Category Archives: Uncategorized

Change of Plans- My First Mission Trip Lesson

Posted on July 8, 2012 by caverns of my mind

If you have followed many of my posts, you know that a huge passion of mine is to help put an end to human trafficking.  You may also know that I am about to embark on a mission trip to Costa Rica (this Sat actually- woo-hoo!).  My husband and I have realized we feel a call to do something with our lives that will help those recovered from human trafficking, and it just happens that after I signed up for one of our church’s mission  trips, we found out we were going to work with the Rahab Foundation, an organization which does just that.  What an incredible learning experience for me, right?

Through the process of wanting to help the team understand human trafficking more, I began to further my research on the topic.  The doubts I had that my husband and I were headed on the right path vanished. We do not know exactly what our next steps are, so we felt this trip might be a jumping off point for us.

Then a few days ago, an email was sent out by the mission team leader, and the subject line read: “IMPORTANT- Big change for Costa Rica- our first big test.”

I avoided opening that message and checked everything else first, played around on Facebook for a while, and even did some dishes.  When I finished all of that, the message was still there, and it looked important since, as you can see, it was written in all caps.  I knew without opening it that our plans to work with the Rahab Foundation had changed.  Sure enough.  There had been some sort of scheduling conflict at the last minute and we would now be unable to work with them. I was immediately angry and sad.  My doubts that Robert and I maybe aren’t meant to join the forces of putting an end to modern day slavery resurfaced.  I cried.

Soon I remembered that everyone I’ve ever talked to about going on mission trips has said to expect the unexpected, but to trust God in it because it will be an amazing experience, even if it isn’t the experience you expected or wanted it to be.  Instead of working with these women, the team will be working with low-income, high-risk children, teaching them about and showing them God’s love. Obviously this is an incredible opportunity to experience God.  Also, now the men on the team, and the two young boys will be able to interact and do more than paint a building.  Through these changes, we ALL have a chance to experience and show God to those who desperately need Him. That truly excites me.

But was this a sign that God was not leading Robert and I to be abolitionists?  I don’t think that was His intention at all.  He knew the whole time that this mission team would be working with these kids, but He also knew I needed a bit of a jump-start, which I was given because of this trip as I dove into searching out information and organizations that dedicate themselves to the worthy cause of freedom of all human beings.  That process has already pushed us forward on our journey.  Robert and I are talking about it more, researching more, and planning our next moves as well as praying that we make the right ones.  We’ve included asking our small group and my parents to pray with us for direction, and I believe our lives are going to seriously begin to change this year as God helps us put down a foundation on which we will grow our own outreach/ministry.

I’m still not sure what will happen next for Robert and I or my mission team, but this scripture (Proverbs 3:5-6) helps me trust God: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”  I just have to trust Him, and he’ll help me though the rest of it.

In order to keep this in mind, I ask God, “Show me the path where I should go, O Lord; point out the right road for me to walk.” (Psalm 25:4)

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Always Wear Clean Underwear

Posted on July 5, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I was looking through some old files on a flashdrive and found this story I wrote a long time ago for some sort of short short story contest.  It did NOT win, but it made me laugh a bit, especially since I completely forgot I wrote it.

Always Wear Clean Underwear

I could have avoided all that trouble if only I had remembered to wear clean underwear.  Mom always said, “Be sure you wear clean underwear.  After all, you never know when you might get in an accident and you’ll have on dirty underwear.  How embarrassing that would be for you!” Does anybody ever really think that will happen to her?  Honestly, my problem wasn’t having on dirty underwear, rather none at all.  Let me go back to the beginning before you get the wrong idea about me.

Yesterday was laundry day.  The problem is that I left my delicate load in the washing machine overnight and by the time I realized my error, it was time to leave for class and my panties were still damp.  I’m not the type of girl who feels comfortable going without undies, but I had little choice.  I grabbed a pair out of the load as I transferred my delicates to the dryer, scooped up my book-bag, and was in my car in a flash.  Having a car with darkly tinted windows can be a great advantage, and I used the opportunity to hang my panties from the little hook over the window in the back seat.  This was great, as I had never actually found a use for one of these strange catches before.  The drive to campus was about 45 minutes and I was hoping this would be long enough for my undergarments to reach a comfortable moisture level.

My radio was blasting as I sang along with “Tainted Love” on the 80’s station.  Suddenly, the ring-tone of “The Imperial March” broke into my trance.  “Hey Danni!  What’re you up to?…. Of course I’m out of bed.  I have class this morning….. Sure, I’ll swing by to get you, and Brianna….. See ya in a few.”

I cranked my radio back up and returned to my singing.  I felt like the next American Idol in the comfort of my own car.  Yes, I had become quite comfortable in my usual routine of my morning commute.  I didn’t even mind the short detour to get my two best friends, and I had completely forgotten about my panties.

