Here I am (yup, it's really me) being loved to death (nearly) by my girls. Pinot and Kenya were licking my face so much, I had to hold my breath so I didn't inhale their, ahem, kisses (that's why my face is so red). And Elsie kept me still by resting her head on my knees so I couldn't escape (hehe)! Teamwork.
I love my girls. I love my boys, too... every one of them.
RR knows that if I had to pick a favorite from among gang, for years it would have been Baxter -- our big galoot of a gentle giant who is no longer ours, but now belongs heart and soul to DSD & DSSIL, serving as their companion and four-footed kid up in Maine (the best kind for newlyweds). He was my bud, the toothless wonder (remember when he lost his front teeth to tug-o-war with Kenya?), my Boos, my 110-pound lap dog.
But the Boos isn't here anymore, so he doesn't count in the "who's your favorite?" question.
In all honestly, I can't answer that question these days. I'm not partial to any one over the others - I truly love and and enjoy each for who he/she is.
Every one of our canine crew has managed to wriggle his/her way into my heart and stake a claim there. From Ridge to Rudy, and the four in between, they warm my soul and make me laugh and assure me that I'm needed and loved. How can I resist them?
So when the question comes up, "who's your favorite?", I can't say. I really don't have one.
I'd be hopelessly lost if I had to choose between them (Sophie's Choice with Meryl Streep was the most agonizing-choice-based drama I've ever seen, and that was 25 years ago -- it haunted me for weeks after I saw the movie). Having to choose between your children? How do you do that??
I've been thinking about this lately because of how life is unfolding here. Some of you have heard the broo-haw-haw on the news about pharmaceutical giant Phizer's hostile take-over attempt with Wyeth (both are pharmaceutical companies; Phizer is five times bigger than Wyeth; Phizer is in trouble financially, while Wyeth is sound; Phizer is looking for quick profits from Wyeth's products, etc... you get the picture). Well, guess who DH works for?
You got it: Wyeth. And if the take-over happens, Phizer will close and sell off Wyeth's research and development division of which DH is a part. In other words, at 52 yo, DH may well be out of a job (probably by September).
No job = no income = the need to look for a new job = the possible need to move.
Hmmm... we've been blessed with a wonderful, modest home and property sufficient on which to raise and keep our gang. What do we do if we can't stay here and can't find a place where we can house all six dogs?
Oh my. I get huge knots and near anxiety attacks when I think about it. My chest feels tight even as I write this.
These four-footed furry friends are like children to us. Their being able to go with or stay with us is non-negotiable as far as we're concerned (I don't care if I have to eat mac-n-cheese every night). They're family, for heaven's sake.
But the reality is, to many human-types out there, they're just dogs. And dogs can find new homes.
Maybe I'm just not cut out for raising Labs. Or maybe I'm just not hard-hearted or business-savvy enough. But I can't imagine giving any of these guys up because we can't afford him or because she has health issues or because we have to move to a smaller place.
Maybe someday we'll be forced to make that kind of decision, but for today we don't. No Sophie's Choices here yet (phew!). But DH's unsettled work situation has gotten us thinking about it.
On a side-note, we know, and empathize with, family after family who have had to make this choice during this economically challenged time. It's just not easy.
Truth be told, if it came down to it here, I don't think I could choose (someone else would have to). I love 'em all too much.
So is that a good thing or a bad thing?
I'm not sure.
It just is what it is.
At least, for now, I can enjoy six sloppy tongues of kisses, 12 adoring eyes, 24 paws scrambling for my lap, and over four-hundred pounds of Lab bodies keeping my feet warm.
I just hope it can stay that way.
'Til next time,