Why dogs are easier than children ...

... dogs don't have bank debit cards, unlike college-age children. Dogs don't make purchases from unsecured online sites. And dogs don't get calls from the fraud department of their bank saying the account has been compromised and there are attempted charges. From France.

Enough said ...

A dog's sense of smell

Yesterday was spent at the University of Oklahoma for the "Christmas at OU" choir and orchestra concert (my son is in one of the choirs). We didn't actually spend much time with him, but enough to get a couple of hugs along the way.

Saying goodbye & promising to return

That was all it took to make Blue stick to me like glue when we got back home. You see, the son is Blue's boy. Blue arrived on the scene just before a life-changing event in the fall of 2004. He has been my son's rock and guardian angel. While it was difficult when he left for college, the hardest part - by far - was the heart-wrenching scene when he said goodbye to Blue.

Blue smelled his boy. I was thoroughly sniffed and snuffled. He kept looking around, as if he thought his boy would be the next in the door. And when the boy didn't appear, Blue decided to stay close and make the most of it he could. Bless his heart, he will be so much happier when the semester is done - at least for a little while.

Blue, with his paw fur looking like "Max" from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

Evening meditations

Our work and life schedule means the animals in my household are left alone each day. I don't like it and wish it was different but, for now, it is our reality. Another reality is, as a single mom to 1-1/2 college students and as some who works in public education in a state that pays teachers very poorly (a ranking of 49th in the country), I work more than one job. Several afternoons each week, I race in from school, change clothes and race out again to drive the 26 miles to my evening job.

So I make a special effort when I come home to make sure the dogs feel loved. It's always late (anywhere from 10:30 p.m. to midnight). Marley sleeps in my daughter's room, so I know he is stretched out across her legs, effectively holding her captive all night. Blue greets me at the back door, does his special dance for attention and a fresh bowl of water and is generally his happy self (he probably hopes he can convince me he needs another meal; that boy always acts as though he will never eat again!). And that leaves Miss Carson, my whirling dervish.

I can hear Carson as soon as I walk in the kitchen from the garage. She starts spinning in her crate, located next to my bed. Even though I know she's had her big bowl of water and been out for her last trip of the night, I may let Blue and her out again while I change clothes. It usually depends on how late it is, how tired I am, and if I work in the morning.

When they come in, I tuck Blue in for the night. His favored spot is on his huge LL Bean bed next to the front window in the dining room. From there he can survey our cul de sac, keeping a sharp eye out for neighborhood cats and periodic wildlife, including opossums and skunks. I really need to reinforce that window ... Or he may head to his crate for a while; it's located in my son's room. Blue is funny though, he often won't sleep in the bedroom when his boy is away at school. When he first left for college a year ago, Blue didn't darken the door to the room until after the Thanksgiving Break.

I pop Carson into her crate while I clean up and get ready for bed. She sits with her head cocked in that typical terrier fashion, watching every move I make. Or she crosses her front paws and waits patiently for me to finish.

Carson's very ladylike crossed front legs:

And then we snuggle. When I was married, dogs were rarely allowed on the bed, at least after the human children came along. Or on the sofa, or, or ... So we snuggle a lot at our house. I can hardly get in the bed because Carson is always so excited. I slide in and she gets as close as she can - she's a licking machine, we have to work on that - and she flops over to ensure her belly and legs get a full rubdown. Minutes tick by but she never tires of the attention. As I slowly wind down, her massage slows as well, which means she will readjust or lick my hand to remind me she's there. Sometimes, after 30 minutes or so, she can be enticed to go to sleep, which she does with a huge sigh. Other times she wants to play and that means she must sleep in her crate next to my bed. When she's there, I swear she has a third eye that is awake all night; if I so much as turn over she knows it!

Some nights I really just want to go to sleep, but I realize this is a gift Carson gives me when I take the time to accept it. My breathing slows, my thoughts still, I focus completely on this little 20 pound black and tan bundle of boundless energy. And I just am ...

Nothing like a dog fight

to get the adrenaline racing on a Saturday morning. No one was injured, but it was a fascinating look at pack dynamics.

I'll write more about it later but suffice it to say it was a reminder to listen to those little voices constantly chattering in my head!

Now off to get some holiday shopping done before heading to work tonight - now THAT will be a true dog fight.

-pj

Never eat alone

I spent more time than I should out of the present, replaying the past or fretting about the future.

Next year, both human children will be at college. The dogs and I will be on our own, for the first time since we arrived here in 2005. Big Boy Blue is the only other remaining family member from the time before, so it will definitely be a change. But, as evidenced by this photo from a recent Saturday morning waffle breakfast, I need never worry about eating alone!

On the outside ...

Have you ever felt disconnected, present as part of a group or activity, but not really of the group? I feel like it happens to me a lot; it's as though different languages are being spoken - I am in the room, talking and listening, but not really communicating.

Thanksgiving evening, it occurred to me that nonhuman animals must often feel the same way. We speak, gesture, move in many contexts and so do our animals. But are we fully communicating? I think the answer - most often - is "no."

Just think how our animals must feel so very often - speaking and gesturing but not being completely understood. Haven't we all felt that way, at least once or twice?

This was a revelation for me and, honestly, it gives me a whole new perspective when communicating. Far too often I am in a crowd yet feel alone and not understood (no pity party, just fact). Our companion animals must feel the same way so often. In my opinion, the breakdown is on the human side of the equation much of the time.

What should we do - with one another and with all creatures?

I believe the key is - yet again - in slowing the pace. Sometimes our agenda has to be shelved in favor of watching, of listening, of being present.

We must
Paws (pause)  ... and Listen
                      ... and Watch
                      ... and Consider
                      ... and Learn

Hollis Haven's Brodrick (Brody) was my teacher for nine years. He left on August 13, 2010, far too soon. But I carry his lessons in my heart every day. I know that I didn't slow down enough to truly hear him, and for that I will always be sorry.

Giving Thanks

The months since a blog entry has been posted have been exciting, stressful, insightful and confusing. One lesson that keeps presenting itself, however, is the need to slow down and be present. As I wrote earlier in the year, Carson pleaded for me to slow down. Shortly after, I began another graduate program. But I have found my heart remains somewhere else - in writing and in my TTouch work.

I find myself at a crossroads, trying to learn - to understand - how to meet my goals AND provide consistent and sufficient income for myself, my children, my animals; to take care of all (including myself!) physically, mentally and emotionally and be healthy; and to do all at at a slower pace. To be present, much as Blue, Carson and Marley - my teachers - fully present in each  moment of their lives.

So as I continue to learn, I want to acknowledge the time of year and give thanks to my teachers. I am thankful for their ageless wisdom, their joy, their focus and their unwavering love.

Meet my teachers and role models: Marley and Blue on Thanksgiving Day. Our boys are keeping it real and focused in the kitchen. And Carson, our joy-filled and exuberant girl, who always reminds us to smile and laugh.