I remember being told many years ago that "until you're a mother, you simply can't understand". For my money, truer words were never spoken. The love between a mother and her child - that absolute earth shattering connection that begins at conception and intensifies 1000 fold when first she gazes into her baby's eyes - is beyond comprehension until you're there.
There are likely several million blog entries about the love between a mother and child. This entry is about other fascinating and, at times, devastating aspects of that love.
Surely I'm not the only woman whose new baby love caused her to consider, perhaps for the first time, the experience of her mother when she held her own brand new infant. The personal experience of "motherhood" invites that perspective. Until I had my own precious child, there was no way I could understand the gut wrenching ache of leaving my darling in day care so I could go to work. My own mother worked all her life. I had no idea how hard it was for her to leave me five days a week.
Fast forward ... high school graduation. I received my diploma and I was free! Free to move away, out into the world, free to become. Now I know my mother likely cried herself to sleep that night and for days or weeks afterward, just like I did when I dropped my "baby girl" off at college.
Fast forward again, through years of astonishing moments to my daughter's wedding day. It was the most beautiful day of my life. I knew the pride that only a parent can feel. I shared my daughter's dreams for "happily ever after" and I suddenly knew what an incredible day my wedding was for my own mother; how her heart swelled with hopes and dreams for me, even though she couldn't be present for the ceremony.
Now I am watching my daughter's divorce. It tears my heart out to know how my mother hurt as she witnessed my divorce. I was so overwhelmed by my sorrow, I had no idea of her devastation. It's worse, much worse than the departure of my own husband all those years ago. Mrs. to Ms. is hell - whether it's for the best or not - whether it's your idea or not. And I can't help but ache for the long nights my mother spent worrying about me, wishing she could kiss it away like when I was small but knowing there was nothing she could do.
"Thank you, Mom" for the tears I now know you cried, the fears you held inside, and the many, many prayers you said on my behalf when you were helpless to take away my hurt and my fear. I made it. Not always gracefully, but I made it. And now I am using your model to help me hold my tongue, to show up with hot soup on her doorstep, to leave her loving text messages out of the blue. She'll make it too, but how I wish I could take it all away with a kiss, a rocking chair and a children's story about princesses and unicorns.
I can't help but yearn for the joy of seeing my daughter truly happy again. I want to look in the mirror and see the look that was in my mother's eyes when, after years of healing and growing and single parenthood, my own true love came along. Mom adored Brent for his gentle spirit, his strength, his courage and, most of all, his devotion to me. She died knowing I was cherished. I can only hope to die so Blessed.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Hello ... hello ... ?
Wow. I wandered back into my blog site tonight and now I'm sitting here wondering where I've been.
Truth is, I did get the job I applied for in June with The American Cancer Society. I am a Quality of Life Manager. As such, I am responsible for administering the programs that give back to the communities who so generously make our work possible through their donations of dollars, hours, and love. Those programs are Road to Recovery, Reach to Recovery, Lodging, Look Good...Feel Better - in each county of western Montana, including Helena and Butte. I started in the Missoula office in July and am only now feeling like I know what I'm doing (most days). I am on the road a lot which, so far, I enjoy.
I've met incredible people, heard amazing stories of heroism, and felt my heart break over and over. It's been fascinating to experience the evolution of my thoughts on cancer. I find myself surrounded by "survivors" - those who have whipped this damnable disease - and I have wholeheartedly embraced ACS's lofty mission to wipe out cancer for good. I've learned new definitions for "courage" and "hope"and I've made wonderful new friends. I know I'm making a difference. And as my occasionally humorous spouse keeps reminding me, I'm definitely not bored!
You might have guessed that this would somehow be about greyhounds. Yep. Through it all, my pups have sustained me. They've loved me no less for my long hours. They've welcomed me home no matter what time I arrive. They snuggle up to me when I stop for a moment. They keep my beloved Brent company when I'm putting in another long day.
If there can be one constant in this sea of change, I am blessed that my constant is love.
Truth is, I did get the job I applied for in June with The American Cancer Society. I am a Quality of Life Manager. As such, I am responsible for administering the programs that give back to the communities who so generously make our work possible through their donations of dollars, hours, and love. Those programs are Road to Recovery, Reach to Recovery, Lodging, Look Good...Feel Better - in each county of western Montana, including Helena and Butte. I started in the Missoula office in July and am only now feeling like I know what I'm doing (most days). I am on the road a lot which, so far, I enjoy.
