Caught In The Act

A look of love.

Cody was caught sneaking his muzzle in my coffee cup for the second day in a row. ‬

I’m pretty sure his stare back at me said... “Ohhhh... I didn’t know that was YOUR coffee. I thought for sure it was a miniature ceramic bowl with some handle thingy on the side.... which is really weird, cuz I don’t have thumbs. I saw it just sitting there on the side table... next to your chair. That was too weird, because how in the world would I get to that tiny bowl without standing on the armrest of your favorite leather chair to lap all the goodness from it? I mean…. you placed it there for me to enjoy all by myself. Right?

And yes, Dad... I do, I do, I do love coffee.

A Throwaway

Meet Chipper. He was a throwaway and labeled for euthanasia at the pound before a rescue group rushed in to save him. Someone shot him before the pound picked him up. He was a throwaway. He still had the bullet in his leg when he visited the rescue clinic. The vet surgically removed the bullet, nicknamed him Ammo, and also treated him for a tick-borne illness. He was a throwaway.

Chipper is Home

We met him on an incredibly hot summer afternoon. An hour later, he jumped in the truck and sat next to me. As we drove east, he watched the trees zoom by. Then he'd look at me with his big, excited eyes. He was a throwaway. He was a little nervous about his very first warm water and soapy suds bath. But he soon relaxed as the water ran down his back to his feet and the red clay soil stains on his paws disappeared. He was throwaway.

I named him after the dog my grandfather had when I was a toddler. He was the first dog I have any memory of. I adored my grandfather, and I loved his dog.

Afternoon Naps

Chipper now has his own food bowl and a comfy bed with a fleece blanket. He has four siblings that he runs and plays with for hours around acres of shade trees, singing birds, and mischief squirrels to chase with his gunshot wound limp. He was a throwaway. He enjoys taking naps in the sunshine, walking side by side with me to the studio, and he has a fondness for sweet potato French fries. This pup loves today more than yesterday, even though others kept saying he was just a throwaway.

Meet Chipper. He is finally home. #adoptdontshop #mansbestfriend #meetChipper

A Pup Story. One More Time.

It was one year ago today when she and I took a long ride through the countryside, just for the sake of one more time. I added several more miles to our usual route and also drove a bit slower, all to add a few more minutes of just one more time. She was weak from her years-long battle with cancer, but sat tall with stature and presence as she stared out the open window at every passing tree, signpost, and cloud. Unlike all of our many previous road trips, she took in every moment on that chilly morning. Everyone.

We slowly drove up the lane to our home, where her veterinarian met us.

I cried this morning. Not because today reminds me of a morning drive that we shared a year ago, but because I’m thankful for all of the unselfish strength Pita offered me. Like me, Pita expected order in our home. Her home... and she was dedicated to always keeping her siblings in line. After deciding I wanted to return to school, she sat with me in the quiet light of my home office during long hours and years of study. She had so much patience, helping me through not just one degree, but three. During those years, she was also the one closest to my side when I decided that sobriety was a necessity for me. She never once wavered. She was always there. Always.

That girl also had an impeccable taste in music, too. Or maybe it was her tolerance for my deep appreciation of the eclectic. We were always listening to music. Classic rock, jazz, cocktail lounge, country, not to mention all of those out-of-tune nights of guitar practice. She was good with all of it. Every moment. It was our time together, and we shared plenty of it.

I rescued Pita when she was a puppy, just a few weeks old. Her Dumbo sized, pointy ears outlined and framed her bright eyes. Those ears pointed straight up to the sky. In time, she would finally grow into those pretty ears. Rescuing her and placing her small, round puppy belly on the truck seat on that hot, dusty August afternoon is one of the best things I have ever done.

Life’s path always provides a remarkable way of healing. I recently committed to donating my skills to assist with a non-profit dog rescue organization. This coming weekend, I'm jumping back in my truck to volunteer time and miles for a transportation run to drive a rescued senior pup from a kennel in Georgia to his loving Forever Home in northern Virginia. I have always been a believer in second chances, and I do not doubt that Pita would graciously approve of this weekend's road trip. One more time.

Keep running, pretty girl. I am.