Is it too much?

Do I post to much about my dogs? I've probably asked this question before. But I can't help it. Two reasons: they are a huge part of our lives and they're just so darn cute!




It's funny, when people hear how many dogs we have they invariably ask two questions. "Do you live on a lot of land?" and "Do they all get along?" Well, no and yes. We have a small house with a decent sized yard in suburbia. No land really. And yes, for the most part, they all get along. They have their squabbles over who gets to go outside first and who gets mom's lap, etc. But when you put a Dingo, a Great Dane, two Chow mixes, a Pit Bull, a whole slew of Chihuahuas, two cats, and two humans together in one house, I'd say we get along very well.

See? How can I resist sharing these precious faces? I mean, really.

What I see...

Last weekend Tom was shooting some jewelry photos for me and, I guess, got bored with the jewelry and just started shooting random things around my studio. When I looked at them later it made me wonder - what do the things we surround ourselves with say about us?

I have lots of stuff in my studio that is not useful. It is simply there to make me smile or because maybe I have some sort of emotional attachment to it because of who gave it to me, or some odd association to someone or something. But seeing all of these photos together made me think: what if some stranger walked into my studio? Who would they think I am? It's like those emails you get that say "Pick your favorite 80's movie out of these 10 or choose your favorite desert out of these and the scroll down and see what personality matches - Angel Food Cake."

So, I picked Tom Selleck, Angela Lansbury, my friend's movie Left Field, dogs, Augustus McCray, Paulo Nutini, family photos, old albums, Raymond Burr, and Smurfs. What does that say about me? Go.

The Big Man

It's been a couple of months since I have posted a Preacher update and given the milestone we recently passed, I thought it would be a good time. June 16th marked two years since Preacher's first visit to the oncologist and his first round of chemo. Wow. It's hard to believe. It's hard to remember where I was mentally two years ago. I never would have thought that things would feel "normal", where he was concerned, ever again. But time passes and you get used to your new circumstances. I think even going through the chemo began to feel normal in the later months. And then when chemo was finished there were some pins and needles for awhile and then, slowly, you settle in and things just get, well, normal. Of course we've had our ups and downs. He's an almost 13 year old Great Dane after all, his body isn't what it used to be. His degenerative back issues have become our new battle. But after a round of injections to help regenerate some of that tired, old muscle, he's doing pretty well.

Every so often he has a bad day and it sends me into a tailspin of worry. I can be so reactionary. I've always thought that I will try to think about it like this: as long as my dog is having more good days than bad we're good. And Preacher has FAR more good days than bad. But when a bad day happens it terrifies me that the next will be bad, and the next. But then he pops off the couch the next morning barking at me like "Where's my breakfast?!", I breathe a gigantic sigh of relief and we move on. So that's life right now. It's good.

time of year for new work

This is that time of year where you just cannot predict the work you're gonna have. One week I'll be up to my earlobes in work and in a panic and the next week - nothin'. While I would like to be in over my head all the time, the good thing about this time of year is I get to experiment with new ideas that have been floating around. So here's a little peek at what I've been up to.

Good Gravy Marie!

I cannot believe it's been over a month since I've been over here. I didn't fall off the face of the earth but things have been a little nutty. I could list everything that's been going on but it would make me feel a little sea sick, so let's skip that. Every time I sat down here to write I would get overwhelmed by how behind I was and I'd abandon the whole thing. Tonight it occurred to me - I don't HAVE to recap everything. It is quite possible that people just might not care! And that thought came as a huge relief to me!

Two things I do want to share: The foster dog we rescued and have already adopted out and the foster that we rescued and still have.

Meet Kit Pistol.

So, after nearly 12 years of Blue Dog my best friend Kim has decided that she has, in her words "found her calling in life."! So we were going down to the shelter to find a foster for HER! And even though I thought I had made it out of there with out a dog, this little one was haunting me. She had an adopter, but something about her was bugging me so I called the shelter just to check on her and sure enough - the adopter had fallen through and she was scheduled to be euthanized that evening. "Can you get here by five?"

The crazy thing is, within ten minutes of having her posted on the Blue Dog website I had an email. And within a couple of days I had a great application. So this little doll already has a happy ending - living with her new family in South Austin!

Next. Meet Sgt. Pepper aka Baby.

Another trip to the shelter with a friend. This time my friend Pat asked me to join her for Bloody Mary's and then a visit to the local shelter! Win Win. But before I left the house Tom said "Don't bring home a dog, we don't need another foster." I agreed and had every intention of keeping my promise. Pat found a incredible dog whose story I will have to share here later...but-in-the-mean-time-you-can-meet-her-here...because it's so tragic and yet you'd never know because dogs are so resilient. Anyway, I was about to leave when I see one of the staff unload this little "thing" from out of a towel into what all of the sudden seemed like the most gigantic kennel ever. I looked down to see this teeny tiny little bit of nothing sitting there...he was so far beyond pitiful...the thing is, he had such a raging case of mange that his hair was barely sprigs. He had the skin of a 100 year old elephant, all wrinkly and scaly, and it was about the same color as the concrete walls of the kennel. And then, as if he wasn't killing me already, he let out this little howl where his snout pointed up and his little lips made the tiniest O. That was it. I called Tom in tears and he said "Do what you need to do." My perfect husband who knows me so well. He knew that I would never be able to sleep if I left this baby at the shelter, he could hear it in my voice.

So the baby came home with me. All four pounds of him. He's on the mend and looking for a home. He still barely has any hair but we're workin' on it. Day by day.