I've met incredible people, heard amazing stories of heroism, and felt my heart break over and over. It's been fascinating to experience the evolution of my thoughts on cancer. I find myself surrounded by "survivors" - those who have whipped this damnable disease - and I have wholeheartedly embraced ACS's lofty mission to wipe out cancer for good. I've learned new definitions for "courage" and "hope"and I've made wonderful new friends. I know I'm making a difference. And as my occasionally humorous spouse keeps reminding me, I'm definitely not bored!
You might have guessed that this would somehow be about greyhounds. Yep. Through it all, my pups have sustained me. They've loved me no less for my long hours. They've welcomed me home no matter what time I arrive. They snuggle up to me when I stop for a moment. They keep my beloved Brent company when I'm putting in another long day.
If there can be one constant in this sea of change, I am blessed that my constant is love.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Greyt Lessons
It goes without saying that I’m totally smitten with greyhounds. And I know my hounds very well. Recently though, it’s come to my awareness that I have unique connections with each pup.
I was in awe of Josie. She was our first and so she was way ahead of me on the nature of greyhound/human relationships. She patiently taught me much I needed to learn and, looking back, I realize some of what I learned was at her expense. I have some things to apologize for when we meet again. It was undoubtedly obvious to the veterans that I was a newby, and yet, Queen Josie was a benevolent teacher who never took advantage of my naiveté. When I got home in the evening she would kindly get off the couch and grace me with a wag or two but would then return to the couch. Any further interaction required that I go to her. She taught me that I needed to be worthy of a greyhound’s affection.
Buddy wanted only gentleness – well, that and pizza. He was an amazing ambassador, always ready with a friendly greeting. He tried to trust in the safety of the world but had a marked timid streak and frequently needed anchoring. There was no such thing as discipline in Buddy’s world. It would have crushed him, so it’s fortunately he was perfect. He taught me the power of gentleness.
Cissie and I had a strong spiritual connection from the very beginning. She picked me out of a crowd - walked right up and put her head in my lap at Kanab – before I knew she was the very dog we’d come to pick up. She was the one whose grief matched my own when Josie died. She was the one with whom I “sang” for healing and yet, she had an independent streak a mile wide. She was coy and elusive when it came to cuddling but was delighted when I pushed myself on her and pulled her into my lap to snuggle. From her I was reminded of the indomitable nature of Spirit.
And then there was Aero. Physically, he was a wreck, but true to his nickname (Red Skelton) he was the ultimate canine comedian and wished only to bring joy to all he met. Nothing pleased him more than to hear laughter that he’d elicited. It made him positively glow. He taught me the wealth to be found in laughter.
Frosty was the Dutchess. She never sought to rule in any obvious way but both Tory and Sadie (the cat) discovered it was a bad idea to get in her face. She was so much “bigger” than her physical being suggested. Since her departure, the magnitude of her “presence” is even more obvious, reminding me to celebrate each moment as if it were your last.
Tory has both pannus and epilepsy so I’m likely more protective of her. Some might even say servile. I think it’s really the chicken or the egg question, but I suppose it’s possible I’ve created the demanding little princess that she is. If she decides it’s cookie time, she simply marches right up and barks at me. I sigh dramatically and fetch one for her, but one blip in her aura puts me on high alert. I’m well aware that her life may not be a long one. She makes me content to serve.
And Arlo. What a dufus! He’s a combination of Buddy’s sweet spirit, Aero’s humor and his own penchant for juvenile delinquency. But he’s not without a conscience. When we come home at the end of the work day to find him sheepishly watching us from his bed in the corner, we never have to look far to find what he’s been up to. What do you do with a charming imp who continues to break the rules but who then puts himself in time out? And I wonder if it’s that same charm that sways me to allow him to put his front feet on my shoulders for hugs twice a day? That certainly would not have been allowed 10 years ago but then, come to think of it, we’ve had no other greykids who asked. From Arlo I get many, many opportunities to practice patience.
Each pup' needs are different. Each has unique ways to enrich my life. Each shapes the human/hound connection to suit them. Would that I can be a student as enlighted by the lessons as my four footed teachers are sincere in their offerings – and their love.
