Scruffy, First Kiss of 2013 - Photo Friday

Sometimes I just want to sit with my dogs.

I have three.

I grew up wishing for a German Shepherd.

However, during childhood, I had two small dogs who were mysteriously transported to a great big farm where they had "plenty of room to run" instead of biting the neighbor lady during her walk. 

When I was married and my girls were toddlers I had a Cocker Spaniel who died from eating an entire bin of diapers.  It was tragic.

I still wanted a dog.

After much research discovering the best breed for families, I acquired a Greyhound from the local rescue.  We named him "Relay" which I thought was clever.  He cleverly bit my younger daughter on the forehead and went back to the rescue.  Too bad.  He made me very popular at the dog park.

A few years passed.  Well, maybe only half of one.  I still wanted a dog.

I wanted the girls to not be afraid of dogs and took them to the shelter to pick one out.  

We looked at a German Sherpherd, my childhood dream.  He was too big and reminded my girls of the harrowing event of forehead biting.

We looked at a Cocker Spaniel, but he reminded me of the mournful event of diaper eating.

We spied an older Chihuahua mix cowered in a corner.  When we got near to her she slowly approached and sat calmly as the girls took turns to pet her.  Her name was "Tina".

She became ours.  All was well.

A few years passed, I got a divorce and moved my girls and Tina across the country.  As we were settling in, I was sad.  I didn't know if it was due to the end of my marriage or knowing I would probably never have another baby, but I was full of it.  Grief.  

We were at our new local pet store getting food for Tina and we saw him.  A tiny Chihuahua.  He came home with the food and we named him Frodo.  The grief began to diminish.

Two months later, while getting food for Tina AND Frodo, I heard my girls say, "Oh Mommy, isn't he so cute?"  

He was a cute ball of fluff and he was half off.  Another Chihuahua, one with long hair, entered our lives.  We named him Scruffy.  The grief continued to fade.

This is Scruffy pictured yesterday at six years of age: 

I may never have a German Shepherd, but that's OK.  Scruffy gives the best kisses.  In fact, he was my first kiss of 2013, followed by Tina and then Frodo.

Why?

Because sometimes I just want to sit with my dogs.

Memories Captured: Frodo

After my divorce, I knew I would most likely never have another child.  This thought did not diminish my gratitude for the experiences I had with my then six and eight year old daughters.  But I did grieve babies.  

So, I purchased a dog.

A small baby dog. 

A boy dog. 

And I named him Frodo. 

I knew that he, like Tolkien’s character, would be interested in the outside world. 

Frodo frequently escapes from the confines of his dog life in our fenced back yard.  I send M out into the dangerous parts of our neighborhood to find him, while I sit and worry if his little body is being crushed under a car.

We have the fence rigged now, with bricks from our landscaping—all spaces filled, creating a barrier between Frodo’s safety and the outside world. 

When he is not enjoying the sun outside, he is inside, curled in my lap, or snuggled deep beneath the blankets on one of the girls’ beds.

He is not a real baby. 

He is not a boy. 

However, he is the baby boy I will never have.

Don't judge.

It is scientifically proven that the brain changes after one gives birth to a baby.

My brain certainly changed after my divorce.

Wordless 

Wednesday