Archive for the ‘companion animals’ Category

Eight legs walkin’

we love mom

Eight legs ‘a walkin’

Walkin’ round my home.

All just so,

I don’t walk alone.


Eight legs ‘a walkin’

Walkin’ round my home.

Oh, don’t you know?

I love you so!


My sweet little Ruthie,

You hold your head high,

Your spirit made strong,

Furry tail up,

wagging all the time!

Now that you know,

I love you so!


My sweet little Ruthie,

I remember you then.

Your head was down,

Furry tail drawn in.


Sweet little Ruthie,

I remember you then.

Jumping in my car,

Never looking back.

How did you know?

We would love each other so?

I know you were kissed,

From the angel I missed.

She waited ’til she knew,

I found you.


Every moment since,

You’ve celebrated your life.

Yes!

Hallelujah!!!


Your head is in the air,

high and mighty strong!

You are a big girl now!

So you be certain,

I am very proud!


Tiny…

He puts his large head,

so soft…

gently on my leg.

He knows where it hurts.

His big deep brown eyes,

gazing into mine.

Mine with fears,

loneliness and tears.


Oh, how I love YOU!

This is what Tiny tells.

He always knows when to tell,

Oh yes, he knows!

I’m amazed every time,

He lays his head next to mine.


He hears my heart call,

his little legs start walkin’

lovin’ is a dog’s law.

Tiny knows…

He knows when it’s time to tell.


Right when I was thinking,

It was too late for me,

Tiny comes closer.

Oh, can’t you see?

Oh, don’t you know?

We do love you so?


Yes, I say,

I can see!

I can surely see!

 

My sweet little Ruthie,

My dear boy Tiny,

I have not forgotten.

I hope you know,

I do love you so!


I don’t understand,

why took the two-legged left.

Oh no,

I don’t understand.


I cry and wonder why.

Why does it have to be this way?

Every silent day,

Every silent moment,

I wonder why.


I always end the silence,

Saying Yes,

I remember!

I remember that you’re here.

Yes,

I remember!


Eight legs ‘a walkin’

Walkin’ round my home

All just so,

I don’t have to walk alone.


I don’t know how to make it,

I don’t know what to do.

I only know,

I sure do love you.


I thank Lord Jesus.

I thank Great Spirit.

Praise Jah!

For the Dogs!


Thank You for the Dogs!!!

These dogs You have given me.


Love renews my spirit,

moving through my body,

healing my wounds.


These dogs,

they keep saying,

We are eight legs ‘a walkin’

Walkin’ round this home,

All just so,

You never walk alone.

 

Yes!

Hallelujah!!!

These are my blessings,

These eight legs ‘a walkin’


I always know,

I don’t have to walk this road alone.

big hound dog eyes says I sure do love you

Dogs give...

In Memory of my sweet Free…

Perched on the wood,

Crow spoke.

You can’t walk this road alone.

Not anymore…

You can’t walk this road alone.

From Free,

Crow spoke.

Thank You Free!


Thank you for visiting Dogkisses’s blog.


Pain, Fatigue and Dogs

dogs know how to fight fatigue, just look...

Sometimes I think I forget or am in denial of having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia.  I go and go and go and then I crash.  I try to keep a balance, but some days life demands things and I do more than I should.  That’s the way it’s been lately.

I have a pretty bad infected foot, which I thought was fibromyalgia pain, until I pulled my little toe away to look.  I saw what was NOT fibromyalgia.

A month or so ago, I bought a pair of boots.  I wore them around the house, just for fun, and also to take the dogs out in the mornings.  My foot began hurting after several days.  I’ve had foot pain before after wearing a new pair of shoes, which is why I didn’t do any close inspections of my foot, especially beside my little toe.

Well, it sure didn’t look good so off to my doctor I went.  He gave me antibiotics and cream, made a joke about me wearing boots around the house asking if I thought someone was going to come by with a camera and did I want to be ready.  Very funny while my foot was swollen and infected, but I’m used to him.  I like him.  I don’t like that sometimes I think he lets things go, like my foot!

It only got worse.  A round of antibiotics started to help and here’s where I went wrong, I guess.  I missed a few doses.  Now, I have a hole in my foot.  I went back to the doctor.

“Do you think I need some more antibiotics?” I asked him.

“No,” he responded confidently.  I would like to send you to a podiatrist with your permission.”

Well, duh.

