The "lost art"

The other day, both my neighbor and I were sitting in our own backyards.  We weren't conversing over the fence, as we sometimes do but just quietly enjoying the weather, and me, my crossword puzzle.

After a little while, the silence was broken by the sound of her six year old daughter opening the back door and announcing "I added a flower!"  A few minutes later, she opened the door again and announced, "I added some fishes!" . . . As the announcements continued, I surmised that she must be painting a picture and was obviously so excited about it, she wanted her mom know about each addition to her masterpiece.

Then came the sound of screaming and crying . . . I was alarmed at first, worrying that my little neighbor had injured herself but then I realized she was yelling at the family dog.  Within minutes, she and the dog were in the backyard and through her tears, she was telling him he couldn't go back into the house until he told her why he had ruined her life.  The little girl continued to cry as she said, "Why do dogs have to come in and ruin little girl's lives?"

I didn't mean to be eavesdropping, but it was kind of hard not to.  I wondered what Cricket could have possibly done to ruin her life.  Just then I got an image in my mind of Cricket standing over the little girl's artwork, admiring her accomplishment . . . as water dripped off his muzzle and all over the painting.

I could feel how much he had wanted to share in her excitement and show his appreciation for what she had done.  I could also feel how terrible he felt that he had ruined her painting.  I wished there was something I could do - I felt so bad for the little girl and for Cricket - but I didn't think it was my place to intervene.

As time went on, her approach softened a bit and she was no longer talking about him ruining her life.  In a calm voice, I heard her tell him that he needed to tell her why he ruined her picture, or he wasn't going to be able to go back in the house.  She must have picked up the same thing I did from him (that he just wanted to admire her artwork and that he felt really bad about ruining it) because the next thing I knew, she and Cricket were heading back into the house.

From the sounds of things, she and Cricket are back to being the best of friends and I have a feeling he'll think twice about drinking a bunch of water before he admires anything else of hers.

 

No More Chances

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you know that Lucky told me before she passed that she would come back to me in a few years.  When I asked how I would find her, I was told to look for a german shepherd named Chance.  Ever since then, that has been my "mission" - to find a german shepherd named Chance.

Last spring I found one and was over the moon when the guy who ran the rescue group decided I would be the perfect adopter . . . and then Chance's foster mom decided she wanted to keep him herself and well, I felt pretty "under the moon" after that.

Once I got over that disappointment, I got back on my quest and have spent the last 9-10 months continuing to look Chance.  I often wondered if I should give up and just get any german shepherd because I miss having one so much, but ultimately I decided to keep having faith and trust that it would all work out.

Two weeks ago, I found another german shepherd named Chance and it looked like it was all coming together.  As I prepared the house and yard for my new roommate, I was beyond excited thinking about how wonderful it was going to be to finally be with "Lucky Chance"(as my friend's call him) again.  I didn't imagine it could fall through again . . . and yet, it did.  It felt like the ultimate smack down.

I have always believed that if the same thing happens to us again, it is because we didn't learn the lesson that was there for us the first time.  I have spent much of the last week pondering this, trying to open my mind and my heart to whatever lesson I may have missed.  I don't have any answer yet.

What I have decided is that it is time to abandon my "quest" - the information I received may have been very true and accurate at the time I got it, but a lot of time has passed since then and maybe things have changed.  Sometimes "staying the course" isn't the best approach . . . and in this case, I think it's time to change the course.  I know that once I grieve the loss of the dream, I will be able to open my heart to another german shepherd, by whatever name he or she comes with.  I'm not there yet, but maybe some day soon.