I was in awe of Josie. She was our first and so she was way ahead of me on the nature of greyhound/human relationships. She patiently taught me much I needed to learn and, looking back, I realize some of what I learned was at her expense. I have some things to apologize for when we meet again. It was undoubtedly obvious to the veterans that I was a newby, and yet, Queen Josie was a benevolent teacher who never took advantage of my naiveté. When I got home in the evening she would kindly get off the couch and grace me with a wag or two but would then return to the couch. Any further interaction required that I go to her. She taught me that I needed to be worthy of a greyhound’s affection.
Buddy wanted only gentleness – well, that and pizza. He was an amazing ambassador, always ready with a friendly greeting. He tried to trust in the safety of the world but had a marked timid streak and frequently needed anchoring. There was no such thing as discipline in Buddy’s world. It would have crushed him, so it’s fortunately he was perfect. He taught me the power of gentleness.
Cissie and I had a strong spiritual connection from the very beginning. She picked me out of a crowd - walked right up and put her head in my lap at Kanab – before I knew she was the very dog we’d come to pick up. She was the one whose grief matched my own when Josie died. She was the one with whom I “sang” for healing and yet, she had an independent streak a mile wide. She was coy and elusive when it came to cuddling but was delighted when I pushed myself on her and pulled her into my lap to snuggle. From her I was reminded of the indomitable nature of Spirit.
And then there was Aero. Physically, he was a wreck, but true to his nickname (Red Skelton) he was the ultimate canine comedian and wished only to bring joy to all he met. Nothing pleased him more than to hear laughter that he’d elicited. It made him positively glow. He taught me the wealth to be found in laughter.
Frosty was the Dutchess. She never sought to rule in any obvious way but both Tory and Sadie (the cat) discovered it was a bad idea to get in her face. She was so much “bigger” than her physical being suggested. Since her departure, the magnitude of her “presence” is even more obvious, reminding me to celebrate each moment as if it were your last.
Tory has both pannus and epilepsy so I’m likely more protective of her. Some might even say servile. I think it’s really the chicken or the egg question, but I suppose it’s possible I’ve created the demanding little princess that she is. If she decides it’s cookie time, she simply marches right up and barks at me. I sigh dramatically and fetch one for her, but one blip in her aura puts me on high alert. I’m well aware that her life may not be a long one. She makes me content to serve.
And Arlo. What a dufus! He’s a combination of Buddy’s sweet spirit, Aero’s humor and his own penchant for juvenile delinquency. But he’s not without a conscience. When we come home at the end of the work day to find him sheepishly watching us from his bed in the corner, we never have to look far to find what he’s been up to. What do you do with a charming imp who continues to break the rules but who then puts himself in time out? And I wonder if it’s that same charm that sways me to allow him to put his front feet on my shoulders for hugs twice a day? That certainly would not have been allowed 10 years ago but then, come to think of it, we’ve had no other greykids who asked. From Arlo I get many, many opportunities to practice patience.
Each pup' needs are different. Each has unique ways to enrich my life. Each shapes the human/hound connection to suit them. Would that I can be a student as enlighted by the lessons as my four footed teachers are sincere in their offerings – and their love.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Frosty Remembered
Frosty’s song – sung to the tune of Teddy Bears' Picnic:
The lovely lady named Silver Frost
Is charming beyond compare.
With dappled fur, and a fine physique
And countenance, oh so rare.
Her Irish smile will sure make you grin
T’will elevate the mood that you’re in.
My elegant pearl, my beautiful girl, my Frosty
My elegant pearl, my silly old girl, my Frosty.
Frosty visibly brightened when I sang it for her. She knew it was all about her and she loved it. I still hum it a lot but it’s harder with the lump in my throat.
We assisted our elegant old girl to the Rainbow Bridge last Saturday - because that’s part of the bargain.
When Brent and I adopt hounds we promise them comfort and safety and lots of love. Freedom from pain, trauma and suffering is also part of the deal. Thus we made the decision to release her last Saturday, just two week after her cancer diagnosis was confirmed. Her frailty was more and more evident with each passing day, her tumors were visibly larger, the risk of a traumatic event loomed large and it was clearly time to honor the heart breaking part of the promise.
It was a peaceful departure for her. We had pancakes, her favorite breakfast, and then we spent an hour on the deck in the sun together. Her final ride in the car was just as joyful for her as all the others had been. Her vet, Dr. Joe, is a wonderful man she knew and trusted. She was lying comfortably on a soft cushion, Brent and I touching her, crooning our deep gratitude for the 4 short years we had together.
