Ridge still hides toys from Kenya.
Elsie still sits like a polar bear (I wonder how long that will last).
The Kenya Bean still wants (and gives) lots of kisses.
And the Baxter Boos, ever the gentle giant, seems bemused by all the fuss.
Isn't that they way of it, though?
Good news, bad news, job finds, job losses, pregnancies, terminal illnesses, births, deaths -- it doesn't matter what the event or how great or small: Life ambles on.
As one country song writer puts it, you can't fence time.
Nor would I want to.
I suspect at this point, neither would Elsie.
So, life is returning to some sense of normalcy here. Well, for the next two or three weeks anyway, just until Elsie gets her x-ray and we find out how many pups she's carrying. Then shortly after that we'll move into whelping mode (building the whelping box, acclimating Elsie to it, gathering all the necessary supplies, taking Elsie's temperature every twelve hours, clearing our schedules for the impending birth, etc.).
And we'll await her delivery.
Eight weeks after that, the pups will be gone, and we'll be family of five humans, four Labs, and one cat again.
And life will continue to wend its way.
Knowing it does and will makes me want, even more, to savor moments and make each day count - to enjoy this season and its lessons now, whatever they are, because this season, too, will pass.
It's truly a gift when we learn to treasure our days, whatever they bring. It's one of the many gifts my Lab kids and human kids have given me, and still do.
It's a gift I value and try to hold on to. And I'm doing so more effectively as the years go by.
The funny thing is that enjoying-the-moment isn't something we have to teach our Labs or children: they know it instinctively. But we, as adults, have to relearn the practice.
We have to relearn (or perhaps, recapture) wonder.
So I'm relearning and savoring, and thanking God for Labs and little ones.
Where would we be without them!
'Til next time,