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Just a quick meditation and exercise insight in case I forget by tomorrow morning.  Was meditating when the peni got home from the park, dammit.  Sorry, not very open and accepting of my inner breath just there.  Was pleased to learn they were just home for water and were heading off to a different park.  (Welcome to our weekends, one run ’em till they drop activity after another, and it was Jim’s turn.)

Went back to meditating and then decided to take Bucky for a walk as I missed the Sunday yoga class.  Usually I put on a playlist called Can’t Shut Up (songs I like to sing) or Can’t Stop Dancing when I walk or exercise.  But I was in a meditative mood so put on my meditation/gothefucktosleep, kid playlist, mostly this song over and over.  Click on “Reverence” by Tinstad and Rumbel

http://www.allmusic.com/album/pastorale-mw0000097888

Had THE BEST WALK EVER!  Noticed so many things in my neighborhood, porch furniture, flowers, dogs in windows, uneven wooden gates, garden sprites, fairy wings and met new neighbors.  Including the old guy Arthur always yells Hello to when we drive home from school as he is out every evening slicing any and all spare blades of grass that might peek out of his brick sidewalk with a rusty slingblade (not really).  He looks kind of grumpy, but had a slightly falsetto  Hellloooooo  when I hailed him.  Would have stopped to talk but had an unmentionable in the plastic baggie headed for the dumpster around the corner.

I digress.  We walked so long, I actually considered doing this early in the mornings, before the snuggly kids sneak under my arms.  In other words, early.  Meditation and exercise and getting my day off in a better way than the usual frothy slug beating.   We’ll shall see.  Om

 

When my old roommates from Arizona learned that I had a dog on our reunion trip to Key West, they were aghast. And I was aghast that they were aghast. When I lived with my Minnesota snow birds in the late 80’s, they each had a dog – freaked out German Shepherd and annoying cocker spaniel. I kept the door to my bedroom closed, because I couldn’t imagine sleeping with all that dog hair around. They would wander in occasionally and sniff around, wag and slip out.

A decade or so later, I have 3 dogs, 2 cats, spend half of my volunteer time in dog activities, travel across the country with my service dog in training, fantasize about search and rescue ‘career’ and can’t pass a canine without making an adoring comment.  So, they were all aghast at my transformation, and I had completely forgotten that I had ever lived sans puppy breath.

Toby on left eating, Bucky at bottom waiting for tidbits, Rio up top waiting to bat food to Simi

Toby on left eating, Bucky at bottom waiting for tidbits, Rio up top waiting to bat food to Simi

Smiling Simi waiting for food!

Smiling Simi waiting for food!

A decade or so later, down to 1 dog, 1 cat …. and 2 kids. The constant animal hair pick up takes on new meaning when you’re cleaning for 6 and you’re slowly getting a new house, one excruciating renovation phase at a time. It’s mid-morning again, Jim took one cupcake to the grocery store and I am taking a break between steps 3 and 4 of what it takes to clean our fabulous wood floors (crap pick up, vacume, steam, swiffer the baseboards).

2011 - Bucky adjusts to small creatures with STICK!

2011 – Bucky adjusts to small creatures with STICK!

As I sit here typing,  I look over at Bucky, asleep on the pile of freshly cleaned laundry, I love him to pieces and love how Clifton just sits on him and tugs on his collar; he’s a member of our family.  And kids should have dogs.  But he’s 8 years old, and when he joins Simi and Toby in the eternal Crane Creek, an animal hair break might be in consideration.

For now, it’s back to step 4 or I might just let Arthur cream me in a Wii swordplay game again!

I found these videos on my ipod during my Mother’s Day retreat at Crane Creek.  I forgot I was documenting Toby’s last months with us, so they’re a little bittersweet.  Not for the average reader (all 3 of you!).  For me.

The first one is October, 2010, about a minute and a half – good face smooshies and Rio is under the bed attacking Bucky’s foot while he stalks Toby during the endlessly annoying meal routine.

The second is December, 2010, about 4 minutes – the day Toby had a bad seizure and kept walking into things.  The strange thing to me is how quiet the house was then.  We came home with the boys about a month later and Toby passed away about a month or so after that.

Anyway, she was a good old girl.  Love you tobytobytobytobytobytoby.

Toby October 2010

Toby December 2010

Meet Bucky.

Named by his trigger-happy previous owner Buckshot; I pretend his name is short for Buckster, Buckbeak (Harry Potter fans?) or when the tennis shoes come out, Buckwild.

He would prefer to spend his days inside my mouth, but will settle for having his head permanently behind my kneecap, panting my calves into an early sweat.  He also loves to steal the Orbit gum from my purse. Quick and quiet, I often don’t even know until I turn around to kiss his big black nose and find the crime scene pictured here.

Although I have two kids now, Bucky is still the biggest baby in the family and will most likely be talked about here regularly.  Lovingly.  Laboradoringly.

My office got moved out of kid territory, which means out of dog hair territory too.  So, he’s not under my feet or wrestling with Rio the kitty as I write this.  Does anyone watch TV just to spend time with their dog?

Before I melt into slack-jawed, hazy-glazed, fetal position with dog on top, here’s a little mistake Bucky made on St. Joseph’s Day last year.  We had Indiana guests, and my purse was left in the pile of Abitas, paper towels, plastic trays and newspapers for the afternoon shrimp feast.  Bucky the intrepid reporter was tip-toeing around with my small green notebook in his mouth.  Most likely working on the afternoon scoop.