We felt the vastness of her absence the moment her heart stopped. It seemed our own hearts paused companionably for a few moments to accompany her and then took up their rhythm again once she was safely across. Now we are left to reconfigure the balance of our family with our beautiful memories of Frosty and all she taught us.
Thank you, Frosty, for insisting that you were mine and persistently demanding to be included on that Colorado haul. Thank you for your beautiful smile that greeted us with each new day. Thank you for the snuggles on the couch and your clear expectation that the spot right next to Brent was for you and his lap was exclusively yours.
Thank you for the delightful games of tag around the island in the kitchen ; for your deep throated bark that told me the game was on; for your silly puppy romp and yip when you saw my car turning in the driveway; for the secrets that only you and I shared.
Thank you, too, dear Dutchess, for being such a fine ambassador for your breed. Many hounds now have families of their own, thanks to those huge brown eyes that drew people to you like a magnet, that made them look really close, that made them long for your kind of love in their lives.
The sweet bye and bye will be even sweeter knowing you are there.
P.S. Oh yes, and thanks for only squeaking the cat, and not eating her, that time she dared you to catch her - and you did.
The lovely lady named Silver Frost
Is charming beyond compare.
With dappled fur, and a fine physique
And countenance, oh so rare.
Her Irish smile will sure make you grin
T’will elevate the mood that you’re in.
My elegant pearl, my beautiful girl, my Frosty
My elegant pearl, my silly old girl, my Frosty.
Frosty visibly brightened when I sang it for her. She knew it was all about her and she loved it. I still hum it a lot but it’s harder with the lump in my throat.
We assisted our elegant old girl to the Rainbow Bridge last Saturday - because that’s part of the bargain.
When Brent and I adopt hounds we promise them comfort and safety and lots of love. Freedom from pain, trauma and suffering is also part of the deal. Thus we made the decision to release her last Saturday, just two week after her cancer diagnosis was confirmed. Her frailty was more and more evident with each passing day, her tumors were visibly larger, the risk of a traumatic event loomed large and it was clearly time to honor the heart breaking part of the promise.
It was a peaceful departure for her. We had pancakes, her favorite breakfast, and then we spent an hour on the deck in the sun together. Her final ride in the car was just as joyful for her as all the others had been. Her vet, Dr. Joe, is a wonderful man she knew and trusted. She was lying comfortably on a soft cushion, Brent and I touching her, crooning our deep gratitude for the 4 short years we had together.
We felt the vastness of her absence the moment her heart stopped. It seemed our own hearts paused companionably for a few moments to accompany her and then took up their rhythm again once she was safely across. Now we are left to reconfigure the balance of our family with our beautiful memories of Frosty and all she taught us.
Thank you, Frosty, for insisting that you were mine and persistently demanding to be included on that Colorado haul. Thank you for your beautiful smile that greeted us with each new day. Thank you for the snuggles on the couch and your clear expectation that the spot right next to Brent was for you and his lap was exclusively yours.
Thank you for the delightful games of tag around the island in the kitchen ; for your deep throated bark that told me the game was on; for your silly puppy romp and yip when you saw my car turning in the driveway; for the secrets that only you and I shared.
Thank you, too, dear Dutchess, for being such a fine ambassador for your breed. Many hounds now have families of their own, thanks to those huge brown eyes that drew people to you like a magnet, that made them look really close, that made them long for your kind of love in their lives.
The sweet bye and bye will be even sweeter knowing you are there.
P.S. Oh yes, and thanks for only squeaking the cat, and not eating her, that time she dared you to catch her - and you did.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Back Home Again
Those of you also following Joni's blog - http://hotchakennels.blogspot.com/ - know where I've been for the past few weeks. In short, I've been preparing for, enjoying and recovering from the best trip imaginable for those of us smitten by greyhounds.
I've never in my life laughed as much as Carol, Joni and I did on our adventure. It was the trip of a lifetime.
We visited 5 greyhound farms, two adoption kennels, the Greyhound Hall of Fame, the schooling track in Abilene - the busiest track in the world, and the NGA. We met so many wonderful people, including gh owners, trainers, track owners and managers. We spent three days each with Heather Weir (at Almost Home for Hounds in Nunn, Colorado) and Teddy Palmer (at Halfway Home for Hounds in Tulsa, OK). We were all like little sponges, soaking up the farming and training processes, the owners' and trainers' stories, and the greyhound love from the tiny ones we could feel wiggling in their mom's tummy (due to be born within the week) to the many beautiful seniors we met. And we took many new ideas away with us from the adoption kennels.
