Tuesday, March 29, 2016
If it weren’t for the dogs, I could just close the house and go for as long as I like, but there are five depending on me. I planned to be dog less so I could travel, but these dogs bark at strangers in the night. Many days I talk and they listen; these days they’re the only ones who do. We’re friends, so I provide for them when I travel.
About ten years ago, when Kirt and I bought the house in PuertoRico, we fed dogs that came and went; only Stormie, the border collie stayed. A couple of years later we returned to be greeted by Blondie, who was then a young adult of at least a year, probably a year and a half.
Every trip to
Puerto Rico for a few years we were welcomed home by Blondie
and Stormie, and then someone in a big SUV dumped Chi in front of the neighbor’s
house. Every year other dogs migrated past our door. Kirt never didn’t have a
problem with feeding the strays, but had philosophical discussions about what
was our problem and what is the island’s problem; and he was as kind hearted a
man as I’ve ever meet.
We left the world of pure bred champion dogs behind in
, said farewell to cold weather and life with dogs
as the epicenter, but now, we had Illinois two Puerto Rican street dogs going with us to . Blondie and Chi loved the Big Easy; raccoons
under a house were way better than squeaky toys, but for a new invention, the
leash, they’d have a raccoon for doggie games. New Orleans
In the last months of Kirt’s life Lucky and Robert Redford appeared in the same week. Kirt and I agreed we needed a couple of boys to balance the girl-boy ratio. Along came Lola with marks of physical abuse still visible, her feet swollen giving her a sadly endearing gait. Before he died, we had a family of five fur kids.
Here I am almost three years later with my family of five.