Greetings, fellow writers and readers. As most of you have probably guessed, it is usually late Sunday night before I manage to write my challenge entry. Tonight is no different. Well, in a way it is. I could not access my internet service provider all day, until a few minutes ago. And...I am sitting here writing while our area is under a tornado watch. Hopefully I can get this article submitted before the bad weather arrives.
I do have a deep spiritual revelation to share with you at another time concerning an illustration that has appeared on my kitchen cabinet. It takes light reflection to see it. I don’t have time now to write in depth about it, but promise that I will. My life hasn’t been the same since, and the image remains.
So tonight I’ll just quickly share the news about a new addition to our family, all one pound, eight ounces of him.
If you have read my previous writings you have read about the death of my aging white Maltese, Franco.
When pets die, we miss them terribly. I was really missing Franco, and it showed.
So my son offered me the gift of a baby Chihuahua. The only thing, it wasn’t born yet! All I knew was that it probably would be chocolate colored with tan markings.
Well, to the web sites I go. I imagine I looked at twenty-five Chi sites. I wanted to see what my baby might look like. I have never owned a Chi thus I read many details on “care” sites too.
Then I visited the local Thrift Store. Several baby blankets ought to do. Oh, and a toy. Of all things, I bought a soft yellow lamb that plays a lullaby.
Next came preparations for paper training, and buying a crate.
The waiting began. I got anxious. Finally the puppies were born. More waiting.
I got a chance to speak with the breeder. She said, “ When I heard that your dog had died, I put you ahead of people on my waiting list. Which one do you want, a boy or a girl?”
“The runt” I replied, thinking that no one else would want it and it needed me. Later I discovered that’s the one most people want They think it will stay small.
The runt turned out to be a boy. I named him Petey.
He came to live with me at the age of four weeks, five days old, weighing one pound, eight ounces. The vet said he was very healthy.
I feed him Purina dry puppy food soaked in diluted goat’s milk. He also gets water, and extra goat’s milk.
My son called and asked, “How’s your puppy doing?”
“Great!” I told him. “I take just as good care of him as I did “preemie” you.”
Petey is now a fiesty, energetic six week old. Finally I’m beginning to get more sleep.
He and I have bonded well. I can’t imagine not having him now.
I have a full roll of film to get developed. It will be nice to look back at these pictures and see just how “light- weight” my little friend was in the beginning. And I’m already training him to be nearby when I’m sitting at the computer writing.
Why should the writing profession stay “the loneliest profession of all” as some say?
Not for me. I’ll have a light-weight by my side for many years to come.
How about you?
Copyright 2004 Martha J. Currington