12 Years a Companion

Twelve years is a long time. Many things can happen; three moves,a divorce,a re-marriage, two bonus girls, and a grandchild. So much life in those 12 years. So much joy, pain, and celebrations.

Every year, I think, this could be it.

Her last one.

The one in which I say good-bye to my old friend. The one in which I am ready. Am I ready? I think so. I don’t want to see her hurt and in pain. Each year her hips get a little more stiff. Her breathing a little more labored. And her naps a little more deep and long.

I tell myself when she is not interested in eating anymore, then I will know it is time.

But that hasn’t happened.

I am not sure it will happen. This girl lives by her stomach.

And so we celebrate #12! We give her pats and frosted dog cookies. We sing happy birthday.

We celebrate our most faithful companion.

© 2014 Angelia's Photography

And watch for signs…that those old bones won’t go another day.

© 2014 Angelia's Photography

Of course, your friends are here. To keep your spirits high.

And your newest friend, in which, there are many mixed feelings about.

Probably because, she steals the show. And she is quite a pest (Mya the Terrible).

At least it is not your tail she declared World War III on (yet).

Old Dog

Why do you stay so near?
Go lie in the sun and drowse.
You needn’t follow my every step,
And jump up when I appear.
Your joints are stiff;
You’ve earned a rest;
Lived your life well;
Passed every test.
And now you’re very dear.

Old dog.
Why do you stay so near?
You lie close to my side
Each time I pause,
Head in my lap, alert to hear
Every nuance of my voice. You long ago made your choice
And never once looked to the rear.

Old dog.
Why do you stay so near?
What is it that you hear?
A far-off call, coming closer,
That I, too, know is there?
With each day our time together
Draws nearer to its end.
Please stay a while, old friend

by David the Dogman

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Happy Birthday, Salem Dixie! Twelve years is a lot of duty, a lot of love, and a lot of heart.

Cheers to my best in show, my sweet companion, and my first doggy love.

Freddy Goes For a Ride

Have you met Fred?

He started out as my mom’s dog – my favorite of mom’s twenty dogs. My Oklahoma visits to see them made my trips. Then, mom went into assisted living and could only bring one dog. She picked her favorite little chihuahua and the rest of the dogs went to new homes. Luckily, Fred came to mine. Probably, because I BEGGED my husband with every fiber of my being. It being a super hard sell as we already had a THREE dog rule and only added a third because I convinced him dog number three is a Cat (and since dog three doesn’t bark, it wasn’t a complete fib). But Fred, oh dear little Freddy, he makes four. Four throws off our favorite number – three. And three is such a special number to us for many, many reasons – three tens (our wedding day), three girls (our kids), and our three dogs.

Now, it is four. Funny how different a number sounds. Three sounds like weeeee! But four is so much sterner and harder on the tongue.

But guess what? Averey makes FOUR in girls. So there number three, take that.

The next four is our anniversary date in 2014 – it’s NUMBER FOUR. Four in FOURteen. I like that.

And what I am saying is four is not a bad number. Not a bad number at all. Because number four brought a very unexpected bundle of precious fur to us. Fred changed our number. He changed our lives. Him, with his joie de vivre doggy ways.

I love him more than I should. I favor him, a little, and I adore him – a lot. He gets me. He gets life. He just rolls with it. He is the coolest, happiest little fella I have ever met.

And Fred? He made a big change coming to our house too. His world was the kitchen/dining room. That is where my mom kept him when he lived with her. One room is where he slept and played. She didn’t take him outside, or on walks, or in the car (not the last few years anyway).

And Fred, well, Fred likes to go. He likes to walk, but he LOVES to ride. He is all about paws out the window, head stretched out, and hair whipping in the wind.

So my dear number four – also called buddy, pumpkin pie, stinky boy, fuzzy wuzzy, mister, pumkin lunkin, furry monster, and cute lil’ fella. Here you are in all your doggy glory for all the blog world to see.

This is your ride.


Freddy’s ride.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

Start the engine,
give it some care.
As long as it goes,
not a second to spare.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

Wind in the willows,
wind in my hair.
A sniff of the world,
and see if I dare.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

Heart thumping wild,
mind on the brink.
I am the beast,
who cares what they think.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

Raring to go,
raring to live.
Locked up no more,
I got front dibs.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

A pocket of sunshine,
a wing, and a prayer.
Riding so sweet,
like I’m already there.

© 2013 Angelia's Photography

I am Freddy the Mighty!
Can you hear my roar?
Fearless and flying outside your front door.

**This post inspired by Freddy’s love of car rides and his photo being picked as a feature for Ellenburg Photography’s Project 52.

You go Freddy, you go.

That’s my boy!