraft and drink beer for the night).  With computers in tow, no way could we bring a puppy home.  No how, no way.

We exited the Maine Turnpike and followed the directions through residential and increasingly more rural property until we turned down a winding road that eventually became a gravel road.  Crossing a rickety bridge over a frozen creek, we wondered if we'd gone too far.  The land opened up and large farms rolled to our right, leafless forest to our left.  Then we saw the sign and turned down the long driveway.  Our hearts were in our throats.  

We met Doreen at the horse stalls and indoor riding arena, where we were instructed to go first.  Large, sturdy Czech German Shepherds, panting from playing in the mud, accompanied the truck as we pulled in.  The dogs were wary but confident, watching our movements and circling to gather the new scents.  Doreen met us and we talked for a few minutes.  Then is was the moment of truth.  We were told we could drive up to the main house, now that we had met her where the dogs were used to boarders coming in and going, they would allow us to approach the house with more ease.  As soon as we got to the house, the dogs seemed more alert, more guarded.  One of her beautiful males started bringing Matt his toy to throw, as Doreen brought out the pups.  

Sleepy eyed and awkward, two black pups emerged to greet us.  An outgoing, energetic fireball wearing a collar, and a doe-eyed, sleepy naked pup.  The first had been claimed and bought earlier, but was boarding with her former mama and sister.  She was all over us immediately.  A climbing, sniffing, chewing ball of energy.  I was secretly glad she wasn't available.  Her energy was just too much for our family.  The other pup was all about Doreen's lap.  She handed her over to us and the little pup curled up, clearly exhausted.  She was sleepy and grumpy, taking bitey shots at her sister at each frenetic lap pass while she lay curled on a lap.  They'd been playing all day and the little pup was done, spent, pooped.  At least until her sister started digging in the mud.  At this, the little pup hopped down and laid in the hole - digging and biting at her sister to keep her away from the prized brown mud.  

We were in love.  Doreen's perspective on her dogs fit ours.  We were looking for a healthy, sound dog with intelligence, a protective and loyal spirit, and the drive to work as she was bred to do.  She was also a raw feeder, something that I had been interested in trying.  The cards were stacked, and we wrote the deposit check.  We would pick her up the following day. 

Part II to be continued... 

Snow

We have no snow in Texas.  Well, at least in the Dallas area, there isn't.  In fact, I walked the dogs in a tank top today.  Now some of you might be thinking "How grand!".  No.  No, it isn't.  It's just wrong for December.

I remember dustings of snow, snow showers, snow flurries and all out nor'easters in Portland, ME.  Downtown, they'd issue a parking ban and everyone would have to rush and get their cars off the streets before the plows started their overnight work.  On those mornings, Matt would haul himself out of bed to recover the car parked blocks away near the waterfront.  Somehow, I was saved from this trek - he's a better snow driver than I am anyhow.  At least, that's how I justified it in my mind.

The snow and the cold weather was a part of each day.  You'd plan for it and get excited about discussing what storm might be blowing in with your friends and coworkers.  There would be plans made around the weather and the gear required for each day's events.  I had these special rubber attachments to the soles of my boots that had metal spirals and spikes.  These gave extra traction on the icy sidewalks and streets.  Snow chains for my feet!

There were days so cold that even Mainers stayed indoors.  The wind chill was far below zero and gusts would blow ice crystals into your face.  For these mornings I would wear sunglasses, (very important to keep eyes moist in the face of wind, and snowglare at a minimum), gloves, scarf, hat, long underwear, fleece, pants over long underwear, wool socks, boots, ski jacket.  And cell phone.  Always a cell phone.  You never know what can happen even in town in weather like that.

