I love this story that ran in Leah Garchik's column from today's San Francisco Chronicle...it's a beautiful example of embracing and celebrating all faiths, instead of trying to dilute them to the point of oblivion.
"Jon Levinson of San Carlos, who is Jewish, says that every winter, he and his wife host neighbors, most of them not Jewish, at a Hanukkah party. They serve traditional Jewish foods, light a menorah, play with dreidels. (Note to lovers of English: My spellcheck suggested that "druids" would be a good substitute for "dreidels.") This year, when one set of neighbors couldn't be there, the Levinsons sent them a plate of traditional jelly doughnuts and Hanukkah "gelt" (foil-wrapped chocolate).
The next day, the neighbors' 14-year-old son, Mark Bechtel, brought the treats to his religion class - where there's a daily prayer - at Sacred Heart High School. For that day's prayer, his teacher had the class recite the Hanukkah candle-lighting blessings in English."
Amen to that, with a Merry Christmas and chag sameach!
So there we were, me and Olivia, on a misty Sunday morning at Leo Ryan Park in Foster City, near a scenic lagoon to have our pictures taken.
Oh trust me, on this chilly winter day I would have much rather been at home, snuggled up on the sofa, reading the Sunday Chronicle and enjoying my morning latte. But I needed pictures of my girl, not just for future Pet Tales columns, but also for my annual Christmas card. When my manager Sharon, who happens to be a brilliant photographer, agreed to take pictures, I jumped at the opportunity.
But Olivia had other plans. She was excited, curious, a little nervous and extremely frisky. She had no interest in posing for pictures. How could a dog be expected to stand still when there were geese on the lawn, ducks in the lagoon and birds in the sky! Not to mention flirty squirrels, giggling children, ambitious joggers, and even two Standard Poodles, one black, the other white, both sporting hot-pink painted toenails.
And I expected Olivia to pose for pictures? What was I thinking?
Sharon's camera whirred nonstop, capturing Olivia's every move as she wiggled and squiggled, anxious to play, sniff and explore. This was so not the "catwalk" my girl had in mind. After two hours, Sharon and I agreed we'd probably gotten all we could from Olivia--in these foreign surroundings my playful pup was just too distracted to stand still for the camera. And so, we shrugged and called it a day.
But it turned out that amidst the hundreds of photos that Sharon took, there were several that captured Olivia. Her spunky spirit, affectionate nature, and--the pictures most meaningful to me--the bond that we share. Because that bond didn't come easy. It was a rocky road and initially I had my doubts, but today?
The proof is in the pudding--or in this case, pictures. I wouldn't trade my girl for the world.
There are columns to write and blogs to post and bills to pay, plus books to read for my two book clubs, ingredients to purchase for two different potluck dinners, not to mention the floor could use a good sweeping, thanks to Olivia's recent massive shedding, and I wouldn't need to buy new socks if I'd just take a minute to simply sew those teeny holes in the heels.
And oh yes, I still have holiday cards to address and presents to buy and decorations to hang, and I'm about to burst a blood vessel because good lord, Christmas is in less than three weeks and I've done nothing yet. Nothing!
So why did I--a fifty-something adult-- spend a precious evening watching "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer?"
Because growing up in the 60s, this Christmas classic was the TV highlight of the holiday season for me and my younger sister, Jenny. From the comfort of our bunk beds, we'd watch it on a tiny black and white TV our dad bought us. I remember how deliciously petrified we were of the scary-looking Bumble, and how frightened we were for Rudolph, Hermy and Yukon Cornelius when they drifted off in the dark on a chunk of ice to get away from the growling Bumble.
And 46-years later, I still get teary-eyed when a humbled Santa asks, "Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?" Or when the hopeless toys on the Island of Misfit Toys hear the jingle-jangle of Santa's sleigh and leap with joy when they realize he's finally coming for them.
When I phoned Jenny tonight to tell her that Rudolph was on, my brother-in-law answered the phone. "Oh yeah," he replied. "We've already watching it."
That's why everything else can wait. This was indeed an evening well-spent.
It was one year ago today that I entered the garage of Stu and Barbara Homer (who operate Golden State Greyhound Adoption) and met my new dog, Olivia.
The Homer's dark garage was brimming with double-stacked crates holding ex-racer hounds that were about to meet their new guardians and discover freedom after a lifetime of confinement. At the moment though, the dogs were unnaturally quiet. They had no idea of the wonders that awaited them in just a few hours. Instead, they appeared shell-shocked, having just left their Florida race track one week earlier to endure a 7-day cross-country ordeal in the back of a truck.
And there, among the dozens of dogs, I spotted my underweight little girl, her cage marked with her racing name, MamaLu. A striking red brindle, the 3-year old looked especially frightened and withdrawn. My heart melted. I couldn't wait to give her the home she deserved.
However, this didn't happen right away. That's because, as readers of this blog and my Pet Tales column know, Olivia's arrival coincided with the cancer diagnosis, three days later, of my other greyhound, Elvis. Instead of doting on my new dog, Olivia watched from the sidelines as I nursed Elvis through surgeries, sat with him through chemo, and rushed him to emergency to treat leaking incisions almost every single night for two months. It was a nightmare in the truest sense of the word. And a losing endeavor because three months later my beloved boy lost his battle.
But through my tears I realized there was still another life depending on me. Not just for food and shelter, but for the same love and devotion I had bestowed upon Elvis for nine years. I started seeing Olivia -- really seeing her-- for the first time and appreciating her unique spirit. Appreciating how lucky I was to have this dog help heal my grief-stricken heart.
Today, Olivia is affectionate, playful and giddy, every step she takes bouncing with paws of joy. She hates carrots, loves baths, sleeps with her eyes open, and has breath that smells like frogs. And she loves to snuggle, something I would have never risked doing with the stiff, wary, suspicious Olivia of one year ago. Today's dog makes satisfied little "ummmm" sounds as I rub her belly, neck and ears, and uses her needle nose to nudge me when I stop.
This is the home that Olivia deserved. The home I envisioned before life threw a monkey wrench in the works. Better late than never.
Happy Anniversary, sweet puppy.
Who says California doesn't enjoy the same vibrant colors of the east coast? Our burst of beauty just comes later in the season, as evidenced by this shot I took today on an early morning walk with Olivia on the Iron Horse Trail.
"How silently they tumble down,
and come to rest upon the ground.
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care.
Content to sleep, their work well done.
Colors gleaming in the sun."
~Elsie N. Brady
Ah, nice and refreshed after a few weeks off. Didn't do anything special, just took a little time off the computer and recharged the brain cells.
But while I was off, CBS was busy, sniffing around my Pet Tales column in the San Francisco Chronicle. They picked up a story I wrote on September 25 titled "Bet Puts Man and Horse on Healthy Course" and interviewed the subject, Sam DiLaura. CBS didn't credit Pet Tales (of course), but it's still an inspiring human interest story that played out nicely on the big screen.
Mark my words, this is a Disney or Lifetime movie in the works. I can just see it now: Bonnie Bedelia as the wife and Craig T. Nelson as the husband.
Check out the interview that ran on CBS!
Taking a much-needed snooze and recharging the creative juices.
Be sure to check back on November 21!