As I pulled up in front of Danni’s apartment, I saw that she and Brianna were out front waiting.  They didn’t see me though, since they were talking to Cameron on the front steps.  Cameron is a superior specimen in every way, and it is no secret that I’ve had a crush on him for about a year now.  The problem is that I never seem to have the ability of making enough small talk around him to keep him in close proximity for long.  I could have sat watching him for hours, but class was in ten minutes, so I honked the horn to get my friends’ attention.  To my surprise, all three came strolling my way.

Brianna opened the door.  “Hi Kat!  Is it all right if we give Cameron a ride?  His car won’t start,” she said, winking at me.

“Oh, sure.  There’s plenty of room.”  With that, Brianna hopped into the back seat, scooting over behind me.  Danni told Cameron she didn’t mind sitting in the back, but he insisted he would sit back there.  Once they were all in, I got the car back on the road.  Danni was digging through my CDs when Cameron said, “I thought your name was Kathryn?”

“Yeah, that’s right.  Why?”

“I just thought it was odd that your panties say “Angel”.

Smash!  In my moment of shock and humiliation, the front end of my small sedan crumpled into the back of a soccer-ball stickered mini-van full of kids carpooling to school.   The airbags had deployed.  “Is everyone all right?”  I heard myself asking, as if outside of my own body.

Once we all realized we were not only still among the living, but also mostly unharmed, we all got out of the car to check on the van full of kids.  The side door on the vehicle opened and there was pandemonium as eight kids spilled out.  Everyone seemed to have a cell phone in hand, and only a few minutes passed before the first cop arrived on the scene.  The officer was taking my statement at the back of my car when one of the kids suddenly yelled out, “Hey, lady!  Is that your underwear on the ground?  Looks like it fell out of your car.”

Copyright by Terri Klaes Harper 2006

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All Men were Created Equal… All

Posted on July 4, 2012 by caverns of my mind

The Declaration of Independence was written specifically to dissolve the relationship “the Colonies” had with Great Britain due to the tyrannical acts of George III, and the result was the birth of this great free nation we now call the United Stated of America.  We all know, or should know that from history class.  However, freedom and independence, for which many sacrificed and died to secure for us, should not be ideas only we can enjoy, but should be the general consideration of human beings to each other, everywhere.

No, the irony that Thomas Jefferson, the writer of this great document which gives us this day to celebrate our freedom, owned slaves is not lost on me.  He was a complex man, and though he owned several slaves, he actually was against slavery and wanted it to be abolished.  I remember learning something once about his attacking Great Britain for its support of the slave trade in an earlier draft of the Declaration, but it was removed at the request of Georgia and South Carolina, I believe.  It is likely that the reason he was unable to free his slaves was because of personal debt which had to be paid off before he could free them, though many were freed before his death.  Say what you will about this man, after all, his life and character have been hotly debated for a few centuries now, but he did pen these famous and treasured words:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men were created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

If you read it again, you will notice the words “all men.”  The Creator endowed these rights, so they really go beyond our governments anyway, right?  Who will declare independence and freedom for those enslaved today all over the world (including in our own “free country”)?  This isn’t something we need to depend solely on our world governments to do, though that would be a huge help; this is something we can all do, even in little acts.

This is not meant to make any Americans feel guilty as we celebrate our freedom today.  By all means, grill hotdogs and hamburgers (tofu burgers if you really want, since it is a free country and all), eat apple pie, and light fireworks or just watch them on display, while you savor the moments with your family and friends.  We have those rights, and we should be proud and thankful for what we have.

I just ask that you take a moment to remember with me, there are about 27 million people around the world, and a surprising number of them hidden right here in our free nation, who are not themselves free, but are enslaved to a tyrannical power which is using them and exploiting them.  Human trafficking is modern day slavery.  Spread the word.  Find an organization to support.  Let’s help declare freedom for those who are enslaved and do not have voices of their own in which to do so.

Happy Birthday to the United States of America!  I am proud to be an American and I will use my free voice to spread the word about those who are not.

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Hope Lies in Creating Ripples

Posted on June 28, 2012 by caverns of my mind

Several months ago I finished reading one of the most eye-opening books with which I’ve ever come into contact.  The Hole in our Gospel, written by Richard Stearns, the CEO of World Vision reveals statistics of poverty and struggle and displays them in a new light.  He shares research, but also personal encounters he has had in his position and through his world travels.  Much of the book is heart-breaking, not because these problems are so big that they cannot be fixed, but because they actually could be fixed…if everyone was willing to help even just a little.  This is the overall premise of the book:  the Bible teaches that we should love and help others in need, but we often just don’t, usually because we feel our little contribution is too small to make any difference (more on that in a future post).  It is in the gospel, but as a whole, we don’t follow it.  If we did as God has instructed, the world would be a changed place.