So, off I went to the fancy foot doctor who didn’t have any manners at all.  I don’t know where he’s from, but I bet it ain’t North Carolina.

I told him how I had thought it was fibromyalgia for the first several days of pain.  Maybe that’s why he had a dismissive attitude towards me, but then I am so tired of trying to figure out why people who act weird act that way.

He kept saying what I hadn’t done or what I was doing wrong.

He sent me to the x-ray room where they took several images of my foot.  Fortunately, those looked good.

“How long have you not been taking antibiotics?” he asked when I returned.

“Since I finished the ones my doctor gave me,” I told him.

“You do know you have a hole in your foot don’t you?”

I told him that I most certainly did.

“I’ve been to the doctor twice already.  I would have gone to the emergency room if I hadn’t known I was coming here.”

“You’re wearing closed shoes first of all,” he said in a tone that I didn’t like.

It was cold outside.  My family doctor had complimented my shoes.  Why had he not put me on another antibiotic I wondered.

The foot doctor explained how serious the infection is because of where it is and I’m too tired to describe it, but I took heed!  It can go up and into my leg if it gets worse.  He says if I do everything he told me to do then it should be getting well within a week.

So far so good.  Ten days of a very strong antibiotic.

I’d told my family doctor how my son said I was going to lose my foot and later, my leg when he saw it getting worse.  The doctor joked again saying not to let him get near any knives.  From what the foot doctor said, my son wasn’t far off from being right.

The good news is that hopefully, the antibiotics, along with soaking it in vinegar water will heal it.  The soaks hurt like crazy.

I dislike antibiotics very much and this one is kicking me down like a sick dog.

Tiny love hereSpeaking of dogs, mine are once again being very good nurses.

Yesterday, when I finally returned from the hospital, I lied down and put my foot up.  I know they felt how stressed I was.

Our big guy, Tiny, (the cutie with the big head) whom I’m going to write about soon, well, he crawled up beside me on the sofa and lied down on barely enough space for his wide body and put his head on my belly.  That’s what he’s been doing for the past few months whenever I don’t feel good.  He lies there looking at me with his big beautiful hound dog eyes.  Yesterday, just for extras, he gave me a kiss.  He doesn’t give many.  I felt very special indeed.

My pretty little girl curled up at my feet in her soft ball of silky fur.  She is absolutely the softest dog I’ve ever petted in my life.  Absolutely!

Dogs Rule!!!

They were incredibly sweet with both of their heads resting on me and their eyes saying, “OH WE LOVE YOU!”

cooking for mom

I’m also grateful to my son for the many meals he has cooked for me lately. I’ve gained a few pounds, which is a very good thing.

However, he is staying with me and it is driving me a little nuts.  I’ll be glad when he wants to go back to his apartment.

Just the truth.

I’m going to give in to the fatigue for a little while, which means I’ll have to be alone.

I think I’ll finish a good novel I started weeks ago, The Accidental Tourist, by Anne Tyler.

I’m tired.  Too tired to think much.  I’ve been writing, but have nothing ready to click publish.

With that said, I’m offering a few links of interest I found today about pain.

I am here to tell anyone who suffers from pain each day, whose life is circumscribed and whose goals are slipping out of reach, that you are at last being heard. We are in a pain renaissance.”

Read more: “The End of Ouch” –TIME


–“an adaptive mechanism in which severe pain in one area of the body inhibits pain in another is impaired among women with fibromyalgia. Normally, this system works as a check on the amount of pain the brain can handle; if your arm is sore and someone steps hard on your toe, your arm will temporarily feel better as all of your brain’s pain attention is focused on the new insult. In chronic-pain patients, this mechanism is faulty or nonexistent.”

image of sleeping dog via OLX, Tiredness Disorders



we love mom
Thanks for visiting Dogkisses’s blog.


Funny pet note

write your dogs a letter explaining the house rules! Pet lovers will love this!

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE PETS, THIS IS A TRUE STORY.

FOR THOSE THAT DON’T, IT IS A TRUE STORY.

The following was found posted very low on a refrigerator door.

Dear Dogs and Cats: The dishes on the floor with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate does not mean that is is suddenly your food, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Racing me to the top of the stairs is not the object. Tripping me doesn’t help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space that you are taking up, is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom! If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years – canine/feline attendance is not required.

The proper order for kissing is: Kiss me first, then go smell the other dog or cat’s butt. I cannot stress this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dear pets, I have posted the following message on the front door:

TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR PETS:

(1) They live here. You don’t.

