Goodbye Rocky-dog

A really great dog has left us. I feel so sad for my friends Allyson and Chad, who shared their home and family with Rocky for so long. It's sad to see him go, even though I haven't actually seen him in many years.

Chad muses about the impact of Rocky's life on others and makes an interesting point about wanting his own life to touch people. Some people will say that Rocky was just a dog. But when a dog has this kind of an effect on people, he is a gift from God.

Meow

I'm on a roll. Two posts in one day. Look out.

Inspired by Allyson's desire not to leave her second cat out of the fun, here is a picture of Gatwick licking his chops (while Cheska chows down beside him, eating the remains of his food.)

In a Snowy Wood

David coerced me into a winter wonderland frolic when he was home for Christmas. There was no snow at my house this day, but Lynn Run State Park (just 45 minutes away) was transformed into a land of sparkling delight.

This picture shows off David's Photo Shop skills and catches me in a moment when I'm not looking around to see if a bear might come eat us in those quiet, quiet woods.

I have to admit: It was magical. (And not a bear or mountain lion to be seen.)

Slacker Blogger

Okay, I've been called out. I got this email from my brother this morning:

"you hardly blog on your blog site. i check everyday. "

Yes, it's true, I'm a blogger slacker. I was thinking about it this weekend, but didn't find time to blog.

And now that I have a digital camera, there's no excuse for me not to have photos up on this here site.

So here's a photo of my darling little kitty Cheska. David took this picture last summer.

So there. I have a blog entry. And a photo. And a tribute to my brother. Ha.

Gatwick the Catwick

I got a cat last week. He's my very first pet. He's a five-month-old grey tabby named Gatwick, and I love him.

If I sound like a child as I write this, it's because I feel like one. After all, he is my very first pet apart from the random strays that my parents took in from a few days to a few months when I really was a kid. But more on that later.

I see myself as a six-year-old girl, carrying the cat around the house under one arm. Actually, I like to cradle him in my arms and carry him around. And have him sit in my lap. Lucky for me, Gatwick is a total lap cat. Sure, he gets frisky, but he's a lover at heart. And I'm just eating it up, man.

I've never really been a cat person. Or a dog person, for that matter. I like them both. And I've always been equally afraid and fascinated with each. Animals, even lovable house pets, tended to freak me out. I think I caught a weird Twilight Zone episode with a creepy dog once. Anyway, I like animals, but have never been terribly comfortable around them. Especially when their eyes do that eerie reflector-glow thing in the dark.

But Gatwick is not creepy. Still, I'm surprised to discover just how much I love having a pet around. I initially wanted a rabbit because I heard you can train them and let them hop around the house. But James (my husband) wasn't so keen on the free-range bunny idea.

We moved into our first house about 2.5 months ago, and discussed the possibility of a pet before we even sent the first mortgage check. An encounter with a stray cat that we named Filibuster was probably the precipitous event that sent us to the Humane Society to adopt Gatwick. Even if the Filibuster did send me to the emergency room. (More on that next post.)

Gatwick was at the shelter for about two weeks, during which time he was called George. We promptly renamed him. Well, promptly is an overstatement. It took us four days to settle on a name. In the running were the following: Avery, Chester, Slate, Pewter, Jenners, and Eddie.

Come back later for the Filibuster story, along with the saddest dog story in the world.