We just added a new member to our family, Honey Bear. No, we didn't name her that, but I believe she knows her name, so we may be stuck with it. We've only had her a few hours and we've already fallen in love. She's a friendly, lovable golden retriever who gets along well with our other dogs and loves riding with the top down in our convertible.
Three-year-old Honey Bear was given up by her family when a new baby entered the home and they couldn't take care of her. As my daughter and I walked through the shelter, we spotted walls and walls of other dogs in tiny jail cells. These unwanted dogs weren't lucky enough to have a new home to go to. Some barked while others slept, but they all looked like they wanted out. When the employee let Honey Bear out of her cell, she went nuts. She darted laps around the outdoor area while wagging her feathered tail.
I wish we could have taken the whole lot of them. It breaks my heart to see so many dogs that no one wants, but this is not the only prison for the homeless. In our search for Honey Bear, we visited the Memphis Humane Society. Many of those dogs are free to anyone who will have them due to an angel grant.
Three years ago we adopted Millie, a terrier mix, who has been so grateful to have a home. These rescue dogs are even sweeter than other dogs because somehow they know what their new owners have done for them. So why not? Go out to your nearest pound and bring home a friend. A furry friend is waiting for you.
After eating a disgusting glob of fat, calories, and carbs on Mother's Day, I need to get back to running. I'm a long time seasonal runner who takes up the sport when it's convenient or a group opportunity arrives. This usually happens in the summer and fall. This summer, I will once again start the Road Race Series. The event, that is filled with super jocks, begins in mid July with races every two weeks that get longer as we go.
"Fall" Running Photo
If all goes well and I've made it to every race, I'll drop out after the 10K. In order to get a cool prize, I must complete six races, and that is good enough for me. Unfortunately, life usually keeps me from completing my six races before they get too lengthy. Last year, I missed a race and had to run 10 "fun" miles. But fortunately, I only had to do that once. The rest of the athletes will do this twice and run the most boring half marathon course known to human kind. I did it once and swore I'd never run it again. It's a straight route up a barren highway and back. Maybe some road kill could help the interest level along the course, but unfortunately, it's against Tennessee law to take road kill home and eat it unless you actually kill the vermin. Daggumit! How else could we get cheap meat?
Come fall, I'll further my running adventures by joining the women's running series. I'll meet with the intermediate group once a week, and we'll run a few miles every Monday night. So being May, I guess it's time to dust off the running shoes and prepare to lag behind the rabbits (runners not road kill).
Speaking of animals, have you seen the movie, Jumanji? When running, I often think of the panting hippo at the back of the stampede. Yep! That would be moi; but, I figure running behind the pack beats snoozing on the sofa. Although someone once told me it is better to be like an elephant than a fly. The elephant moves slowly and lives a long time, while the hyper fly zips around the window and is dead by morning. Personally, I wouldn't want to be either . . . nor do I want to be the hippo from Jumanji, but that's life in the runner's world.
Erica in First Grade (left) & her Best Friend Leah
When my littlest one was in the first grade, she was most honored to be chosen by her teacher to take Oliver the Parakeet home for Spring Vacation. So, we gathered up the little bird, cage and all, and carried him to the most frightening experience of his short life.
Once we arrived at home, we set his cage on a kitchen counter where he happily chirped while perched on his wooden rod. My son, finding Oliver interesting, opened the cage to pet his furry head while I was engrossed in a phone conversation. Seeing a chance at freedom, Oliver flew out of his prison and lapped the kitchen.
As the loose bird soared, my children tried to cup him in their hands, but no, children's paws are not good for capturing birds. To trap a bird, it takes a professional; it takes a golden retriever. That's right. Snap! Our dog Swaz thought he was helping by catching little Oliver in his toothy jaws.
I dropped the phone, let out a panic scream, and ascended on the bird-catching furball to pry his thick jaws open. Oliver fell out of the Swaz's dark mouth and landed on the floor. I picked up the slobber-soaked bird and placed his shaking body back in the cage.
Oliver didn't sing anymore. Not his high-pitched flute sounds nor deep-pitched oboe; not country, rock, or rap. He just hugged the wall of the kitchen and shook like a schizo. Every time our dog sniffed or even passed the cage, he squeezed even closer to his corner, shook harder, and his beady bird eyes grew as large as ping pong balls. Okay, they stayed small and beady, but he was scared.
Finally the day came for Erica to bring Oliver back to school and share her journal about Oliver's week. The shocking truth proved a bit of an embarrassment, especially when Oliver mysteriously kicked the bucket over the summer. I think it was heart failure from plaguing nightmares of sharp teeth. RIP, Oliver.
Being that I have multiple dogs sniffing all over my site, I had to take advantage of the D day. Let me introduce you to the crew.
Alpha Dog is The Swaz. He's an old, white-faced retriever who likes to spread his enormous body across the entry ways of dark rooms. I've almost ended my life by tripping over him quite a few times. Swaz has never been what one would call an active dog. When I throw the ball, he knows I'm not going anywhere, so what's the rush to get it back? He'll simply stroll to the ball, place it in his enormous jaws, and eventually I may see it again. He's a love but at 12½, I worry about him.
Millie & Erica
Millie the Rescue Dog: She's a Terrier Mix who probably hasn't seen a pedigree in the family for many years. Her tongue is too big for the mouth, so it sticks out but dries quickly. She hops into bed between my husband and me every night and makes odd groaning noises. My kids enjoy her squeaky toy gadget. Touch her belly and she grunts.
Ruby the goofy grand dog: No longer my problem! I say that because the son took her back to Charleston after she chewed up every pair of my daughter's underwear. When we go to see her, she lets us know she still loves us by peeing on the floor or taking a flying leap to give us a sloppy kiss. She's a Dino dog (Flintstones) for sure.
I do not know the cute puppies on my site; however, if Erica has her way, we just might. Catch my words tomorrow when I explore the Empty Nest with Letter E.