(2) If you don’t want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That’s why they call it ‘fur’-niture.

(3) I like my pets a lot better than I like most people..

(4) To you, they are animals. To me, they are adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don’t speak clearly.

Remember, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

(1) eat less,

(2) don’t ask for money all the time,

(3) are easier to train,

(4) normally come when called,

(5) never ask to drive the car,

(7) don’t smoke or drink,

(8) don’t want to wear your clothes,

(9) don’t have to buy the latest fashions,

(10) don’t need a gazillion dollars for college and

(11) if they get pregnant, you can sell their children…..(*_*)

This “pet note” came in as an email from my friend, Rosemary, who has a wonderful health blog about living with chronic pain, Seeking Equilibrium.

Thanks for sharing Rosemary!

 

Who deserves more credit?

a dog that deserves more credit than he gets

One of the topics in The Daily Post “PostAWeek”  challenge is, “Who deserves more credit than they get?”

I couldn’t decide between bloggers, dishwashers or dogs, because they all deserve more credit than they get.

Dogs deserve more credit than they get for giving people companionship and unconditional love.  Dogs are particularly important to people living with chronic illness or a disability that has caused isolation and often alienation from family, friends, community and society.

Many people I know who live with chronic illness have a dog.  They are our four-legged friends who are there for us no matter what.  A dog can make us smile when we are in pain.  They’ll get up with us in the wee hours of the mornings when everyone else is sleeping.  They give us a reason to take walks or get outside for fresh air.  Their fur is soft and petting them calms us.  Their spirits are overflowing with sweetness.  Dogs give.  That’s what they do.  They give and they keep on giving.

Sometimes, and this is one of the greatest gifts that I get from the love of a dog, they offer a reason to keep on living.

“They can’t be nurses, doctors or teachers!” a desk attendant working at a hospital said to me one time.  We had struck up a conversation while I was waiting on a relative.  She became upset when I told her about my dog who was receiving medical care for bone cancer.

“There are children starving!  I can’t believe people spend money on a dog’s health care, while there are children who do not have the things they need,” she said.

I wondered how many of the nurses or doctors had dogs.  I knew the woman wouldn’t understand about spending money on a sick dog no matter what I said so I changed the subject.

Personally, I think dogs can help people be better nurses, doctors or teachers.  Plus, mine are all that and more.   Dogs can also make these jobs easier by giving love and companionship to patients and students.

I’ve been pretty sick for the past six months.  Recently, there have been times when I thought I would have to call for emergency help.  My dogs have been vigilant caretakers.  The older dog hasn’t left my side in over two months.  If I get up at 3am, so does he.  He knows I’m not well.  He is simply amazing.  I’ll be thinking the worst thoughts and he gets as close to my body as he can.  He doesn’t usually give kisses but lately, out of the blue, he’ll give me a quick little kiss as if to remind me they are here.

My dogs love me and they need me.  In this way, they literally save my life, over and over.

We hear about enormous amounts of money some people spend on their pets.  It’s true that veterinarian bills are expensive, but that isn’t the same thing as extravagant amounts of money spent for things like diamond covered collars, fur coats and all sorts of weird things a dog certainly doesn’t need and likely doesn’t care about.

I’d rather pay for a dog to get medical care than pay for my hair to be colored, manicures, an expensive car or the expensive things plenty of people spend money on.  This is a personal choice and comparably, I must admit, I think a dog is a heck of a lot more fun than what non-dog owners spend money on.

I don’t think it makes sense to criticize pet owners for spending money on pets, while people are in debt because they wanted a big screen television in every room of their house.

I’ve been judged and criticized for spending money on a dog and I find this pretty absurd.

A landlord I called once about an apartment got so angry when I told her that I live on a fixed income and have a dog, that I thought she was going to have a heart attack.  No joke.  She was ready to rent me the sweetest little cottage in the mountains.  She was praising me for raising a son alone and going to college.  I was all this and that, until I told her about my dog.  She started screaming at me over the telephone about how she was paying for my dog’s food via her taxes.

“I can’t believe you have a dog!” the woman shouted.   “It ought to be against the law for people who get help to have a dog.  I can’t believe it!”

I told the woman how little the dog’s food cost, but that didn’t matter.  I hung up on her because she wouldn’t stop screaming at me.