We lived near the water, a stone's throw from Casco Bay.  With the windows open, the foghorns from the closest lighthouse could be heard, guiding ships in through the fog.  We could smell the sea air every day.  Our apartment was located at the highest point in Portland, just under the Portland Observatory, so walking to it or away from it meant a hill in some form or other.  On these especially cold days, I knew I could walk Nyxie  safely.  With two dogs wary of other dogs, and one wary of all strangers, this is akin to going to the dog park in the rain!  I had the run of icy, residential Portland.  Arwen stayed behind, content to rest on her dog bed and be thankful for not being born in Siberia.   (She's an odd Sibe, who's never shown any excitement about the cold).  So Nyxie and I would walk down the center of each street, headed towards the waterfront.  The ice particles would swirl all around us and Nyxie's ears would flick at each icy onslaught.  Aside from the wind, she never showed any cold weather reluctance.  She would dance and jump at the end of the leash, diving into snow drifts and inspecting each white-covered shape.

Eastern Promenade is the road that faces Casco Bay.  Lined with stately New England mansions and B&B's, the view of the water is glorious.  The Bay sits across a vast expanse of snowy hills that lead to the dog beach, a small marina and a city park.  We'd reach this area and Nyxie would bound into the snow, headlong,  tongue lolling.  I would throw snow balls for her and she's lose them with a snowy CLOMP of her jaws, then spend a great amount of energy trying to dig them back out of the snow.  Snow-digging was magical to her!  Meanwhile, I would start to lose the feelings in my legs, my hands and my cheeks just below my sunglasses.  My L.L Bean boots were made for snow, but even they were struggling when Nyxie would shower them with powder.  She discovered that digging for my feet in the snow was a new game, and no matter where I'd jump to, she'd be a step behind me tossing snow with her great big paws until she found my red snow boots.  The walks back and forth from the Bay were lessons in walking manners.  I had her sit and wait at each block's end before crossing the street.  "What do good dogs do?", I'd ask.  And she would sit in answer, looking to me, all the while with what must have been a frozen doggie bottom.  I often wondered about that, but she never seemed to mind!

How I miss Portland, the people, the snow, the weather, and the ocean.  There's a palpable ache in my heart if I allow myself to think too long about my life there.  So I try and remember that although I loved it there, I can love it here, too.  Or at least like it.  I walked my dogs in a tank top today.  I suppose that's pretty cool in its on way.  But most importantly, I walked my dogs.  And wherever I am with them will be just fine.

 

Friendship

One of the great pleasures of my job is watching puppies play at our daycare.  There's nothing more joyful for me.  They leave all their stresses and anxieties behind and just run, romp and wrestle their cares away.  Today there was a new addition to the day care group, a sweet 12 week old puppy.  It didn't hurt any that he was one of the most beautiful German Shepherd puppies I've ever seen (a close second to my own Nyxie).  It was intriguing to watch him navigate the doggy "playground" so to speak.  Sniffing bottoms, testing limits, avoiding the humpers...all with great natural dexterity.  

Poor Nyxie never had this ease - when we took her to puppy play group at Planet Dog in Portland, she hurled herself at the gate until we were asked to take her outside for a "time out".  Red-faced, we picked our little girl out of the pen of romping puppies and dutifully took her outside and into the cold Maine air.  She showered us with kisses for the rescue.  She despised being penned in and was placed in the "shy" puppy group.  Still, no luck.

The dog park was her salvation!  She was able to get away from strange dogs there, hang out with the playmates that were her friends (Vinnie and Napoleon -that means you!) and run, run, run.  She'd run so fast, she'd tumble over her own legs and then hop up and run some more, her still-floppy ears bouncing.  Memories...

So today's puppy made me consider our need for friends, companionship and kindred spirits.  Like this puppy, we need to find our place amongst our peers.  We need safety and comfort.  We need to be corrected and we need to be bolstered.  We need understanding and appreciation.  We need love.  I don't know if I always give love as I should, but I try.  There are moments when we feel pulled under as in quicksand and that lifeline gets tossed out.  Like those first few moments of arriving on the playground, we're unsure and vulnerable. We take a chance and open up.  Friendship.