The one constant was the gracious manner in which we were welcomed everywhere we went. Nobody sighed or rolled their eyes as we asked question after question. Frankly, the only sign of impatience we encountered came from TheTalentedMr.Ripley, the four footed host at the Greyhound Hall of Fame - and that was only because Joni walked into the lobby armed with his favorite treat in the world - twinkies. He gratefully accepted her gift and then sauntered back to his throne.
After twelve days and 4200 miles, we returned home exhausted but still grinning and there are already rumors afoot about next year's adventure. I can hardly wait.
In the meantme there's lots of work to do finding good homes for the 8 hounds who returned with us and the four who arrived from OK while we were gone. It's hard work - and it never happens as quickly as we'd like - but each hound is precious and will be thoughtfully placed in the best home we can find.
I've never in my life laughed as much as Carol, Joni and I did on our adventure. It was the trip of a lifetime.
We visited 5 greyhound farms, two adoption kennels, the Greyhound Hall of Fame, the schooling track in Abilene - the busiest track in the world, and the NGA. We met so many wonderful people, including gh owners, trainers, track owners and managers. We spent three days each with Heather Weir (at Almost Home for Hounds in Nunn, Colorado) and Teddy Palmer (at Halfway Home for Hounds in Tulsa, OK). We were all like little sponges, soaking up the farming and training processes, the owners' and trainers' stories, and the greyhound love from the tiny ones we could feel wiggling in their mom's tummy (due to be born within the week) to the many beautiful seniors we met. And we took many new ideas away with us from the adoption kennels.
The one constant was the gracious manner in which we were welcomed everywhere we went. Nobody sighed or rolled their eyes as we asked question after question. Frankly, the only sign of impatience we encountered came from TheTalentedMr.Ripley, the four footed host at the Greyhound Hall of Fame - and that was only because Joni walked into the lobby armed with his favorite treat in the world - twinkies. He gratefully accepted her gift and then sauntered back to his throne.
After twelve days and 4200 miles, we returned home exhausted but still grinning and there are already rumors afoot about next year's adventure. I can hardly wait.
In the meantme there's lots of work to do finding good homes for the 8 hounds who returned with us and the four who arrived from OK while we were gone. It's hard work - and it never happens as quickly as we'd like - but each hound is precious and will be thoughtfully placed in the best home we can find.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Lone Goose
The Lone Goose is weighing heavily on my heart. He shows up each evening all by himself and slowly swims up one side of the river and down the other and then up into the backwater on the far side. That area is rich with nesting sites that are calling to goose couples now. It’s mating time and his head turns from side to side, searching. But unlike the other seasons, she’s not here to meet him.
I’ve chastised myself for anthropomorphizing. But in my heart I know he’s lost his mate and I ache for him every evening when I see him finally give up and leave, alone. I know he’ll be back again tomorrow. Geese mate for life and they are so faithful. They will occasionally pick a second mate if the unthinkable happens and I fervently hope the Lone Goose will.
We’ve been here on River’s Edge through three nesting seasons now. We watch the families, we count the goslings. We hurt when their numbers diminish from one 24 hour period to the next. We think of them as “our goslings”. We cheer as they learn to walk and we’re proud when their down is replaced by their beautiful flight feathers and they become less distinguishable from their parents. We try not to dwell upon it when hunting season comes and weekend after weekend we are awakened at dawn by the shotgun blasts.
I grew up in a hunting family and I have no issue with folks who love to hunt; well, except for those who are hunting only for trophies (but that’s a different topic). My folks were never happier then when they were shivering in a duck blind in the fog somewhere in South Carolina or Washington, or when they were tramping through wheat fields hoping to flush out an upland game bird in Wisconsin. They walked in unison, they needed no words, and they knew they could depend upon each another. They were mates for life and they were so fortunate to have 50 years together.
When my father died, my mother was the Lone Goose. She was so lost without him. That broke my heart too. Dad had to die. He was far too debilitated after his stroke to be happy inside himself and neither Mom nor I asked it of him. Still, I was totally unprepared for my Mother’s desperate aloneness, and for my inability to help her after she lost her life mate. Oh, she coped alright, and she put on a brave face most of the time but there was no way she could hide her aching heart from me, her only child. She died six years after Dad, fully ready to go and delighted about their upcoming reunion. I combined their ashes in one urn as they’d asked and buried them together. I found a lovely snow globe with a pair of elegant white swans inside and let it inspire me to write their joint eulogy about life and love, about commitment and forever.
