The Sun Is Shining!

Perspective. It's a good thing.

The food for the hungry program here in my town is not open on Christmas day. But they will need help on Friday, the 21st, delivering food to families. I can do that! So I will.

Last night I got to help a little dog get back to her breeder. She was in a home that did not work out. I was a tiny part of her trip but it felt great. And we got to be helpful in two ways at once. Our very dear friends were going to Nashville yesterday to spend the night and catch their plane (to Mexico, lucky ducks) in the morning. This meant their daughter would have to do the five plus hour round trip. (At two and a half hours, Nashville is our nearest major airport.) So I said hey! I'm driving a dog to Nashville, you are welcome aboard.

Have I mentioned that Bill is a saint? He is. When he heard that I was driving the little dog to Nashville, he announced he was going along. He said, "I couldn't think of a single thing I'd rather do than spend five hours in the car with my wife. Well, I could, but the first one is too expensive, I can't do the second one anymore, and the third is unavailable. Fourth on the list of things I'd like to do isn't bad!" So now, with the added bonus of a two and a half hour visit in the car with our very dear friends, the trip was looking like a fun time.

About an hour before the ETA of the little dog (we were to meet at a gas station out near the Interstate, with the owner calling as she got close) I checked my phone messages. There was a cheerful message from a very elderly friend who lives alone, and I called her back. The phone rang, and made a connection, but the very elderly friend never said "hello". I could hear the TV in the background, but no elderly friend. I kept shouting "Hello" getting more and more concerned. "If you can hear me and you are in trouble just push a number on the phone. I'll come right over."

Nothing.

"I'm going over there," I told Bill. He kindly said he would hang by the phone and wait for the travelling dog's owner to call. My elderly friend lives about fifteen minutes from us. This was worrisome. If she were indeed in trouble, I would have a dog waiting at a gas station, very dear friends needing to make an international flight, and me waiting for Emergency Services. Oh Lord.

As I drove, I hit redial on my cell phone. Busy. But on the third try, when I had only gone a few blocks, my elderly friend cheerfully answered, "Hello, Patience! How are you? The sun shined today, wasn't it so beautiful?" Oh yes indeed it was glorious, I agreed. I turned around, not wanting to embarrass her by telling her what had transpired, and was still talking with her as I came back into our house. I smiled and nodded to Bill, and his warm smile added to my glow of relief. He has yet to meet my elderly friend, and still he cares just as much about her as I do. A saint he is.

We took Delia along for company for the little dog, which made Delia feel Ever So Special! I strapped two crates in the back of Bill's car, as the Whippet Wagon can accommodate nine whippets, but only two humans. We were riding in style. All the style that a white Buick Rendezvous could muster. (For a chuckle, read the first paragraph of that link.) The Vous. It looks a lot like a Gremlin on steroids or like an accidental cross-breeding between the Michelin Man and a Fed Ex truck, but there is tons of room in the back for large pieces of artwork, and on this trip, for two crates and our very dear friends' luggage. Got to love the Vous!



Bill and I picked up the little dog. She was heart-wrenchingly worried and frightened. You just couldn't help but apply the word traumatized. She purely didn't notice when I took her lead from her owner. I cuddled her (also unnoticed) and kissed her sweet head, and told her she was on her way home. Delia was very polite and welcomed her to the Vous. The little dog seemed relieved to see the safety of the crate and curled up and didn't make a sound for the next three hours. Not a peep. I don't even think she moved.



We had such a fun ride. Bill tortured us by saying, "I can't remember the third line of the Davy Crockett song. 'Born on a mountain top in Tennessee, greenest state in the land of the free, dah dah da dah da dah dah dah dee, kilt him a b'ar when he was only three! Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.' What the heck is that line?" (The answer is: "raised in the woods so he knew ev'ry tree," but we never got it, just kept singing Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier in our brains.) Just about the time when we got the Davy Crockett song out of our heads, Bill said, just out of the blue, "Who'd have thought that Sinatra would have had a hit about a rubber tree plant?" We weren't talking about Sinatra; we weren't even talking about music. I'm still stuck with "Whoops there goes another rubber tree, Whoops there goes another rubber tree, Whoops there goes another rubber tree plant!" We all laughed and laughed.



We dropped off our very dear friends at their hotel, and then at yet another gas station, we met the next person involved with getting the little dog back home. This person was a delight! She brought her beautiful greyhound along for company. I had to pry the little dog out of my crate, which was sad, and we put her in the very nice person's toasty warm van. The greyhound wagged a welcome, and the little dog curled up in yet another safe crate. This very nice person will keep her until Saturday, when the last leg of the journey to her breeder and her home can be made. This very nice person had ANGEL written all over every single beautiful inch of her being.



I will be so happy to hear that the little dog is home. And happy again.



Today, the sun is shining again. The dogs and I will bundle up and go for a walk. I will count my many, many blessings. It is winter, and I am not crazy about the darkness and the cold. But I have so many riches in my life. My husband, the saint. My son who is safe and loved. Bill's daughters and our adorable grandchildren who thrive.



And these nine sterling souls who grace my life. Beautiful, generous, cherished dogs who keep me grounded and humble and grateful and fulfilled. Who bring me to the most treasured friendships.



Perspective. It's a grand thing.


-----------------------------------------------