Next to the tennis ball, Lucy loves snirt best. After retrieving the ball, she runs to the top of the snow+dirt pile, plops down and gives it some love ‘n’ affection. Crazy dog.
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February 16th, 2010
Lucy takes a break from her beloved tennis balls, which usually veer off course in the backyard and land in snow too deep for her to tread. But a good stick is a decent stand-in, and the yard is full of fallen branches from the recent snow storms. Come warmer weather, an expanse of bright green dots will slowly emerge from beneath the melting snow, and she’ll be retrieving tennis balls again.
January 13th, 2010
One of the most heartbreaking things about caring for animals is watching them struggle as they age. Emma, a golden retriever, graced our life for 11 years after we adopted her at age 4. Here she is, age 13, contemplating a porch step at our friends’ home in the Florida Keys. She’s preparing to brave it, aware of the pain her arthritic hips will cause. Once she conquered the step, though, she didn’t dwell on the pain or the difficulties of getting older. She just moved on and continued to enjoy her life.
January 1st, 2010
May you all enjoy the same energy, exuberance and ethos as Lucy throughout 2010 and beyond!
December 11th, 2009
This was taken November 1, at sunrise in my parents’ front yard in eastern Kentucky. Deer, rabbits and cows—yes, cows—have been roaming here and Lucy knows it. She always faces east when she lies in the yard, possibly because that’s where deer usually first appear. Here, she looks as though she has something else on her mind…
October 16th, 2009
“Hellooo…these floppy ears hinder my hearing a bit, so cocking my head is your cue to REPEAT YOUR GIBBERISH…” Dogs sometimes lose the endearing quality of cocking their heads as they age, but Lucy has not–at least not yet. As I wrote in the post, Say What?, any questions or new words or sounds, which Lucy hears, usually evoke this charming characteristic. And yeah, I am known to ask her a whole bunch of stupid questions just so I can see this.
October 13th, 2009
This looked like a homemade sign, so it appears that somebody means business, but that somebody has it all wrong, me thinks. “Here lies the owner of the last dog…” is more apt. Until doggies learn to bag their own deposits, the job’s on us, their people, so we’re accountable. And yes, they should be curbed, but mistakes happen. I don’t think there’s a homeowner who wouldn’t excuse a logistical boo-boo as long as it was cleaned up. Okay, so maybe I read too much into this. Argh.
September 30th, 2009
Poor Lucy. For days prior to this, we had been walking through a neighborhood where she always found a strawy patch to plop down for a good backrub. When we later walked her at this park, she immediately recognized the stuff, albeit in the form of a GIANT LOOFAH, and proceeded to get cozy with it. Would you like some bath salts with that, milady?
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 Nature, amateur photography, dogs and an all embracing sense of mellow, except for the occasional bouts of nostalgia and melancholy, that is...  |
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