Three pounds of wisdom

July’s half gone.
So here’s my song.
Of course, it’s hot.
In fact, a lot!
But we’ll stay cool.
Maybe, the pool?
And then I’ll nap.
Right on your lap.
I’ll snore a bit.
Then share my wit.
Let’s have some fun!
This summer’s soon done.


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?

Three Pounds of Zen

“Once we have learned to look with equal joy upon the movements of a butterfly as we do upon travel to distant lands, we can forgive the world for those things it has withheld for us.” —Kent Nerburn.

My dog Junie B. is a wee one, but very wise.

She finds her bliss in the early morning hours on our back porch listening as the cardinals call her name.

And watching while the butterflies dance their figure eights.

There was a time when this former 3 pound stray was full of wanderlust.

Though Junie B. found excitement, she soon learned that living life as a stray in dark alleys of the big city offered little.

These days my girl is content to just live in the moment. And this moment she has propped herself up on her soft quilted pillow, waiting for a daily belly rub.

That may be her favorite moment of them all.

And I do believe it could be mine as well.