Now a Lone Goose is back in my life and the heartache is fresh again. I deeply miss my mom as I grieve for him. I walk over to the shelf in my living room and pick up the beautiful snow globe with the elegant white swans and I shake it. Though I know order will be restored as soon as the snow settles, the globe clearly demonstrates to me the disorientation of stormy times as I peer into the globe and, for a time, lose sight of the pair.
Perhaps tomorrow the Lone Goose will come accompanied and peace will be restored in his heart and mine.
I’ve chastised myself for anthropomorphizing. But in my heart I know he’s lost his mate and I ache for him every evening when I see him finally give up and leave, alone. I know he’ll be back again tomorrow. Geese mate for life and they are so faithful. They will occasionally pick a second mate if the unthinkable happens and I fervently hope the Lone Goose will.
We’ve been here on River’s Edge through three nesting seasons now. We watch the families, we count the goslings. We hurt when their numbers diminish from one 24 hour period to the next. We think of them as “our goslings”. We cheer as they learn to walk and we’re proud when their down is replaced by their beautiful flight feathers and they become less distinguishable from their parents. We try not to dwell upon it when hunting season comes and weekend after weekend we are awakened at dawn by the shotgun blasts.
I grew up in a hunting family and I have no issue with folks who love to hunt; well, except for those who are hunting only for trophies (but that’s a different topic). My folks were never happier then when they were shivering in a duck blind in the fog somewhere in South Carolina or Washington, or when they were tramping through wheat fields hoping to flush out an upland game bird in Wisconsin. They walked in unison, they needed no words, and they knew they could depend upon each another. They were mates for life and they were so fortunate to have 50 years together.
When my father died, my mother was the Lone Goose. She was so lost without him. That broke my heart too. Dad had to die. He was far too debilitated after his stroke to be happy inside himself and neither Mom nor I asked it of him. Still, I was totally unprepared for my Mother’s desperate aloneness, and for my inability to help her after she lost her life mate. Oh, she coped alright, and she put on a brave face most of the time but there was no way she could hide her aching heart from me, her only child. She died six years after Dad, fully ready to go and delighted about their upcoming reunion. I combined their ashes in one urn as they’d asked and buried them together. I found a lovely snow globe with a pair of elegant white swans inside and let it inspire me to write their joint eulogy about life and love, about commitment and forever.
Now a Lone Goose is back in my life and the heartache is fresh again. I deeply miss my mom as I grieve for him. I walk over to the shelf in my living room and pick up the beautiful snow globe with the elegant white swans and I shake it. Though I know order will be restored as soon as the snow settles, the globe clearly demonstrates to me the disorientation of stormy times as I peer into the globe and, for a time, lose sight of the pair.
Perhaps tomorrow the Lone Goose will come accompanied and peace will be restored in his heart and mine.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Happy Birthday, Frosty
Happy Birthday to the Dutchess Y
Our lovely Irish lass, Frosty (registered: Silverfrost) has turned 13!
Back in 1995, her American born father, Chet, went to Ireland to meet the perfect Irish lass. Her mother, Adage, fit the bill perfectly and on March 10, 1996, Silverfrost was born, a vibrant and beautiful member in a litter of 9.
As a youngster, Frosty came to the U.S. and began her racing career. Her records shows she began racing June 6, 1998 in Corpus Christi, Texas, running every season but one until May 2001 when she retired to create her own lineage of racers in July 2001, March 2002 and February 2004.
Frosty retired again at age 9 and changed her name to ours.
Three of her 19 kids "stopped by" to wish her a joyful day ...
Sky Diamond (girl, July 2001, daddy Gable Dodge)
American Design (girl, March 2002, daddy Rapido Rambo)
Flight Leader (boy, July 2001, daddy Gable Dodge) 
Jack Frost (boy, February 2004, daddy Gable Oscar)Besides being an undoubtedly gracious mother, Frosty is a canine miracle. She sees all, from flowers to stars and at such times, her mantle of sovereign mystery gives way to unabashed wonder at the world and her eyes light up as if to say "Wow! Did you see THAT"?
We are, indeed, pleased and proud to have her in our family.
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