Richo

I used to think that I was a dog person. I grew up with dogs not cats. I was in high school when I found out that I was allergic to cats. That gives you an idea of how often I was in the feline world. I was babysitting for a family in our neighborhood and an asthma attack.  I called my mom and she came and took over the babysitting while I recuperated at home never to babysit for those neighbors again. Then I met my husband who grew up with cats. His family had cats and I got my introduction into the feline world. Last spring, a neighborhood cat followed me home just like a puppy dog. He set up residence and has never looked back. A tuxedo with a John Wayne attitude, Richo is a lot like a dog as he behaves and misbehaves throughout the day. He comes when called, sits and begs for a treat and he stares at the refrigerator whenever it is opened holding up his paw. Thankfully, he is in touch with his feline self so I am learning more about the world of cats. So, I guess I am not really a dog or cat person but a person who loves whatever animal I am privileged  to be in the company of. 

Metaphor

ok back to the metaphor thing. I heard recently that gardening is a metaphor for life.  As I spent the week-end with Riggs I could not help but think that spending time with a lab puppy is a metaphor for life, too. As we went walking, we came across a series of puddles. Riggs noticed before I did. She started walking in the water and was so pleased with how the water splashed up all around her that she walked with more vim and vigor to create even more enthusiastic splashes. Then the dance began. She danced and danced in the puddle. Sure she would have loved it if it had been deeper. However, she "loved it the way it was". Acceptance.  And she danced and danced and danced. Then she went on the retrieve pecans only to have them taken away. I didn't know what they were. Just found out they are pecans. Thanks Riggs. I didn't know that beautiful tree out my den window is a pecan tree. Gift. When you get older, I'll let you eat a pecan (if  it's ok with your parents). For now, I'll gaze at the beautiful tree and know it is a home for pecans. I miss you.

Grand

Today I am much too busy to become sixty. I am becoming a "grand".   Dog, that is. Our "grand puppy" Riggs is spending the day with us. She got up right on time. One minute early in fact. I was ready. I must admit it was because she is on a schedule. I am a firm believer in the schedule idea with a puppy now. First things first. We went on our walk. As my son Daniel says, "Mom, you have to walk her the minute you take her out of her crate."  "Right Callie?" Note: I am a believer in the crating idea now, too. I did. Callie is my daughter-by-Danny. Danny is my son.

As we begin our walk, Riggs is very RELIEVED. Holding it all night is not easy for a puppy.  As we started our walk, we met a neighbor with her adult yellow lab. Riggs looked at the lab and for a fleeeting moment was scared. As the fleeting moment passed, she was couriggsous. They played leash bound (as we live in  town) and Riggs really wanted to unleash and go to play mode. Being a grand dog is like the saying for gardening:  It's a metaphor for life... I could write on abut the metaphor thing except it is play time. I must share...Or rather, I want to share...

becoming

I am now officially becoming 60.