Magically, the next day I met the greatest landlord a dog owner could hope for.  She kept asking if I was sure the place was good enough for my dog.  We ended up being nice friends.

Fortunately and just as magically, the landlords I rent from now are wonderful and love my dogs.  I was afraid they wouldn’t allow me to have the bigger dog but when they saw him one of them said, “You are lucky to have him.  He’ll protect you out here.”

My family used to make remarks about how I could have a better place to live if I didn’t have dogs or that I would be free to come visit them since they won’t allow dogs in their homes.  After years gone by, I believe they recognize more the value of my dogs, but they still don’t let my dogs come inside and as a result, I hardly ever get to visit them.

Dogs help people in so many ways.  Being there for a sick person when everyone else is waiting on her to feel better is a great deed.

Their companionship and love make people feel happy.  I read once where being lonely is the number one reason for suicide.  I believe the love of a dog can help prevent this.

As I write, my son is visiting for the holiday.  He hasn’t felt so great lately either.   He has some serious health challenges in life.  After dinner this evening he suddenly got the biggest smile on his face.  His dog was lying on his back with his short legs up in the air.  He rests like that (he’s part Basset Hound) and he looks very funny when he does it.

My son went over and lied down beside him to rub his belly.  I guess most dogs like to have their belly rubbed.  Our younger dog was in on the scene shortly after.  It was such a wonderful moment.  My son looked happy and this made me feel good.  Both dogs were smothering him with love.

I asked him how he felt around his dog.  I like to use words to express my feelings and experience.  I think it’s good to have a way to talk about things.

He could barely talk without laughing when he tried to respond.  “Loyal, he’s so loyal.”

My son continued on, “He’s my protector.  Awww.  He loves me.  Look at him,” and he laughed again while he rubbed his best friend’s soft belly.  “He wants me to hug him.  Awww.  He’s so sweet!”  My son let out a deep breath of air.  He looked content and lied back on the sofa to rest.  I’ve always said, and definitely believe, that dogs are good medicine.

Earlier today the dog jumped from the back seat to the front and was out of the car as soon as the door opened when I arrived at my son’s apartment.  The dog is getting old, but so far this hasn’t slowed him down when he sees his true master.

This dog is a very special dog.  He has saved my son’s life several times.  He definitely deserves more credit than he gets.

Some people used to remark that this dog is a burden to me.  He is stronger than I am, which makes walking him a creative and carefully planned task.  He has seizures that break my heart, but not so many that they lessen his quality of life.  He is no burden.  He is a gift, a blessing and like all dogs, a teacher.

Thank you for visiting my blog.

dogkisses.


 

My little drop of heaven

She sees everything, hears everything, and feels everything.  I can’t hide anything from her.  She feels what I feel.  I often wish she didn’t.  I don’t always want her to feel what I feel, but I can’t hide from her.

Her sensitive nature is part of what makes her so incredibly adorable and lovable.  Its part of what brings joy to children and any person whose heart has a place where tenderness can be felt.

She doesn’t ignore the moment.  She pays close attention.   She’s intensely affected by her environment.

I wouldn’t change a thing about her.  I love her just the way she is and I love the way she is.

I’ve tried to change in me the same traits I love so much about her.  Maybe, if I pay attention, she will teach me that being sensitive and showing feelings is an okay way to be.  In her, it’s a beautiful way to be.  She’s honest and refreshingly expressive.  Maybe, if I listen, she will teach me to embrace what is so.

Today she came to me when I called for her.  I’ve known her and loved her almost five years and she finally walked straight to me without turning around half way to rethink things.

She walked towards me with more confidence and without fear.  I saw a trust in her eyes that felt new.  I can’t believe she is still learning to trust, but she is.

Her trust is a gift.  I felt it when she gave it.

She doesn’t owe trust to any person.  I don’t know what happened to my girl in her seven months of living before I met her.  I don’t want to know.

I understand her cautiousness, even though I don’t know the details of her early life.  I understand her and she understands me.  Neither of us knows what happened to each other before we met.  We just know things happened.

She and I are a lot alike.

She took me outside twice today.   She took me where the early morning sun warmed my face.  A cool crisp air reminded me of the changing season.

She has a lot to teach me, if I listen.

She’s my little drop of heaven who walks on four legs.

she takes me into the morning light



Little creatures are great teachers

Dogs can talk and if we listen we can hear what they have to say.

