Coincidence...I think not!

If you read my blog, then you know I love my four-legged creatures. Last week was extraordinarily difficult with the loss of my best friend, Josephine, and also a kitten, Buster - all on the same day. We were emotionally drained.
I immediately felt the need to save another life. At first, I thought that we would adopt another retired racing greyhound, and then Petfinder. com took over my world. There are almost 300,000 pets listed on petfinder in need of good homes. That number alone kept me up to all hours scouring the rescue groups for a pup who resembled Josephine.
Newt pointed out a little girl, whose name was Amy, of all things, and said that we must meet her. She had the Josie look for sure, and I cried when I saw her standing in front of PetSmart Sunday afternoon. There was no way that I was leaving without my dog. Before I knew it we were buying supplies, and Ava Jane (as we named her today) hopped into the back of the car next to Amber and they snuggled up for the ride home. Ava absolutely adores Amber and follows her all over the house. Ava had not been indoors at all until Sunday, and she is adapting well. We have some socialization issues to work on, but nothing that time and love won't fix. I'm reading up on my Caesar Millan to reinforce my pack leadership role :)
Check out her mug shot and see if we made a good match.
She is currently curled up at my feet as I type this - a position Queen Josephine would have been proud of. I cannot believe my girl is gone, but it helps to see a sweet girl who resembles her, and who has the potential to be a good dog too. No matter what, Ava has big paws to fill. I love you, my Jose.

My First Love

I am the proud momma of many children - human and otherwise. I am the only person I know who actually had two cats and a dog live with them at college. The cats came first and then moved in with various grandparents. When I found an apartment on a farm in my senior year, I knew a pup was in my future. My sister caught sight of a stray in the ditch one morning, and Josephine made her way into my life and into my heart. She was nine weeks old, wormy, with a crooked tail. She was perfect.
While at GA, she made fast friends with Sophie, a Great Pyranese pup. She won the Mutt Strutt contest out at Sandy Creek Nature Center. She attended a keg party and then passed out; visited all my roommates' homes over the weekends; went to the beach when Newt and I were having pre-wedding marriage counseling; and has been my right-hand shadow for the past nearly twelve years. Today my shadow is missing and the void is tremendous.
The cancer took her life in the blink of an eye. We did not know she was so sick. I know that she is whole again this afternoon, but I don't know that my heart will ever be.
I found this poem that someone sent me when our childhood dog, Allie, died nearly nine years ago. It's been hanging on our fridge since then, and I doubt that I have read it much since she died. Today I remembered it out of the blue.
Josephine, you were my first love, and there will never be another one like you. I am so glad that you were my dog.

God Bless Our Pets
They say memories are golden
Well, maybe that is true
I never wanted memories
I only wanted you
A million times I needed you
A million times I cried
If love alone could have saved you
You never would have died
In life I loved you dearly
In death I love you still
In my heart you hold a place
No one could ever fill
If tears could build a stairway
And heartaches make a lane
I'd walk the path to heaven
And bring you back again
Our family chain is broken
And nothing seems the same
But as God calls us
One by one
The chain will link again.

I love you, my Jose.

Please Pray

My sweet Josephine is very sick and is on fluids at the vet's office tonight. Please pray for her and pray for our family - I have had her since I was in college at UGA. She means the world to me.

Mudbugs

Don't pass out with surprise when you discover I've finally made a new post. I know it's been a while...
I write this morning about a Booker Family tradition. The Bookers are my mother's family, namely her brother Glenn, his wife, Debbie, and their two girls, Gracen and Ivy. For about six years, Glenn has been bringing crawfish to GA to celebrate various occasions - birthdays, first communions, Mother's Day. Glenn is the number one expert on anything New Orleans and Louisiana. It's in his blood and he rolls with it. "Laissez les bon temps rouler" are the (French) words he lives by. The rest of us would know that as "Let the good times roll." Some years we watch the Derby run between bites of beer and french bread. This year it was the Belmont. For my 30th birthday, my sister and her boyfriend flew in from Colorado to surprise me. It was cold and rainy and I'd found out one day earlier that I would not be drinking from the keg - Russell was on the way! For my mom's 60th birthday, we had a bonfire and twinkly lights from Uncle Glenn's camper to light up the night. I hope our neighbors enjoyed the jazz notes floating up and over the trees.
This year was simple. It was not planned (until Friday morning). We would gather at my mom's for food and drink. Uncle Glenn rode his motorcycle. The music was the same - Glenn tapes New Orleans radio stations when he is in town and plays them over and over again until he gets back to make more. The boil was a little different - peaches, strawberries, and kiwi were stuck between the corn, sausage, potatoes, onion and artichokes. The bugs were awesome, as usual. My only complaint about the whole process is the fact that I can't remove my contact lenses after eating crawfish. Your hands burn for about 12 hours after dipping them into the pile. Mine still smell this morning...
I have learned that there are moments that punctuate our lives and provide reference points for everything else.
The births of my children are obvious marks - family vacations, crawfish boils, speeding tickets...
It's been a while since we've visited the Big Easy. Three years for me, longer for Newt. We got engaged there. My children have never been. That's got to change. Uncle Glenn points his car west as much as possible, honing in on his personal Mecca several times a year. When he can't go, he has it shipped in in big styrofoam boxes. I owe him for reminding me that the spicy Mississippi flows right through my own blood too.