Paw prints on the heart

There's that face....


I can’t believe it took me so long to love my dog.

When I fell hard for Sarah Jane back in 2006, I had no clue that she would turn into such a challenge. I’ve written about her various health problems (kennel cough, mange, an expensive worm, and now seizures) but there was more.

Sure, she pulled me through a doorway and I fell and broke my right pinkie finger. And she got excited sitting next to hubby one night and her head popped up and knocked out one of his teeth. Still, I was feeling much different about this dog than any we’ve had.

Hubby and I have never owned a Labrador. We’re older now, and Sarah is probably the last dog that’ll own us so we should have been more careful. It never occurred to me, however, to investigate the breed of a dog before we adopted it.

The reason I fell so hard for this pooch is because she seemed so resigned to her fate in the steel cage at the shelter. She was reluctant at first to come up to us, and she was so much more reluctant to return to her ratty blanket and ripped stuffed frog when we had to leave. Her eyes haunted me every minute until we picked her up and took her home less than a week later.

Fast forward over three years and we still question our sanity that warm spring morning in May of 2006. Although hubby is retired, he keeps plenty busy with house, lawn and garden repairs and maintenance. I’m busier than I want to be with my job and starting a new online publishing business in addition to pretty much all of the housework I’ve always done. Throw in an overactive Labrador on meds and you have a prescription for lunacy.

We used to ask how long this would last—the seemingly never-ending bid for attention and affection, the eating of all things nasty and forbidden and downright stupid (rocks? Sheesh!) Lab owners would tell us that Sarah would settle down at a year old, and others said it would be more like two, three or even five years. I just heard today that one woman’s dog is giving her fits after 12 years. Oh, my goodness.

I realized after about a year into having Sarah around that I still was not connecting with her with my heart. Sure, she’s cute and she makes me laugh but more often than not, at least then, she was making me say swear words I don’t normally use. She seemed oblivious that I had turned into a ranting she-wolf; all she wanted was for me to take her outside every half hour or so simply so she could sit at the end of her leash next to her master’s leg and stare into space.

Now, though, those trips are fewer though no less untimely. She usually requests my full attention once I’ve finished work for the day and I’m ready for some rest. I’ll plop down on the sofa, settle in and start to relax when Sarah uses her cold wet nose to nuzzle my hand. Then she’ll put her chin on the arm rest and stare up at me until I look down and that’s when it’s all over. She has the attention she wanted, and now it’s time to get up and take her outside so she can sniff the air, gaze at the park across the street and rest up against her master’s leg.

I can’t pinpoint when it happened, but one day as I was petting Sarah, I found myself saying these words: “I love you, Sarah Jane, you sweet thing.” I do remember that she leaned back into my hand, and closed her eyes.

It was like she knew she had finally claimed my heart.

The fine art of shunning is alive and well

It's lonely walking the road alone, but sometimes we have no other choice.

The weather matches my mood today.

As the rain continues to fall, so do my hopes of finding out what makes some folks tick. I think an explanation is in order.

Families can be strange and wonderful. Some can be cruel and unfeeling, and some are so full of unconditional love that everyone feels welcome and no one wants to leave.

In April of 2002, I fell out of favor with a member of the family and seven years later, the grudge against me remains. Some in-laws, cousins and others have taken sides while some choose to sit on the fence.

Invitations to birthday parties and other celebrations eventually dried up, and at first that bothered me but really, it’s easier to stay away from such celebrations when some spend most of the time glaring at or avoiding one another. What fun is that?

To this day, no one will tell me what it is I’ve done to cause the strained relationship. It may be that I did do or say something, or maybe it’s something I didn’t do that I should have but no one will give me a chance to either defend myself or apologize, or here’s a thought: maybe I would be able to honestly deny the accusation. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not guilty at all. Only God knows, I guess.

As if being the black sheep of the family for the last seven years isn’t bad enough, I can now add two former friends to the list of those who have chosen to shun me.

I found out about the one guy when I walked into a favorite fast-food place a couple of weeks ago. I saw him with a group of his friends, laughing and joking and drinking coffee. I must have tried a dozen times to get his attention from a mere six feet away but he nearly swiveled his head off of his shoulders to avoid looking at me.

What had I done? What hadn’t I done? I tried chalking it up to my wild imagination, and I (almost) let it go. A couple of days later I stopped in again and the same thing happened. Now I was really angry. This former friend had ruined a favorite spot of mine simply by shunning me.

Yesterday I popped into a local grocery store and while I was waiting in the checkout line, a long-time and much-loved family friend walked by. She was within a few feet of me, on her way to another checkout when I suddenly realized that she was pointedly ignoring me. It felt like a punch in the stomach.

What I find most disturbing about all of these scenarios is one simple thing: Every single person referenced above—the family member, the two friends, and me—all profess to be Christians. Most of us attend church, and we’ve been involved in Bible studies over the years too numerous to count. We’ve prayed for one another, cried with one another and now we shun one another.

As most of us who live in town know, there are physical barriers to get to some of our favorite places to shop and eat. I would gladly maneuver around and through those just to get to where I want to go. It’s the emotional barriers I no longer want to deal with.

Not everybody has to love me. Not everybody has to like me. But I want to know what it is I’ve done to cause some folks to turn away the smiles that used to light up our eyes at the mere sight of one another.

I’m not at all sure that the folks I want to see this post will actually see it, or if they’ll recognize themselves. But if you are one of those who have suddenly taken a dislike to me, would you mind letting me know why? Life is awfully short, and throughout our brief time on Earth, it would be nice to know that we can count on one another, no matter what.