Going right along with my passion of protecting and restoring the lives of those held captive in various aspects from human trafficking, is that the major reasons women get trapped into this world are because of poverty and the greed of others.  One side of this is that the pimps and “johns” need to be more severely punished, but women also need to have a way to care for themselves and their families. Stearns addresses this in his book. “..women own less that 1 percent of the world’s property. They also work two-thirds of all the world’s labor hours, but earn just 10 percent of the world’s wages.”  This is because in many countries, especially the developing countries, women are denied an education (I wish girls here in the US really knew how fortunate they are for having free education), and two-thirds of the world’s illiterate are women.  Education truly is power.

Stearns also says that in his opinion, “the single most significant thing that can be done to cure extreme poverty is this: protect, educate, and nurture girls and women and provide them with equal rights and opportunities- educationally, economically, and socially.”  I can agree with that.  He also adds a popular saying from many parts of Africa: “‘If you educate a man, you simply educate an individual, but if you educate a woman, you educate a nation.'”   The idea is that a woman will use what she learns to provide for her family and to ensure an education for her daughters.  If this begins to take place more and more, eventually many of the horrors associated with poverty would begin to dissipate.

This is a beautiful yet simple idea.

I recently heard of a small business dedicated to doing something along these lines.  A company called Trades of Hope sells the goods women are creating in countries around the world, using what is available to them, and sells them here in the U.S. through the model of the “home party,” which is so common with make-up, candles and the like.  These women are earning an income for their families by handcrafting amazing products to sell.  They are empowered and have a skill to offer.  I’m so intrigued by this company that I am even considering joining their team and selling these goods, even though my Mary Kay sales days were not so lucrative, and appropriately short-lived.  I could get behind this because the products are unique and the cause is amazing, giving these women true hope.

If we could all commit to taking small steps, we could begin to change the world.

“I alone cannot change the world.  But I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”  -Mother Teresa

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Between the Rock and a rock

Posted on June 27, 2012 by caverns of my mind

My last post had more than double the views on any post I’ve written before, which was awesome, but also intimidating.  How do I follow that up?  It’s a lot easier for an introvert to pour out her heart when she doesn’t think anyone is going to read it anyway, and hopes that the ones who do are strangers so it won’t matter if they find out my intimate secrets and feelings.  Of course, there’s also the part of me that kept checking my stats and smiling.  When I was on the programming team at my church, our pastor always told us, “They don’t have to all be home-runs.”  All right.  I’m ok with that.  Maybe we’ll just get to first base today.  Maybe I’ll just bunt the ball.  Maybe I’ll foul out.  That’s about all I know for baseball metaphors, so I’m just going to move on now.  I apologize to any of you who actually know about baseball.  I’m sure I screwed something up there.

As I mentioned in my last post (if you are reading this and did not read that one, go back and read it- it’s better), I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life than working to fight against human trafficking and helping the survivors to rebuild their lives.  That being said, I come to the part I don’t want many people to read, because I’m either really brave for putting this out there, or stupid.  Probably stupid.  There may be people reading this that I shouldn’t be revealing this to yet.

How am I going to commit my life’s work to being a full-time abolitionist and keep my day job?

My day job consumes every ounce of energy I have, and fills almost every second of my day except when I’m sleeping, though I dream about it often as well.  I get two months out of the year to remember who I am and to have other interests. I’m a teacher.  And a perfectionist.  This means I put everything into what I do.  Colossians 3:23 basically says we are to do everything we do with all our hearts as if we’re working for God and not people, so I do.  This makes me good at what I do, though I still always feel like so much more is expected, especially with all the stupid recent developments in education in Florida.

One of the reasons we never adopted a child (still a possibility) is because I cannot imagine raising a human being and being a teacher.  I know people do it all the time, but I don’t know how I would ever make that work.  I would be good at one and fail at the other.  So I feel like my career holds me back from a lot.  I know I touch lives, and I love my students (most of them).  I would never say being a teacher was a waste or a bad decision, but I told my husband when I started it that if I ever felt like I was heading towards burn out and feared becoming one of those ineffective and jaded teachers, it would be time to move on.  At that point I didn’t have anything else in mind.  The calling towards abolition has been recent.  I thought once I had more teaching experience I would have more time for other interests, but last year was the most overwhelming so far, and next year looms scarily similar on the horizon.

Sure, I can use my job to spread the word.  I had the opportunity to explain to my students why I was missing school for three days last year to run from Miami to Key West, and I’ve had a few interesting discussions with students interested in making a difference.  Most of the kids I teach, being for the most part the more advanced and globally aware students, are perfect to motivate for my cause, but that isn’t enough for me.  I want to do that full time.

