Mine begins today. I'm almost too tired to appreciate it. I have lots of things planned that have nothing to do with studying. If the weather will behave itself, I want to get my garden tilled (with Gary at the helm, of course). I plan to sleep late (if I can remember how), drink a lot of coffee, take my dog for lots of walks, and play a video game (maybe two!). My house looks like a tornado hit it and has for two weeks. I've been so busy studying that there's been no time to deal with it. I'm looking forward to cleaning.
They are good people--exceptional even--they adopt special needs kids and dedicate their whole lives to caring for them--they just keep their dogs differently than we keep ours and this is the thing I remind myself of every time I drift into critical, unpleasant thoughts. They are farmers and the dog got out an open gate at night while they were moving stock around to protect it from the coyotes. In fact, when they couldn't find him, they assumed the coyotes had gotten him. That little dog must have run for miles to wind up on the highway--and he certainly wasn't fast, so I'm assuming he must have evaded them. No wonder he was laying down when we found him the next morning.
From the beginning, I knew God has a plan in mind, that we were the ones who were suppose to rescue the dog. Gary never, ever picks up strays (well, not dogs, anyway) and couldn't get this one out of his mind. God made the whole thing simply too easy, making funds available for the grooming so I wouldn't mind having him in my house, hanging with my dogs, even providing us with an extra kennel to keep him in. I guess my idea as to what he wanted was wrong. It often is. Sam was deeply disappointed, but he is gifted with a pragmatism that far surpasses mine. After a bit of grieving (which of course broke my heart), he took a big breath and said, "I'm glad he wasn't dumped by a lousy breeder," shook it off and focused on the bright side. Sometimes I wish I could be Sam when I grow up.
I wish Dante' a long, happy life. In fact, I've asked God to give him one so his boy can enjoy him for as long as possible. I am only too aware of how brief that time is.
I've been crafting a short story since January--one scene at a time, a sentence here and there. When I say "crafting" I mean choosing every detail carefully. It is a story about our three oldest dogs (Solomon, who passed away in December, Oscar, and Scrappy). I am weaving a legend about the unseen things they protect us from. In his brief stay with us, Dante' found his way into it. It is nearing the climax. I will be putting a big dent in it over Spring Break and will probably post it in its entirety here once I'm finished. I have no illusions about its saleability. It is simply something I think the boys will appreciate some day when they tell their own kids about the dogs they've known.
Meanwhile, I'm going to get off here and go do--absolutely nothing constructive for a few hours.