My blog has a new home!!

I've found a new home for my blog and photos! I hope you'll pop over and take a look here Picsie Chick. The site is still in the building stages, with all of the same great pictures, and many new features to come. I'd love to know what you think of it. See you there! ~T~

Sunday, April 25, 2010

For the Birthday Boy

For the Birthday Boy, originally uploaded by picsie.chick.

'Cuda. As in Bara. The car. 426 cubic inch Hemi. 4 speed traction lok. Camaro-busting street fighter. Power. Muscle. Border Collie.

Kind of a bullldozer, pushes right through whatever is is in the way. Not much for finesse.

Unless there's a hug involved. Yes, the muscle man, he's a mama's boy. Sweet, charming, full of soul and sighs. And can never resist "mama wants a hug".

And today is his birthday.

My babyboy dog, cuddle muffin, power boosted squeak herder is 11 years old. ELEVEN. Wow. How does that happen? Nearly a dozen wondrous years.

He wasn't always such a softie. He was a rambunctious youngster, trying our patience on a minute by minute basis. Smart enough to know exactly when he didn't want to listen. Somehow we all got through those years, survived and grew together as a family. Our own blended family. Canines, Felines, humans. Happy in our little world.

And every day I'm happy he's in our life. And nearly every day I wonder if we give him all he needs. Enough exercise? Enough brushing? Enough love?

And no matter how the day was, regardless of how much time we spent together, with no judgement, no reproach, nothing held back.

I get a hug.

And my heart melts in gratitude. Again. Happy Birthday, 'Cuda. I'm glad you're in our lives.



John C Davies said...

"And nearly every day I wonder if we give him all he needs. Enough exercise? Enough brushing? Enough love?" These are the questions that MUST be asked. These are the family ties. For the second you stop wondering and start assuming you begin to sever the ties that bind.

Picsie Chick said...

Thank you! I love thinking of this in these terms instead of thata ever-present catholic-upbringing-induced guilt.

Hugs and butterflies,