This past weekend I once again was privileged to go up to my friends' farm and stay with the dogs while they took a couple of days away. I'd done this in
May, and had a wonderful time.
No small part of the pleasure of doing this is in knowing that I am doing something special for people I love. For that alone, it is worth it. The payback, though, is enormous. The dogs with whom I get to spend time are friends, too - true friends - and the opportunity to refresh my relationships with those among them whom I've known all their lives is like gold to me. It is as comfortable as coming home, as familiar as an old easy chair, and as welcome as true love ever is.
That has a solid depth to it, and affords me a sense of peace and belonging. The chance to forge new relationships with the younger dogs I do not know as well brings with it a different kind of joy - it's the joy that comes with the excitement and magic of new love and new friendship. It's exhilerating, infused with discovery along with bright sparks of recognition and brilliant flashes of understanding. I wouldn't trade a minute of either, old love or new.
This visit, I spent some time for the first time with Eagle, a retired trail horse who's been there for quite awhile, but with whom I've never had the opportunity to spend much time. Another new friendship, more discovery, more falling in love.
You may remember Eagle from
last fall's posts about Shrimp. He's a very special soul. Shrimp is doing very well. Thanks in part to Eagle's caring companionship, in part to the dedication of the veterinary staff at Cornell, and in huge part to the dedication and determination of her loving friends, John and Suzanne, who never gave up on her, and listened to her needs, Shrimp made a miraculous recovery. She's a lovely little soul, who thrives on affection and attention. It was hard to get a picture of her because she kept following me so closely. This was the best I could do.
I finally had to ask Suzanne to take a picture of us together in order for the camera to be far enough away to get any of Shrimp in the shot. She's just irresistably cute and appealing. I am so glad she is doing so well.
Cute is not the word to describe Professor Spot. Impressive. Funny. Interesting. Even altruistic, if you'd seen his relationship with his father. But not cute. He was a cute piglet. And ok, if you like pigs' noses, he's got a really cute nose. But I wouldn't call Spot "cute." I wanted to get Grizzly, Crow's full brother and a fair sized male GSD in his own right, in this picture, but sometimes, with a crappy digital camera with a slow shutter and animals, you just take what you can get. Still, I do wish I'd gotten something in this shot that conveys Spot's true size. If I tell you that's he's longer end to end than I am tall does that give you some idea?
His dad, Connor, was a
Gloucestershire Old Spot (photo for example only, is not of Connor.) His mother was dear old
Charlotte,a Yorkshire cross, who can be seen far from her full-grown size if you click on her name. Both links give a better idea of Spot's size than my photograph begins to do.
My lovely dogs went to the kennel while I was away. It would not be possible to keep them amused and comfortable and still do duty with all 10 of Suzanne's dogs. Normally, they enjoy the kennel, and I believe from what they tell me that they did this time, too. There was, however, a little incident with nails during the final hours there that might have altered that, but I've apologized to Crow, who is a wonderfully forgiving and resilient soul, and assured her that no one will ever do that to her again. She is happy to be home, as is her handsome brother, Hudson. I missed them tremendously, and am happy to say that this old love of ours wears as well as and carries with it as much joy as the new loves and old friendships I have at Hawks Hunt Farm. That just being together can put an expression like this on anyone's face is reward enough. As I said in May - well worth doing. These friendships nourish and sustain. They make life meaningful and worth every loss and heartache that is suffered along the way.
And just when did black and white print skirts become so fashionable? (There are at least 2 more in the back rows.) I, of course, rebel that I am, am still in denim.
And just when did black and white print skirts become so fashionable? (There are at least 2 more in the back rows.) I, of course, rebel that I am, am still in denim.
