Luna the Scientist

Apparently as I slept this morning, Marc fed the girls. Abbie gobbled hers quickly as usual, and Luna picked up a bite of hers and dumped it on the living room floor--again as usual. Luna was distracted from hers, though, and ran to the door barking, so Marc let her out to see what she was after. While she was outside, Abbie took the opportunity to steal the kibble Little Sister had left in the floor. After all, technically she's only been told not to steal what is in the bowl.

Having satisfied herself that she'd maintained the safety of her domain, Luna pranced into the house and headed straight to her erstwhile stolen kibble, only to look around as if to say, "What the hell?!" Then she decided to run a little experiment. She took one mouthful of food and dropped it in the living room floor and another and placed it behind the sofa. Then she walked around the corner and waited a while. Satisfying herself that she'd waited plenty of time, she came back and checked her bait. Again the perplexed look--they were both untouched. She sniffed around each pile of food, ate one, and retreated around the corner again to wait. After another short while, the food stayed where she'd put it, so she sniffed even more thoroughly this time to see if she could figure it out. Satisfying herself that she could not, she decided just to eat that food, too.

Little did she know her sneaky sister who is as deaf as a stone never knew she'd been set up. She was lying in the bedroom oblivious the whole time. Otherwise, she certainly would have been found out.

Two Years Later...

Two years ago today I was ditching sleep before work to drive a little over 60 miles to JLyn Shepherds in Middleburg, Florida to meet the girl who would become one of the loves of my life. Of course, at the time I didn't know that she would be my girl. Marc had made the decision this time to get another dog. He had made the decision to get a pup as opposed to an adult. He did the research and decided to get a shepherd. He had been the one to find the pup that no one else wanted. I had sat back trying to be detached and doing my best not to get excited about the possibility of another dog in our life. As things turned out, however, I was the only one who could go to meet her, who would have to make the final decision. (You and I both know there was NO way I was going to meet a puppy without bringing it home. lol) So she made the ride across Florida in my lap, calm and curled in a ball.

Those were quite possibly her last calm moments. She has run full tilt boogie since then. Her love of her soccer ball has only grown over the last year. She has begun to bargain with us, coming in from potty breaks after "just one toss" of the ball. She's become a master of jerky thievery, stealing no less than two pounds of venison jerky within days of my having made it. One container she retrieved from the bottom of a bag, having carefully removed the things on top of it and set them neatly aside. For a minute or two, I had to think about whether I had emptied the bag before I left. =D She's also begun to listen more and snuggle more and be more of an adult dog. She even managed to surprise us at the Fort Wilderness dog park, playing nicely with the other dogs, snapping only a little bit when a yellow lab went for her ball.

I just stare at her sometimes, or reach to rub her coat, and I am thankful for her, and I am thankful for her sister. I watch Abbie in her good days and her not-as-good. She was diagnosed with hypothyroidism a couple of months ago, and here lately there are days she's too nauseated to eat for a while, something with which this old gal has never had an issue. Every now and then, she's too sore even for our daily walks. Her hearing is failing, and she only hears loud noises these days. I hug her every chance I get, and I try to soak her in, appreciating every moment because I know the moments are drawing to a close in the next few years.

These girls bring me love beyond measure, and I hope I bring them even a small fraction of the joy they bring me.