Porch pup

Summer mornings are fun.
Even more so with sun.
No wonder this little one smiles.
Our porch is a lift.
Each new dawn a gift.
She lingers for quite a long while.

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Some still stop and smell the roses

My handsome man Rex and I were up extra early yesterday.

He seems to always know when another Sunday morning rolls around again.

He’s also knows that means a walk to the lake is definitely on the agenda.

Approaching the lake, Rex and I chose a dirt path alongside the shore then continued walking towards the rose garden just ahead.

He listened to the excited chirps of the gold finches. I admired the sailboats dancing lightly on the sparking blue waters.

And we both warmly welcomed the cool breeze on a sticky summer morning.

It was the perfect gift from the lake just behind us.

As we crossed over to the rose garden, Rex suddenly looked concerned as he watched a couple of walkers and joggers begin to lose their balance.

“It’s ok, Rex,” I told him, adding, “they’re just on their phones and not paying attention.”

I was saddened a bit that some of our two legged friends were missing the beauty all around them.

Maybe Rex was as well.

But suddenly, with his nose up in the air, my two legged friend excitedly led me over to one large flower bed to stop and smell those roses.

I couldn’t help but think some days our dogs really are a lot smarter than us.

Little Mr. Innocent

I think I startled Rex the renegade as I approached his favorite spot on the couch today.

It’s my tenacious terrier Tuck’s preferred spot as well.

“So I’m missing half of the ham sandwich that I just made for lunch,” I said to Rex.

He clearly was looking the guiltier of the two.

Next, I thought I saw Rex shake his head just as a small crust of bread tumbled to the ground from underneath his favorite blanket.

“Busted!” Tuck and I both growled in unison.

We both agreed that his face said it all.

My little lieutenant

Over the years we’ve both shared the loss of two immediate family members, two corgis, a senior chihuahua, one cairn terrier and a hospice cat.

My boy Tuck’s definitely not a kid, but his exact age is unknown.

Thirteen maybe?

Perhaps older.

Tuck was found 11 years ago as a stray traveling country lanes in Missouri,
not too far from a puppy mill.

The pads on his little feet were worn down from his life on the road.

“Probably dumped because he was no longer useful as a breeding dog,” my kindly vet had speculated back then, shaking his head

I’m seeing more gray hairs now framing Tuck’s face with eyes increasingly cloudy as he sits next to me this morning.

Just where he’s chosen to be.

After all, Tuck’s always been my loyal little lieutenant.

He’s also been my anchor in an often stormy sea the last decade.

They’ll likely be a sunset before too long when I’ll have to lift that anchor and finally set Tucker free.

But in the meantime, I’ll be celebrating this courageous and constant companion and the great comfort he’s always given me.

It seems this senior pup finally found his purpose.

How lucky am I?