About a Dog

Once upon a time, there was a Dog. The Dog didn’t have the best beginning. When he was just a puppy, the Dog Catcher found the Dog and took him to live in a shelter. One day, a family got in their car and drove a long, long way, just to see the Dog. They had heard a lot about the Dog from many other people, and they believed that this Dog would be just the right dog to join their family. When they met him, they petted him, and ruffled his ears, and told him they loved him already. It didn’t matter to them where he came from. It didn’t even matter that some people referred to him as a Stray. The family saw way, way beyond that. To them, he was a Special Dog. They decided to take him home. They believed that this Dog would be just the right dog to join their family.

The family took very good care of the Dog, and as he grew, it was clear he was anything but average. Just as they had suspected, he was Special--and it almost seemed like the more they cared for him, the more Special he got.

The family always made sure the Special Dog had all the food and water he needed to stay healthy. Some days he had special treats—bones and fresh fruit and vegetables, (which, strangely enough, were his favorite.) When his family took him on walks in his new neighborhood , his coat shone and his teeth gleamed. They petted him and ruffled his ears and told him they loved him. People always commented on what a Good-Looking Dog he was.

He also had a lovely Backyard to play in. There was a huge, leafy tree to bark up, and plenty of squirrels and birds and cats to chase through the other trees. The Dog believed he owned the Backyard and he patrolled it proudly to keep his family safe. The family watched the Special Dog grow up. They loved him with all their heart and gave him everything he needed to be happy and loved.

One day, something terrible happened. Very early in the morning, when the Special Dog was just waking up, the snow fell and the wind blew and he heard a huge cracking sound in His Backyard. He wanted to go investigate, but his family called him back in the house. The Special Dog was very confused. Usually the family let him go out any time he wanted to. Why was the family keeping him from His Backyard? Just then, he heard another c-r-a-a-c-k and his big huge tree—the favorite tree he barked up-- split right down the middle like a stalk of celery.

The Special Dog was stunned. There was a glass door in the back of his house, that the family always used to let him out into His Backyard. He would always sit at the door patiently and wait for them to open it. But, now, all he could see out the glass was a huge forest of branches. The door wouldn’t open anymore. His Backyard was gone.

The Special Dog panicked. He cried and he whined and jumped, but no matter how many times he motioned for his family to open his door, it stayed locked. His Backyard was gone and he was trapped in the house.

A little while later, the family led the Special Dog across the house and into another room. It was a room that the Special Dog didn’t go into much, because THE CAT lived there. THE CAT stayed in a separate part of the house because he didn’t think the Dog was all that Special. The Special Dog never really understood this, but he accepted it all the same.

The Special Dog saw another glass door in THE CAT’S room, but it didn’t look anything like his door. Of course, he knew it couldn’t lead to His Backyard, because, it looked completely different. All he could see outside were branches from the big tree and a small patch of grass. The family could open this door, though and they motioned for the Special Dog to go outside.

The family tried many things. They talked to the Special Dog nicely and petted him. They pulled on his collar. They offered him treats. But, there was no way the Special Dog was going out that door. Finally, they got the Special Dog’s leash and hooked it to his collar. They pulled gently on the leash till they got him just outside the door. He stood out on the cement patio, sniffed the tiniest edge of the grass and then ran back inside.

The Special Dog searched and searched for His Own Backyard, but it was not to be found. He went back to his old door and cried and whimpered and whined and looked at his family. But there was nothing to be seen but a forest of branches. The family kept trying to take him back to the other glass door. They would open it and try over and over to coax him outside. “Go out and play, you Crazy Dog!” they said. But, there was no way he was venturing out into those tree branches and that little spot of grass. If only he could find His Backyard. Then, everything would be okay.

“You are going to have to go potty, sometime!” the family said.

The Special Dog didn’t understand any of the words except “potty,” He agreed that might be a good idea, but he wasn’t taking any chances. This time, when they let him out the other glass door he ran as fast as he could to the very edge of the grass, went potty and ran back inside.

It wasn’t His Backyard, but he certainly felt better.

That week, the days dragged on and the routine was the same. The Special Dog would stand at his back door and cry. The family would lead him to the other glass door and try to encourage him to go outside. Except for going potty once in a while at the edge of the grass, the Special Dog refused to go any farther. There was no playing. No more chasing squirrels, no more harassing cats on the fence, no more running through his back yard on patrol. It was all gone. Where had the family taken His Backyard? How could they be so mean to him? Why wouldn’t they bring it back? He would sit for hours staring out one door or the other. One wouldn’t open and the one that did, didn’t lead to His Backyard. It was a different life now.