Keeping a safe distance at the dog park

I’ve never met a dog that couldn’t talk but some have a lot more to say than others do.  My girl Ruthie told me just a second ago how much she loves being loved.

Oh she’s the sweetest, and I mean THE SWEETEST 4-legged I’ve ever met!

She talks all the time.  She tells me dog stories.  Mostly they consist of her great insect-hunting adventures.  There isn’t any insect that gets by her, which is at times frightening to me.  She doesn’t say much about the snake I wouldn’t let her kill, which she found underneath my bookcase in the living room.  It was rightfully hers and the animal control officer who I called to come and help me said exactly that.  “You ought to set that dog loose in there.  She’d take care of it long before I could get there.”

No way was I going to set my dog loose to capture that snake!  My friend who has spent a lot of time in Africa ended up coming over, dressed in his Safari hat, which was pretty funny.  He was able to get the snake to exit through my sliding glass door.  He also enjoyed making fun of me for being scared of what he called a little black snake, but believe me, it was not so little.  I guess if you’ve seen African cobras it was little.

I had a mouse in the same apartment as the snake was in until Ruthie came to live with us.  She sat up for two nights straight, just sitting in the kitchen, watching the place where I knew that mouse was.  He, or she, left.  I guess it simply couldn’t find a way out.  Ruthie is as good as any cat.  I never heard from that mouse again.

As to insects, she hasn’t told me yet how she knows where they are, especially in the middle of the night when the lights are all off.  Suddenly I’ll wake up to her running from the bedroom where she sleeps to the kitchen or living room.  I’ll get up and I find her in a corner where she has either discovered or captured an insect.  I can’t figure out if she hears them crawling or smells them and like I said, she has not told me her secret yet.

She’s a great insect hunter with natural eye-liner that gives her a Cleopatra kind of look, earning her the royal title of an Egyptian Beetle Hound.

I don’t know where Ruthie came from before I met her, which was at the local shelter, other than she had been recently returned by a family who had adopted her two weeks before I did.  They had a toddler who was allergic to dog hair, or so they said.

Ruthie was certainly shedding when I first met her.  Within an hour of her being inside my home the floor was nearly covered in dog hairs, which comforted my grieving heart.

I’d lost my Free girl only six or seven weeks before I met Ruthie.  Free is the gorgeous black lab in my post, I AM FREE.   There were still some of her hairs in the corners of my living room.  I had purposefully missed those spots while vacuuming shortly after she had to leave this earth.  I tried to keep any  reminder of my girl around for as long as I could, especially her scent.  I missed everything about her.

When my apartment began to have that kind of house smell that comes with homes without dogs, I felt like it was sterile and empty.  Lifeless.

A house without a dog is a sad lonely place to me.  I learned I definitely don’t like it.  I found myself downtown helping homeless people at strange hours of the night.  I’m really not cut out for that.  It isn’t my passion.  It was however, better than returning to a home without my beloved Free girl.

The first day I got Ruthie I couldn’t wait to show her where she would be living.  I knew she would like it better than that dirty shelter.  She was totally psyched!  She knew it was her home too.

Ruthie knew I was her new owner as we walked out of the shelter.  I didn’t know at the time she had most likely been abused and the shelter couldn’t tell me that information.  I would soon learn that she was scared of people until she knew if they were okay or not.  She was scared of just about everything, except our other dog, Tiny.  Looking back to the day I adopted her, knowing now how scared she was of the world, I’m happy to know that she jumped into my car as quickly as I had opened the door.  The look on her face said let’s get the heck out of here.  She didn’t look back as we drove away.

I needed a shower after the several hours of the adoption process, which had included a trip to my favorite pet store to get her a few toys and of course, I wanted to show her off to the owner.  I was quite proud of my new friend.

She barked at the entrance to the bathroom and ran in circles the entire time I showered.  While I dried off she was calm.  I walked into the living room and saw where she had enjoyed a bit of wine tasting from a glass that was sitting on the fire-place hearth from the night before.  Then I noticed a pack of cigarettes, lying on the middle of the floor, completely shredded.

Ruthie looked quite proud of herself.  She was lying right beside of the tobacco strewn across the floor with the same look Free had the time she brought me a dead bird as a gift after I scolded her one day.  I know… that poor bird.

I had a suspicious feeling that someone had taught Ruthie to shred a pack of cigarettes.

The next day it happened again.  She barked at the shower, ran in circles, and got quiet while I was drying off.  There she was again, lying beside of her destruction and again, with a look of pride on her face.

