I'm not like that

I just did a search for "Stay-at-Home" since that's part of my title for this blog, and found lots and lots of listings for stay-at-home moms. That phrase never occurred to me: my kind of stay-at-home is Emily Dickinson. She had her house and her garden and out of that she built an entire world. I'm watching the bamboo sway in the breeze from my kitchen window. If I had to put myself in a box, a window is the kind of box I'd want. I need to see.

Some Loves Lost and Found

The daughter of a good friend had to put her dog to sleep a couple of weeks ago. I just found out. I'm told that Lewis had a head the size of a bowling ball and other than that, was all elbows.I only met him a couple of times, but I remember those elbows. He could clear a kitchen countertop in thirty seconds. Sunday dinner as antipasto. When she first rescued him, he chewed everything to the point that she just gave up and gave in - that's what love will do to you. I say this with some authority because my Gus, also a rescue, had the most melancholy howl. He was very sick when I had to put him to sleep. I whispered "I love you" into his ear as the injection went in. Gus was my heart, and his death put a crack in it. That wasn't enough to stop me from getting another dog -- in fact, the same friend who told me about Lewis gave me my Henry, who was very proud of his bloodlines (or so a pet psychic told me). His heart embraced the world and belonged to me, but failed young. Another crack, which brought me to Ollie, who has one brown eye and one blue. He worries when I cry -- or when any friend cries, for that matter -- and climbs into the sad person's lap to offer his comfort. I'd send Ollie to sit in for Lewis, just for a moment, if I could.