This is why we love dogs:
- they never, ever give up on you
- sincere and unbridled enthusiasm
- impossible to overestimate
- inspiration in the face of adversity.
*typo corrected
You've stumbled across my official website and landed on the front page of my weblog.
My name is Rosina Lippi. I'm a former academic and tenured university professor, writing full time since 2000. Under the pen name Sara Donati I am the author of the Wilderness series, six historical novels that follow the fortunes of a group of families living in upstate New York from about 1792-1825. A new series based on later generations of the same families was launched September 1, 2015 with The Gilded Hour. The next volume in the new series, Where the Light Enters, was released in 2019.
Please see the pinned post for an overview of what you'll find on this weblog, and what has been moved to the wiki (including the FAQ page).
Black curly hair. Dark melted chocolate expressive eyes. Impossibly long eyelashes. Handsome, affectionate, joyful, smart. So who is he? Mr. Darcy, of course. Labradoodle, not human, but don’t bother to tell him. He wouldn’t believe you anyway.
He’s a scaredy dog when he hears something outside and can’t see it. Last night it was the deer in the yard. If he can see them, he just sits down and watches. Well, he does chase squirrels, rabbits, and birds. Hasn’t caught one yet.
What a great tribute and photo. It looks very professional, not the type of picture I could shoot. I envy people who have an artistic eye for detail.
Even a dog long gone can be a source of tremendous comfort, I think.
When I was a teenager, we had to leave our sixteen week old Irish Setter puppy with my grandparents to make a trip interstate after a friend died. It’s the stuff of family legend: that the dog went to my grandparents answering to “Kellie” and returned answering to “you bloody red b*stard of a dog!”. New name notwithstanding, Kellie and my grandfather formed a very close bond in that three week period. They used to sit up the back shed, sharing beer and peanuts, Kellie knocking the lit cigarette out of Pop’s hand whenever he lowered it, Pop cursing and lighting a new one, then slipping her another handful of peanuts. Towards the end of her life, Kellie found it hard to stand up comfortably…but til the day she died, my grandfather’s voice could rouse her to move in order to curl up again at his feet.
My grandfather passed a few weeks ago. Sometime in the hours before he died, when he was deep in coma, I asked him to give my red dog – beloved; long gone – a pat for me when he got upstairs. I have no doubt that within moments of his passing, Kellie bounced up to say hello to him again. And I draw great comfort from knowing that Pop would be tripping over her and cursing her with every other sentence…even as he made a permanent place for her at his side.
The girls here loved the videos and the photo. Lots of good discussion generated. We are a dog-free house due to allergies (and the lack of a fenced-in yard, and parents who are able to care for a pet like a child). We absolutely know a dog would become a member of the family, so we’re waiting for either older children (when do they arrive??) or a dog that walks and feeds itself. I’m afraid you may have shown that it’s really just the older children I’m waiting to meet…
Pam, with three little girls and working full time, I would be shocked if you did have a dog. Even Wonder Woman couldn’t handle that. I didn’t get a dog of my own until I was more than forty.
@meredith:
You know, I can see the two of them together, too.