We have a new member of the family. She’ll live in the utility room for a while but will have full privileges before long. Ripley is still a little uncertain about what this new creature means to her but will warm to her quickly. They grow quickly so we’re taking lots of pictures.
That’s the new pup’s name. We pick her up this coming weekend. She’ll be doing her business on the Wall Street Journal until house broken. If images of puppies make you queasy, you might want to stop back by in a month or two.
The new puppies are 3 weeks old so we drove to Union, Missouri to select the new member of the family. The Head Human at Country Golden Acres is Theresa and the woman radiates love for her Golden Retrievers. There are two new litters. One 5 weeks old…one 3 weeks old.
Barb selected #17 (we’re working on a name). Theresa spends ALL of her time with her dogs but treats each one like a member of the family. She’s been at it a while but says life is good when surrounded by the Golden’s. It’s like a love farm…you come away glowing.
Years ago I vowed never to do an unpleasant job if I had the money to pay someone else to do it. My reasoning is quite sound: I love the work I do and would, in fact, do it for no pay. If I give that money to someone to do those things I dislike doing, I can go get so more money by doing something I love. Is that so hard to understand? But there are a few manual chores I enjoy. Splitting firewood is one of those. All those sticks and no fetching. Ripley was not pleased.
Our oldest pup got really sick on Monday of last week. Took her to the the local vet and by Wednesday it looked like we might lose her. Thursday morning Barb suggested we take her to the MU vet school where they found a nasty thing on her liver and did emergency surgery. Still not out of the woods but looking better every day. When I get really sick, this is where I want to be taken. This is great facility with really smart, caring people.
On the phone with Land’s End tonight (ordering new pants) when Ripley started barking from the deck. The Land’s End lady says, “You have a Golden Retriever.” Whoa! “We have a Golden,” she explains, “and I recognized the bark. I do that with customers all the time.” Give that lady a biscuit.
Barb’s Camry died (after ten years) so it was off to St. Louis to shop for a new one this weekend. I spent two very comfortable hours in the waiting area of the Lexus dealership while Barb talked herself into buying an RX330. Hard to call something this nice a sport utility vehicle. I confess to being pretty impressed with the Lexus “experience.” A greeter met us when we arrived and introduced Barb to her “sales and leasing consultant.” Apparently, you don’t have to sell the Lexus. The consultant is there to “assist you with your purchase.”
Lots of nice touches. If you have a breakdown on the road, Lexus sends out a flat-bed truck (“…we don’t tow”), puts you up in a hotel and provides you with a loaner. I watched the switchboard operator for a couple of hours. When she paged someone from the parts department, they arrived as quickly as they could. If they tagged on “…for a customer” to the page, the person arrived immediately. Just lots of little things like that. The dealership provided lunch for all employees. So, we started with a Tercel, then a Corolla, a Camry, 4 Runner and now, a Lexus. Well over a million miles in Toyota’s.
I sold the family home this week. Not really a home for the last few years, but the place my brother and I grew up. I actually remember some of the places we lived before Evelyn persuaded John it made more sense to own than rent. I think they paid about $5,000 for the house back in the early 50’s. Probably paid $50 a month for 30 years. Evelyn had our trash guy plant a couple of little sycamore trees and they grew to 70 foot monsters before John had cut down because he got tired of “having leaves all over the yard.” Evelyn was gone by then.
50 years at 500 Walter Street boiled down to set of mis-matched golf clubs; a box of trophies (Blane’s); some really heavy high school year books; a set of 78 RPM records from the 40’s; a couple of pounds of mold and mildew; and a lifetime of memories. Everyone kept asking me if it was difficult to sell the house in which our family had lived all those years. I said no and that was more true than not. But for two days I kept hearing Peter, Paul and Mary singing The House Song.
This room here once had childish laughter
And I come back to hear it now and again
I can’t say that I’m certain what you’re after
But in this room, a part of you will remain.
Every night I arrive home, pull into the garage and get out of the car. Above me, Andie and Ripley are scrambling. I can hear their toe nails on the hard wood floors. Andie is frantically searching for a favorite toy. As I trudge up the steps, we’re both making noises. They’re moaning with anticipation at seeing one of their humans. I’m speaking that modified baby talk that child-free dog owners use with their pets. I always know what I’ll see when I turn the corner and head up the last flight of stairs. The two Golden’s, side by side, delighted to see one of their humans. Just one of life’s little joys that I try not to take for granted.