I’m a lucky dog… I get to go places!
Sometimes they have to leave me behind in the car because NO DOGS ALLOWED. I don’t feel very lucky, then.
I wait patiently tho and don’t do anything to ruin the upholstery…
Here I am at St. Marks at Thanksgiving… we’ve gone there a lot.
They took me to the mountains at Christmastime, but made me wear this silly-looking coat that someone had bought for me. Imagine people buying gifts for an abandoned old shelter-dog like me!
This day they took me to a weedy field so that Laura could photograph dried-up old wildflowers with her new camera.
I was happy there because the path smelled like horses.
We spend a lot of time going places and then waiting around and looking at birds… here I am at my first Christmas Bird Count.
I am a good bird dog. I am very quiet and patient and never bark or whine or pull on the leash while we wait for birds to show up.
Sometimes we wander around the city and look at street art. I was not overly impressed with this particular installation along the Beltline.
I like the beach… that’s a good thing because we go there the most.
It smells nice.
I am posing on Siesta Key in Florida. Some people think it’s the prettiest beach anywhere.
The sand is very white.
Once they took me to Dahlonega and tried to get me to pose next to this tough-looking dog.
I was embarrassed for myself, feeling like I couldn’t possibly ever measure up to this level of toughness.
They dragged me along with a bunch of teenagers one day to look at the lichens growing on rock…
They even dragged me out to the ends of the earth near Fort Pulaski to see a lighthouse, of all things!
I’m a good travellin’ dog… but I like having a place to call home the best.
I think the ribbons on her ears are a nice touch.
Sadie’s embarrassed by them.
I like them and think she looks adorable.
Jay, the good sport who walks her in the park, thinks they’re ridiculous.
He was ready with a story should anyone ask:
“They’re antennas; she’s actually a robot.”
I like that, too.
|How to lose a new dog in less than 4 days|
Maybe she was bored. Or wanted to get to know the new neighborhood.
Maybe, disoriented, she was trying to find her way back to the shelter and a life she knew.
Most probably she was just terrified.
Whatever the reason, last Thursday she bolted out the front door, took a left at the end of the driveway and disappeared for good into a steamy August morning.
We searched on foot, on bikes, in the car. Despondent, I called out to her in unfamiliar places, my voice still unknown to her, using a name she hadn’t yet learned.
It was hopeless.
We put up signs. We waited. I walked the neighborhood for the tenth time. Shelter volunteers that had grown to love her in her time with them came out to help us look for her. Nothing.
Until the phone rang that evening and someone had rescued her, yet again. It was incomprehensible to me that she’d been found; I thought I would never see her again.
How she spent that day, we’ll never know… how she navigated two very, very busy roads without being hit to end up 3 miles away… how a Good Samaritan convinced her to stop in her running long enough to be caught…
I am so thankful for this happy ending and for this dog I barely know and already can’t help but love…
We sat in the parking lot of the shelter and very nearly went home without her, for a second time. Then we twisted each other’s arm and, just like that, it was done.
A new dog!
Some very basic and important part of me is made happier by having a dog. I’d been trying to deny that the past couple years since splitting with the ex-DH, but all the practicalities in the world couldn’t change that part of myself.
So… meet Sadie!
She’s 10 years old and a mix of perfectly polite and adorably unsure of herself. She’s cowering under the desk as I write this during a thunderstorm. Her first inclination when feeling anxious is to climb on top of something. She wanders around, following behind us like a houseguest that’s run out of tourist attractions to visit. She’s scared of cars and utterly oblivious to the cat who’s in a state of permanent hiss.
Nobody slept the first night. Last night we slept shifts on the floor beside her. For tonight I’m stil hopeful. Little by little her head and tail are coming up and she’s making tentative eye contact.
Who knows what her life before was.
Her eyes are sad, sad, sad.
We mean to change that.