Shunning is cruel, and it hurts something fierce. Please think about that before you put someone through that experience. On second thought, just don’t do it.

Little pieces of Heaven

I remember where I was the day I knew I wanted to be a writer.

A friend and co-worker had loaned me a paperback novel by Stephen King. If you’re at all familiar with King, then you know about Cujo, the story of a Saint Bernard whose descent into doggy madness after contracting rabies made for one heck of a horror tale.

This book had it all: A troubled marriage, a little boy trying to make his parents love one another again, another troubled marriage, a boy and his dog, a broken down car and mind-numbing desperation. I was enthralled.

And when I turned the last page of that novel, I said to myself, “I can do this. I can write like this.”

That was back in 1984, and I’ve been writing ever since.

I thought the joy would be in publication, and it is. And I thought that having folks come up and tell you how much your words meant to them would bring happiness, and it does. But the deepest love I feel for writing is the journey itself.

Tomorrow, September 21st, is Stephen King’s birthday. My birthday is two days later, but I love birthdays (and as hubby says, especially my own) so I begin the celebration a week ahead of time.

Maybe we should have gone to Borders yesterday when it was sunny and in the 70s. Instead, we drove off into a virtual downpour and we made it just fine. There were lots of people out and about, getting wet and not seeming to mind it.

Hubby dropped me off and I walked into one of my favorite places on earth. Writing magazines in hand, I made my way to the coffee café, ordered a chocolate coffee, found a table and settled in. “This is what Heaven must feel like,” I thought, as I sipped the perfect hot drink for such a day.

The voices of children, moms, dads, grandparents and more rose and fell around me. Friends chatted in hushed tones, people with laptops surfed the Internet and some were writing. The readers were there, too, deeply engrossed in the written word and watching them gave me hope that my words could have that effect someday. Someday, that might be my book they’re reading while they shut out the world and become engrossed in the story I created from my imagination.

The trip to and from the bookstore was almost as enjoyable as the time I spent reading and writing today. Going places with my husband is always an adventure. Even after almost 37 years of marriage we find things to talk and laugh about, and we grow closer every minute we’re together—yet another example of what Heaven must be like, a place where we spend our time with those we love the most.

Once home, the dog greeted us as if we’d been gone for four years instead of four hours. To see the love in those eager brown eyes makes my heart melt every time, and it makes me wish that we, as humans, could be as loving and forgiving as these four-legged furry friends. Heaven has to have dogs—after all, Sarah Jane and those who came before her have given us a glimpse of what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. Everyone should have the chance to feel love like that.

The sun is out now, and the raindrops are glistening on the trees. The dog would rather stick nearby than be outside alone, and hubby is taking a well-deserved nap. The week ahead is a busy one, but for right now, this minute, I wanted to take the time to reflect on a day that brought a little bit of Heaven to earth—even if just for a few hours.

Cell phone furniture and other necessities

Cookie Monster watches over my cell phone as it rests in its own bean-bag chair.


I love gadgets and gizmos. I have my share of things I thought we couldn’t live without; some I’ve given away, some I’ve sold and others sit unused and nearly new inside dark cupboards and closets.

Sis and I were raised by a single mom who cooked and tended bar for a living, so we never had much. Food, shelter and hand-me-down clothing—those were the essentials, and mom saw to it that we had most of what we needed.

When I got married, I thought I hit the jackpot. Gone were the days of counting and accounting for every penny. Hubby never ever asked me to explain purchases and it felt both wonderful and weird. Eventually, though, I got used to buying what we needed and many things I wanted without having to jump through hoops.

Years passed and mistakes were repeatedly made, and before long I could see that maybe I wasn’t the best in the household finances department. Lessons were learned the hard way and my mistakes caused others to suffer, so I did a 180. Once in a while, though, I slip off the rails and make little boo-boos. Hence the photo at the top.

Apparently I’m still influenced by those around me. I saw a Staples button that, when pressed says, “That was easy!” It cost $5 and part of the proceeds went to a charity I believe in, so I justified the purchase to hubby by using that reasoning. Well, I tried to convince him but he just shook his head. That stupid button is around here somewhere, no doubt covered in dust.

Thing is, I love the expensive gadgets as much as the cheap ones. Computers are at the top of my list, and so is anything that has a computer chip in it. I have a so-so cell phone, but that’s OK. Someday I hope to get a BlackBerry or an iPhone (ha!), but until then I have a PDA (personal digital assistant) full of information I carry with me at all times. Hubby argues that a small notebook would serve the same purpose and cost about $97 less than the PDA did.

Also on board in my purse are the following: A digital voice recorder, a digital camera, extra batteries, cords for the camera and PDA, plus, of course, notebooks and pens.

I thought I was doing pretty well with reining in my spending until I saw someone at work with an itty-bitty bean-bag chair that was designed to hold his cell phone. It was adorable. And I had to have one.

Instead of showing off my $3 purchase, I took the sack from Staples to work with me, placed it on my desk and rested my phone on it. That ritual lasted about a week before I began to forget the newly-purchased phone furniture. The chair sat there for a few months, the phone traveled and stayed inside my purse, until one day when I grabbed the chair and took it home.

One of the many things I love about my husband is his comic reaction to some of things I do. This was going to be fun. I put the phone chair on top of the chest of drawers, placed my cell phone on it and invited hubby over to check it out.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s a chair for my phone,” I replied.

He slapped his forehead. “Unbelievable,” he said, as he walked away muttering to himself.

At least it was only $3. I’ve come a long, long way but I can always do better. We’re never too old to learn, right?