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 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.

Threads of Love and Patches

He and Patches

Well-loved

I've spent a good portion of today picking up remnants throughout the house.

Patches is a part of our family and one of Zero's favorite playmates. Patches is truly living up to his name these days. He is missing several toes on one paw. Another paw is missing altogether and his stubby tail is split in numerous places. He has a busted nose, several missing whiskers, a limp leg, and lots of facial scars. It's real important that you speak up and very clearly when you talk to Patches because he's also missing an entire ear. Gone. What was at one time his lasso or a fancy adornment of some kind that he held with his right paw, now displays like some sort of major artery ribbon flowing out from his wrist. Yep, this is the arm that is totally missing a paw. Once again... gone.

A plus for Patches is that his squeaker still holds a great tune. Zero tests it often when he frequently and triumphantly runs throughout the house tooting continually his favorite song du jour like some master blues harmonica player. Zero's grand performance generally concludes with his big chest raised high while he tosses Patches from side to side with his climactic one-two, one-two high step big march finale. Epic pretty much sums it up.

Zero greeted me this morning as I toweled off from my shower. Just as quickly as he darted in to check on me, he hurriedly turned around and left. Before I was able to finish drying off and hang the towel, he raced back into the bathroom with his friend. Laying Patches at my feet, Zero then sat patiently with his big eyes staring straight at mine. With a quick toss of Patches to the next room, a flash of high-energy adrenaline and excitement followed the path of the airborne Patches.

Waiting Patches

I've picked up plenty of red threads today. This tells me that Patches' days may be numbered. We've had a who's who cast of lovable likes to Patches over the years. Some have had longer stays than others, but they have all been dearly loved. Once their stuffing makes an appearance though, Zero and I together say farewell as I tuck them deep into the trash can to avoid any miraculous escapes.

There's a far greater tale here than one of a pup and his worn out, thread shedding toy. The truer picture is what all of those single threads represent. Threads are like single strands of love that help to create the fabric. This pup loves happiness. He loves each day ....every day... and the entire day. He loves the simplest of moments, he loves smiles and laughter and pleasing others, he loves being loved AND more importantly than anything else... Zero loves, loves, loves to love back.

Perhaps we can all learn a little something from a few tattered threads. Peace, and goodness, and a life of days filled with loose threads and worn out Patches.

Threads of love

Best Friend's Promise

Best Friends

It’s been nearly one year to the day from that hot and humid Saturday afternoon when I met one of the best friends I’ve ever known. The day was probably as much a surprise to him as it was to me. Then again, perhaps none of that really ever crossed his mind. He simply followed his natural instinct to believe and to trust.

Although our introduction was unexpected, we bonded from the start. To add to my surprise and maybe his, in just four months, I would adopt him along with all of his unique little quirks, his bright-eyed spirited gazes, and his unspoiled life-loving character. Never once have I second-guessed my decision.

Laughing at the World

Zero and I spent last week vacationing along the Chesapeake, where the bay meets the Atlantic. The timing couldn't have been better. I needed to clear my calendar by disconnecting from deadlines, tasks, PowerPoint presentations, and the consumption of media, politics, worldly, and backyard crises. Our time away was beyond healthy. I found myself laughing more than I had in a long, long time. And while I still believe I did nothing wrong, I was scolded by my 15 lb. friend on Tuesday evening after leaving him home alone for two hours while I shopped at a local record store. How dare me? Fortunately, all ills were forgiven and any grudges resolved with a single peanut butter dog biscuit and a swim in the ocean. The world was once again at peace.

Puppy Dreams

Our time away was every bit of that. Away. We both danced together to an unending queue of great music, hiked miles and miles of scenic trails, caught afternoon naps in the warmth of sand and sunshine, and drove with the windows down along Shore Drive. In the odd event that we happened to forget, each day reminded us of our escape with a constant gentle breeze whisked in from the ocean.

Of all the things that thrill me the most about our friendship, is that it never once has included beeping, buzzing, or dinging notices of a new voicemail, email, or text message. We still, however, remain completely connected each day.

Focus

To this day, I'm still not totally convinced that I'm solely the one responsible for our shared promise. Part of me wants to believe that Zero stepped up and adopted me on that same day. Either way, it was a win for us both. Our relationship is, oddly enough, a mirrored reflection of that week we spent at the bay. It's always honest, loving, face-to-face, unplugged, and never requires a status update.

If he ever does need to leave one, I’m sure it will always read the same. Good boy.

day of busy

Day of Busy ©2013 Gary Garbett

Some would call a visit to the vet, a four mile hike, a warm bath, a lazy nap in a soft bed next to the fireplace, a car ride in the sunshine, and enjoying a cookie in the shape of a bone a day of busy. We just call it today.

Looking forward is often the best way to avoid looking backwards.

obedience

©2011 gary garbett.com