Of course, some things were still the same. The family always fed him on time, and gave him plenty of fresh water. They brushed his coat till it was glossy and they took him out on walks. They petted him and ruffled his ears and told him that they loved him. Strangely enough, they also always insisted on taking him back to that other glass door and trying to coax him outside.

But, of course he wouldn’t go out. If only they hadn’t taken away His Own Backyard. If only things could be the way they used to be.

A few days later, a strange man came to the house, with a loud, noisy stick. The stick made huge whirring noises that the Special Dog didn’t really like. He thought wistfully about the days when he would’ve chased someone with a stick like that right out of His Backyard. He could hear the noise, and sometime even see the stick, but there was no way he was going out the door. Because it wasn’t His Backyard. So, what was the point?

A strange thing happened while that man was there. The more noise the stick made, the more the forest of branches began to change. Maybe it was shifting or maybe it wasn’t. The Special Dog couldn’t be certain, but, it did get his attention. It wasn’t like having His Backyard, of course, but it least it broke up the boredom.

The next morning, the Special Dog woke up and the family gave him his water and his breakfast like they always did. They petted him and they ruffled his ears like they always did. They told him they loved him, like they always did. Then, he went to sit at his back door--like he always did.

And then, something changed.

Because, when the Special Dog looked out the back door, it was back. His Backyard was BACK! This time the family slid open his own back door and he shot outside like a bullet. He ran round and round and round His Backyard. He came back to the family and licked them and then ran back outside again. He immediately set about sniffing all over the place. Yes, it seemed to smell like His Backyard. It did look a little bit different though. His favorite tree was gone, there was a huge pile of fat logs on the side of the fence and there was sawdust and little bits of branches everywhere he looked. But, the birds and the squirrels were out in the other trees, and everything else was just like he left it. Now, he could finally run and play again! His Backyard had returned. His life could go back to being the way it always was.

From the yard, the Special Dog looked back at his family standing by the door. Crazy Family! Why had they taken His Backyard away? Didn’t they know how much he needed it? Imagine trying to get him to go out that other door to the other place! How ridiculous they were! He was glad they had come to their senses, but he was still confused. Why change things when it was so much better to just leave them the same? To think of all those days he’d been trapped in the house without His Backyard. For what? He was proud he had held out and refused to step out into that other place. It was so much better to stay right where he was, and cry and whimper and whine and stare at his family for days until things returned to normal. Surely they could see that now! He had hated being in the house all that time, but he knew he had been right all along and that was very, very important to him.

Sometimes that’s very important to me too. But, I guess I shouldn’t read too much into this.

It’s just a story about a dog.

A Christmas Gift from Our House to Yours

In the spirit of double-dipping, I just posted this on Facebook as well. It's one of our all time favorite Christmas treats and very fun to bake with kids!

Biscotti recipe from Sharon McCormick's Italian Nonni----but, if you make this, you have to call it Bee-SKO-tee---not Bih-SCOTTIE!
Mix together: 2 cups sugar, 1 cup melted butter, 1/4 cup anise seed, 2T water, 1 tsp almond extract, 2 tsp. vanilla and six beaten eggs. Add 5 1/2 cups of flour, 1 T. baking powder, and 2 cups coarsely chopped almonds, all in small batches to help make mixing easy. Mix well with wooden spoon, getting all flour from sides of the bowl. Cover with saran wrap and refrigerate 3 hours.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spray 2-3 cookie sheets with Pam or oil. Roll the dough into the shape of long, fat playdough snakes OR long mole tunnels--depending on how you visualize...They need to be about 2 inches wide, and the length of the baking sheet. Bake one snake/tunnel thing per cookie sheet until slightly golden and firm to the touch (about 22 minutes.) Let the pans cool 30 minutes.

Cut snake/tunnel things diagonally into 1/2" slices. (You know---into the shape of a biscotti!) Place the slices back on the pans, cut side down. Bake for three minutes, then turn each piece over and bake another 3 minutes on the other side. Cool, store and eat MANY.

Answers to FAQ I know you are going to come up with:
1. Yes, only Americans say "Bih-SCOTTIE."
2. Anise seed is sold everwhere, it's with the other spices.
3. Yes they HAVE to be baked twice, or they are not real biscotti
4. No, I can't give you a better description than playdough snakes and mole tunnels---it's an old family recipe, you either get it or you don't (!)
5. When you go through the twice-baking thing, PAY ATTENTION AND CHECK OFTEN....they burn easily at this stage, which is a real drag after all your hard work.
6. Ever wonder what Heaven smells like? You'll know when these start baking! They say they keep for a long time, but we've never had them in our kitchen long enough to find out.

