Ginger

Today I stopped in my tracks while getting dinner ready to marvel at my 14 year old dog laying in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room all sprawled out on her side in the doorway and paying me absolutely no heed what-so-ever as I walked back and forth from the kitchen to the table stepping over her each time. She opened her eyes the first time and then she must have realized that I was setting the table because then she just went right back to sleep as I carefully crossed over her.

Finally after the table was set and while my eldest son was

watching the dinner for me and chopping some cheese, I sat down with her there in the middle of the floor between the kitchen and dining room and just gave her a few minutes of my time petting her and let her know how much I appreciate her complete and utter trust.

I have the same trust in her, knowing that even though she loves everyone she meets, she still gets angry when I get angry and she doesn't like anyone to get hit around her even if they are playing. She makes me feel safe and I am glad that I in turn make her feel safe also.

Do you have a pet that trusts you and has your trust? Leave me a comment and let me know. Thanks for dropping by.

Locked Out

The boys were very young, about 2 and 4 years old. They were sleeping in the living room, the baby in the crib and my big boy was on the couch. We would often lie down on the couch together and fall asleep at nap time and then I'd get up and do some household chores.

I got up and was doing the dishes like usual and I don't know if it was the water running or something else but our beagle wanted outside. So, I dry my hands and go from the kitchen into the laundry room and out to open the back door to and let her out. I turn to go back into the house and I'm locked out.

It took about two seconds for me to realize all the dangers that were inside the house with my boys. We had two house cats and several candles burning in the living room, dining room and kitchen.

The first thing that went through my mind was that one of the cats would knock a candle onto the floor and start the house on fire. Or worse, one of the boys would wake up and mess with a candle. Or, a cat could crawl into the playpen and suffocate the baby.

After totally freaking out in ten seconds time, the next task at hand was to get inside that house and save my boys any way possible.

The door was a step up from the floor, a typical wooden door with a large Plexiglas type of plastic window. My first thought was to break the window on the door. I grabbed the snow shovel propped nearby and tried hitting the window. First try, I made a scratch. I get mad and really give it all I got for the second try, another scratch. Now I'm mad and frustrated, third try. I'm like a warrior woman trying to kill a bear, a third scratch. I drop the shovel and start to cry.

After a few minutes my resolve builds again, I like watching cop shows and they kick doors in, so that is what I'll do. First kick and I hear things that could be promising, wood cracking a little. I'm excited. I kick it again, definite sounds of wood splintering and the door is open.
I'm so relieved that I let the dog in and we enter the house only five minutes after we exited and I rush into the living room to find my babies still sound asleep, not even aware of the emotional wreck their mother had become.

So, I sit on the floor with my back against the couch and just breathe. I wipe a tear off my cheek and reach down to pet the cat that is rubbing against my thigh. The same loving little creature that was the source of panic just moments before and then hug her close while I stand up to blow out those darn candles.