Some moments are etched indelibly on my memory. The day I looked at BrightSide and knew, way down in my bones, that I loved him. The morning I fell into T-man’s liquid brown eyes and discovered an entirely different kind of love. The evening I held Bear for the first time and realized I was equal parts enthralled and terrified by this tiny being.
And then there are times when your dog leaps out the car window like superman.
Oh, Gracie…our sweet, adorable, scampish, bullheaded, never-met-a-thing-she-didn’t-want-to-eat Gracie.
If you’re a long time reader, you know what’s coming. If you’re new to RFTM, welcome aboard the Gracie crazy train. We keep a running tally of her dietary hijinks around here. No embellishment necessary.
Our pretty, peculiar, puzzling, and perpetually attention seeking Phoebe…
If ever there were an example of a dog who doesn’t fit the mold, our Phoebe is it.
Okay, so who else has been totally bummed out by the last two days at RFTM? Trust me, my name’s at the top of that list. Thank you for sticking with me – for reading, for adding your thoughts, for the words of encouragement – it’s helped. Not made-it-all-magically-delicious helped, but helped nonetheless.
So can we please, for the love of all things holy, shift gears into something less doom and gloom? (“Sure! Why not!” says the quietly chirpy voice in my head.)
I’m grown, I’m responsible, I’m in charge of important stuff. And yet, it seems, the list of things I Just Can’t Handle continues to grow.
» Dusting my house top to bottom. Why do I hate this? Let me count the ways. The dust makes me sneeze. It returns mere hours after I’ve removed it. God did not give me the patience necessary to dust around knick knacks, picture frames, and books. It involves far too much reaching and bending. Plus no matter how throughly I think I’ve done it, there are always (always!) spots I’ve missed.
It’s not uncommon to hear cries of “GRACIE!!” echoing through the house at all hours of the day. Morning, noon, evening – it depends on when her scamp level is at its highest, and then you just have to pray any damage inflicted is relatively contained.
Let’s just say some days that works out better than others.
Some things are really cool. Handprints left in fluffy shag carpet. Grass that looks pokey but feels soft as a blanket. Couches that look hard but cushion like the fluffiest clouds.
But dog paws? Those are infinitely cool.
Their pads are scratchy but, when I rub them just the right way, they’re also remarkably soft. And when everybody’s all relaxed I can feel that really neat webbing between their pads.
Plus there’s something so deeply trusting when a dog lets you hold their paw. It’s like touching a pure spirit, one capable of more love than her body can hold.
My post as part of Colline’s Gratitude Project.