This is one of our Christmas traditions---Enjoy!!!!
P.s. I consider it an abomination to dip these in chocolate, or add frou-frou ingredients like cranberry orange tofu slices.....but, hey, suit yourselves--just don't tell me about it :)

Mail Call

In the end of November, everything still feels possible. I just might write and mail Christmas cards this year, instead of scribbling out a half-dozen notes at the last minute and tucking them in with the presents.

I'm old enough to remember what a thrill it was to get stacks of Christmas Cards in the mail every December. My mother took all the ones we received and carefully attached them to a thick ribbon that framed one of the living room doors. If so many cards came that we had to employ a second door before Christmas Day, it was just further proof to the world of how many new friends we had acquired in the last 12-months.

The truth was, you could learn a lot of news about a family just by the signature on the cards---who was added, or who was left out. Someone died? Someone got married? If they got a puppy or a kitten--it was all included in the pictures on those cards. I remember being puzzled at the ones that arrived with names I didn't recognize--old friends of my parents that only wrote that one faithful note, once a year. My favorites were the pre-printed ones: "From the Smith Family." For some reason, those seemed like they came straight from the lap of luxury--outdone only by those that had printed names AND embossed return addresses. (I'd add that my other favorites were the ones whose covers shined with sparkly glitter that always ended up on my hands, but I guess that would really date me...)

It's funny how much care people took to send those greetings every year. As a kid, I remember my mom would pay me to handwrite ours. (She always said it was because she had bad penmanship, but as I got old enough to know what "Christmas Rush" meant, I figured it out.) I remember days of mailing fruitcakes to my cousin fighting in Vietnam,(would have made excellent weapons if they ran low,) and packages with knitted scarves to my relatives across country. Of course, postage was only four to five cents per card, back then, but it wasn't really about the money, even though we say it is. What it was really was about, was the time.

This year, I'll try again to write and mail Christmas Cards. Sure, I can e-mail, twitter, skype and IM my greetings in seconds, for free, no less. But it never seems the same. There's just something about tearing open that envelope---especially when the glitter sprinkles out.

790 and not a lurker in sight

I'm excited that my blog is about to turnover to the big 800. That tells me someone is out there reading. But, who? I'll never know. The counter says you exist, but I haven't gotten a comment in eons. Stop by and say hello sometime :)

The Red Trees Come in November

It's funny, I looked back at my last post and couldn't figure out why I titled it what I did. Then I remembered: October 15th is the day we moved to the PNW! We just celebrated our 11th year here, and I am never more grateful for our move than in the Autumn.
The last few years we've gotten a little cheated out of our Autumn by the early rain. Last October, it was already coming down in buckets, and that doesn't make for much of a fall display. When I was in Vermont last year, I kept thinking: why do they have so many red trees and we just have yellow and orange?? (As IF I had a right to complain...) This year, the rain has really held off and we've had some AMAZING days for picture taking and leaf-peeping (as they say back East,) And this year, I remembered: we DO have red trees--but only when the rains hold off till November!

Our daughter has been home with us this fall, doing some recovery work from a car accident. I almost feel guilty enjoying her so much since she's not here for a great reason. Still, I've had such a wonderful time enjoying the Autumn with her.
We've had an amazing time doing all the things we love best: picking pumpkins, harvesting apples and taking LOTS of pictures. This year, we've also gotten heavy into knitting--a new adventure for us both that helps her relax and calm down. Here are a couple of fun shots from around town.

The best day of the year

The Eagle has flown--and landed quite nicely

To those of you who have been wondering about, and praying for, my youngest eagle: I just want to report that we took him off to school Sunday and he (for now,) is a very happy boy.

I say "for now" because, I'll admit, the last year has made me tentative. Tentative and a bit afraid. He had such a difficult time. He was so sick, and so unhappy, and so disappointed that his dreams of going back East ended the way they did.

But God is good. Even if His goodness sometimes involves a lot of pain.

The boy is not completely well, but he has grown so much in the last year, and he is ready for this next step.

Before he left, I told him over and over to remember that there is no "perfect." There's only good and better.

Right now, Square One is good. Very, very good.

Thank you God. And thank you all for praying.