Grand Slam Communication
The Blue Angels are in town.
The air show is this weekend.
They’ve been practicing all day.
I was sitting in the back yard watching them fly.
Poor Blue.
She doesn’t like the noise.
She freaked out and ran around in circles.
I laughed and snuggled her and sent her into the house.
Her name is Blue.
But she does not appreciate the Blue Angels.
We had a good rain last night.
Blue the Rescue Dog went nuts this morning.
She spent two hours sniffing every square inch of our wet back yard.
I don’t think she’s ever experienced a rainstorm before.
She was rescued from an abusive situation.
She spent her whole life in a crate.
She never went outside.
The last couple of months she lived in a loving foster home.
They treated her very well, but we didn’t get much rain this summer.
Today may have been her first post-rainstorm sniff ever.
She was a little disgruntled that I insisted on toweling her off before allowing her back in the house.
Sorry, Blue, that rule applies to everyone.
Even the humans have to clean up before coming inside.
Good girl, Blue, good girl.
It’s National Dog Day.
I miss my Wrigley.
I miss her at the crack of dawn.
She always did a happy dance at breakfast time.
I miss her reigning on her throne.
It was a corner of the couch.
From that vantage point she could watch the front door.
For intruders.
And she could also watch the kitchen.
For crumbs.
She could rule over her queendom without having to actually make any effort.
It was an impressive act of laziness.
Every time anyone walked by her sofa, she expected a cuddle.
She always got it.
The standards have been set.
When I am an old lady, I want to reign just like Wrigley.
Wrigley.
August 3, 2005 – August 3, 2021.
Well, we aren’t really sure about her birthdate.
We rescued her on August 3, 2006, and she was about a year old, so we assigned her the birthdate.
The boys were little, and birthdays were important.
Wrigley has been with us for 15 years.
She has seen us through a lot of hard times.
She comforted both of our mothers during their final illnesses.
And she consoled the family after each loss.
She saw the boys through their teen years.
And she helped each of the boys, in turn, adjust to their T1 diabetes diagnosis.
She was the anchor in our family, and now she is gone.
The house feels adrift and bleak without her in it.
We rescued her, but I think that she really rescued us.
Good girl, Wrigley, good girl.