Potatoes in real time - or where mud puppies really come from
Three things Anais Nin said

For the love of a dog


This is my doggy. His name is Simon and he's just past 13 months. Best I can tell he's probably about 180 and given his current rate of growth and the massive size of his frame he will probably top out between 240 - 260. I have had a lot of dogs all of them wonderful in their own particular ways. Simon is the best dog ever. Giant breeds tend to be gentle loving giants. That describes my boy perfectly.

That look on his face is stuck there I think. He's gazing at the baby chicks in the chicken pen and he is completely smitten despite the fact that he is inclined to chase them when they're loose and likes to kiss them with his entire giant mouth. Lucia yells, Moooooommmmm, Simon is nomming the chickens again! He's never hurt them. So that's his look unless he's grinning. Or laying on the floor just looking at me as if I am his sole reason for being. I've been loved in my life. A lot. But I've never been loved the way this guy loves me. There is nothing quite like doggy love. You love a doggy like this, even if it's just a little bit (and I love him quite a bit more than just a bit) and he will worship and adore you until the day he dies. And then maybe even more.

This post is for Cookie Crumb. She lost her little guy fairly recently and her heart hurts terribly. My heart hurts for her. I look at my doggy and I am so unbelievably grateful for his presence.

Someday he too will cross the rainbow bridge. I will go with him right to the edge and never turn my face away. Doggies should never cross that bridge without the face of their owners. Because they'll be waiting for you. On the other side of the bridge.

And I will keep his collar and hold it to my face now and then the same way my mother did and still does to this day.