After only a couple of days the shedding and shredding stopped and I’ve had her four years.  I think she’s allergic to toddlers and that was why she was shedding so much.  She’s still scared of all people less than about four feet tall.  She urinates and then lies on her back when she sees a little person.  I never let her get close so everyone stays safe.

A scared dog is a dog that might bite.

Free always showed me how I needed to be.  She showed me what it was like to be free.  She really did live up to her name.  She was a sweet girl too.  Mostly Free was happy.  That’s what everyone who met her would say, “That is about the happiest dog I’ve ever met.”

Ruthie is different from Free.  She shows me who I am.  She shows me how I am.  She shows me how I feel.  Everyone says, “What a sweet dog.”  One woman who met us said, “She is your tender heart isn’t she?”  I realized she was right.

Ruthie has such a tender heart that if someone gets upset, especially me, well, so does she.  The first signs of her being upset are revealed in her gut, just like mine.  She was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome not long after I got her.

A couple of days ago Ruthie had blood literally pouring from her rectum.   I immediately called the vet.  After several tests the doctor said she believes Ruthie was responding to stress.   The vet said some dogs who get boarded there have this same reaction.  I was certainly glad to hear that Ruthie is okay, but it made me sad to know that my getting upset earlier that day had apparently caused this reaction in her gut.

I can’t protect her from life.  I try hard not to let her know when I’m upset, but she knows anyway.  She’s much better now.  I played with her, rubbed her silky coat, and basically showered her with hugs and kisses.   We are both better now.

Ruthie is a teacher, just like Free was.  She teaches me to calm down.  She shows me when I’m getting too upset and my love for her makes me want to feel better so that she will.  She shows me about forgiveness too.  She loves my son, no matter what.  She wants peace.  Most dogs do I guess.

Ruthie shows me what stress does to the body.  She shows me myself.

Free would show me how I could feel differently if I would only follow her advice, which was to go outside and play with her.  If I didn’t listen she would get a ball, usually a dirty one, and toss it in my lap.

Free would fight too, although the times were few and I was always there to stop her.  She would fight over tennis balls, sticks, toys and for sure, food.  I had to keep a close eye on Free.  She would slip off every chance she got and she got better at this with age.  She’d hide behind a tree while I worked in the garden, staring at me as if I couldn’t see her.  I’d play along with her, but if I went more than two minutes without looking she would be gone.

Down the winding paths she would go and in the mountains a dog’s route is faster than a human’s is.  Sometimes I’d have to get into my car to go fetch my dog.  She knew every house in the neighborhood that lived a dog.  She would go into their yards, especially during the day when the owners were away and the dogs were in the house and steal their toys.  If I caught her doing it she would have the toy in her mouth, her head would drop and she looked pitiful.

Free had a strong spirit.  If she had been human then she would have been an activist who gets put in jail from time to time.  She fought to protect what was hers, what she believed in and what she wanted.

Ruthie is not like that.  She is a tender heart.  She doesn’t fight and instead gives and walks away.   She has shown me once that if a person does something that seems intentionally harmful to her that she will protect herself.  Otherwise, Ruthie is sensitive, extremely loving, funny and has a cautiousness about her that I consider a smart trait, one worthy of my attention.  If she was a human she might be a nurse.

When we go to the dog park she gets a little scared, but she also loves it and runs the other way if I say let’s go.  She keeps her distance from the other dogs.  Ruthie likes to walk around the edges of the fence, which is a good distance from the center of the park where the dogs play together.  She’ll play if she finds the right dog but she’s choosy.  She likes dogs about her size or a little smaller.  She freaks out when a pack of dogs surround her, even though they are usually smothering her with kisses.  Even the dogs know Ruthie is the SWEETEST one in the park!

Free loved the dog park too, but she liked the tennis balls better than the other dogs.  She would gather as many balls as she could get, put them in one big pile and then plop down on top of her collection, daring the others with her growl to come any closer.  The other dogs fortunately did not challenge Free, probably because she could never get all the tennis balls.  She sure tried though.

Ruthie is my little drop of heaven.  I believe Free kissed her from heaven, which is why Ruthie’s snout is black.  She was kissed by an angel.

I’m so glad that child was allergic to my girl Ruthie, who is now, Ruthie Mae.

My dog can talk.  She just told me that she doesn’t care much for the time I spend on this computer.

Little creatures really do make good teachers.