Things are swell in Teetsville. New beginnings are all around. Maybe Myra will come back and tell some of her own stories of new beginnings. She moved to another radio station and some really good stuff has happened to her over there. I will give her a while to come forth with the goodies and if she doesn't, I may have to blurt.
::Zippin it for now::
I have started back on the old exercise regimen. I've been hopelessly bad for a good long while. Time to get back on the right track.
We were having perfect weather for a few days and then ~ZAP~ we're back in the hot humid stuff. This ain't right. It's mid-October, Mother Nature, time to roll up the humidity, put it away, and let the cool, leaf changing weather begin.
I know some of you are already having cold weather and it boggles the mind. One of these years I'm going to go to New England to see the fall foliage. I love that. It is one of my favorite things to do. We lived in Massachusetts for a while when I was a little kid and I remember the colors of the leaves. They were so vivid. That was a good place to do kindergarten and first grade.
I took Abby for a brisk walk earlier this evening and wore her out. She's zonked. It went pretty smoothly except for a couple of unfortunate incidents involving her leash getting wrapped around a mailbox post. She almost walked in front of my feet one time and if she had, we'd have both been eating concrete. I had to make the leash shorter and not let her run all around. The last lap of the walk was for her. I let her stop at every mailbox and shrub that she wanted. She dug it.
Some sad news:
Our beloved family pooch, Spike, died on October 15th. Spikey boy was a great dog. He was a small dog that looked like maybe a long haired chihuahua, or a cross between a chihuahua and one of those flat faced long haired dogs that I can't remember the name of right now. Pekingese! That's it. Anyway, he had buggy eyes and his lower teeth stuck out further than his upper ones. He was adorable and loved by most. I stole him from some people. I'll tell that story... maybe tomorrow.
My ex husband and Spike were inseparable, so when we decided to split up, my ex moved to Washington State and I let him take Spikey with him. It would have been cruel to both of them to keep them apart. Bink and I loved Spike very much, but we both thought it would be good to let Daddy take Spike so they would have each other. I grieved Spike back then, because I knew he would die away from us and this would be one of the last times I would see him. He was pretty old then. We did get some more visits in. The ex brought him when he came down to visit. Bink flew up and visited them.
We loved our Spikey. He was the only dog I knew that could spell. He used to listen to what we said and when he heard the words "bite" or "go" or "you wanna" he would go apeshit, because YES, he wanted a bite, and YES, he definitely wanted to GO. Eventually, if we needed to say the word "go" or "bite", but it wasn't really an offer for Spike, we would spell it out. Pretty soon, he could spell those two words and he reacted to the spelled out words just as much as saying the word outright. He also had a strong reaction to the phrase "Is it?" because when Daddy's truck would drive up outside, I'd say "Is it?" "Is it Daddy?" "Spike? I think it's Daddy!" and he'd go balistic. He couldn't contain his joy and his raw desperation to get to Daddy, his favorite human.
He sang. It was hilarious to watch him sing. Thank goodness Bink got some home movies of him on her camcorder when she went up there last November. He used to only sing with us, because girl voices are higher, but when he moved to Washington, he started singing with Daddy, because he had no other option.
I feel sad, and grieved some with Bink, but I did most of my grieving a few years ago when they moved. My poor ex is devastated though. He had to go through the whole awful thing. I'm still a little raw from Dagget's passing. It has brought that back to me a little, but I'm not going on an extended grief-o-rama this time.
Tomorrow I'll have to write about why I stole the dog. And why I would do it again...
That's a riveting cliff hanger, no?