Love Connection/Life Connection


My first connection with handsome man Rex last month was somthing akin to speed dating.

I’d entered a room ripe in potential for love connections immediately upon arrival at the shelter.

“Hey there handsome guy,” I announced while approaching Rex’s pen, sandwiched tight between some boisterous hound dog brothers.

Only Rex turned around, cocking his elfin head, and thrusting his little chest forward.

We made immediate eye contact, then he ran over to greet me extending a tiny paw through the fencing in the gate.

Labeled extremely shy when he’d first arrived, this handsome man had made a miraculous recovery.

I hailed a kindly volunteer over to escort Rex and I to a ‘meet and greet’ room where we soon were sharing savory snacks and sparkling water.

I told him I really wasn’t looking for a year old pup, “being an aging woman and all, but I just wanted to meet you”.

He looked disappointed.

“You see Rex, I’m not one of those cougar women you hear about.”

He then gazed back up at me, seeming to understand, yet still determined to charm.

And boy, did he ever.

Rex was soon showing off his talents with the commands he’d already learned such as “sit”, “stay”, and “no”.

Rex also proudly displayed finesse at walking on a leash, an important gift to this graying woman before him for trips into the city.

I slid down onto the tile floor, where Rex immediately climbed onto my lap.

I told him tales of my sweet senior corgi, Maddie and her spunky senior Yorkie brother.

“That Tucker’s still got plenty of attitude”.

Rex looked up at me with his tiny brown eyes, amused.

Maybe that look of amusement, those brown eyes, and that blithe spirit is what finally captured my heart.

And my soul.

Especially when Rex kept sweetly licking my hand as I shared stories of the two senior dogs I lost last year.

“I’m guess I’m trading in loss for life,” I told him.

I shared part of our story with the shelter where I adopted Rex.

It’s since appeared on their Facebook page.

One popular comment was posted there afterwards asking, “Who rescued who?”

I know for sure I didn’t rescue Rex.

Nor did Rex rescue me.

I just fell in love that day with a little young man.

And I’m hoping he’s fallen in love with little old me.

Ay caramba, Greta!

Grandma Greta was not happy at all when she realized I’d missed National Dog Day again.

At a minimum, she was expecting a new garage sale tutu.

But she was even more annoyed by the serenade she heard as I dialed each of the familiar phone numbers to the vet.

She knows them all by heart.

“So what’s up with that?” she barked in my direction.

“Well Greta, it’s time for your rabies shot.”

With that Greta leapt out of her dog bed, hitting the high road for the local Mexican grill down the road.

It’s her favorite hide out.

And miles way from the vet’s office.

I found her 30 minutes later, finishing up a siesta inside an empty burrito bag.

I could still smell the salsa.

But we’ve worked it out.

She’s agreed to go to her appointment.

And I’ve agreed to a full buffet dinner,

Complete with a mariachi band,

Where she’ll twirl in the brand new tutu I just bought her.

Ay caramba, Greta!

You’re one very smart cookie.

Never alone


I’d first noticed the flyers this morning before work.

“Lost Dog,” they announced.

Tonight, one was in my mailbox.

I read the words ‘shy’ and ‘timid’, bringing memories of several ‘flight risk’ females I’ve fostered.

And my own sweet corgi, Mariah.

Lost once herself in cornfields for days, after taking off one night in a thunderstorm.

“Even if just sighted, please call!” pleads the writer.

Love and concern, so real.

Maybe the Shiba Inu belongs to a young, red headed boy.

Or a graying grandma like myself.

Whoever it is, they clearly miss that dog.

Though its been a long day, I know the canine crew here would perk up if we did something for someone else.

One kindred spirit in need.

So off we go.

Besides, my clan has a nose for hunting down and making fast friends.