But we have a mortgage, which means we own a house requiring maintenance, cars to upkeep and fuel, utilities to pay, food to purchase (yep, gotta eat), etc.  My husband was unemployed for almost two years, so we know a bit about going without, but I can’t just quit my job.

So here is the time in my life where I have to consider my options.  My husband Robert and I do not yet have a clear picture of what we will be doing to help end human trafficking and helping to rebuild lives, so we need to settle that first, and then figure out how to do it.  I will continue to work my current job to the best of my ability (because that’s what God wants and because my students need me to), just as Robert will continue on with his.  Once our vision becomes more clear, more planning will be needed, and I’ll have to take a step back and away from the comfort and security of a job I know, and I’ll have to operate on faith.  But one thing I’ve learned from reading Quitter by Jon Acuff is that we’ll need a bit more developed towards our goal before I can “quit my day job.”

The only way this is truly going to work is to put God first in all of this and trust that He will provide the correct vision, and set us on the path heading the right direction.

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#5 Those Crazy Aussie Dog People

Posted on June 22, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I’ve spent a week attempting to entertain with stories about my two delightfully loving, yet headstrong Australian shepherds.  Yet, I’ve only scratched the surface.  I’m sure more dog blog posts will come, but I recommend you go out and get an Aussie or two of your own so you can experience the joy for yourself and you will not need to live vicariously through me…because that’s a scary thought.

I mentioned in an earlier post that the day we brought Dylan home forever changed my world.  It wasn’t instantaneous, but crept over me slowly, like my little ninja MJ tends to do while we’re watching TV or trying to sleep.  These dogs opened my eyes to an unconditional love not often seen in people, unfortunately.  They have inspired me.

The world is a complicated place, unless you’re a dog.  People commit cruel acts towards one another all the time, but not dogs.  People judge one another, even when they don’t know each other.  Dogs tend to be accepting.  We can learn from dogs.

Dylan’s sire is a therapy dog with Delta certification.  He visits the elderly in nursing homes, and helps kids who have difficulty doing so to read.  Their intelligence and their loving and accepting demeanor often make Aussies a good breed for such  endeavors.

We see it in our dogs too. During a trip to Petsmart, a boy with special needs saw our dogs and came, practically running, towards them and plopped himself down on the floor in front of them.  Now if Robert or I sit on the floor by the dogs, they tackle us.  If we run, period, Dylan will attempt to bring us down.  They tend to get excited beyond control.

An attack might look like this…

…or this. (again, ignore the dates from our confused camera)

Not this time.  Both dogs remained calm and let that boy pet them and put his face close to theirs without them licking him or pushing him down.  They knew.  The boy’s father told us his son loves dogs and thanked us for letting him spend some time with them.  It was our pleasure, and the dogs’ pleasure too.  We could tell they were loving it.  They understood their boundaries, but they still got some lovin’ out of the deal.

We were able to bring the dogs with us to Christmas at my sister’s the year of my grand nephew’s first Christmas. He was at the age where he was using anything and everything to pull himself up, including Dylan’s long fur, which apparently was easy to grip onto.   As far as we knew, Dylan had never been around a small child like this before, and it was clear he was taken aback by the assault, but he somehow knew this child meant him no harm and he was not to retaliate in any way.  He suffered silently and bravely.

A few months ago I had a horrible day at work.  Honestly, I do not remember the details, but it was one of those emotionally draining days when one thing after another piles on (I’d probably been cussed out by a parent who was mad I gave her kid a zero for work she didn’t turn in or something equally unjustified in her eyes).  This was a day when I left as soon as my time was up for the day (I tend to stick around for at least an hour or so) and I fought back the tears during the drive home.

My homecoming routine is to set down all the work I have to bring home, let the dogs out of their crates, and take the dogs out back to potty.  Their routine is to attack me with love and music (they both sing), which means they jump up and rub on me. On this day, I let them out but denied them each their “welcome home, we love you Mommy” time.  I’d been holding those tears in and wanted to let them out quickly so I wouldn’t have a breakdown in the backyard.  Once back inside, I collapsed in a chair, placed my face into my hands and sobbed- we’re talking audible, body-shaking sobs- like I hadn’t in years.

At first the dogs stood back, tilting their heads as they watched.  MJ even seemed a bit scared at first.  Slowly each dog came to my side and nuzzled me until I looked up at them.  In that moment, MJ did her snarl which means she wants to make sure it’s ok to approach you, and both dogs placed their upper bodies in my lap, all at once.  It was a lot of dog to have in my lap.  They were sneezing their laughter sneezes and nuzzling me, and all the while their eyes expressed concern.  They weren’t sure what was wrong, but they wanted to fix it and let me know they loved me.  They do these actions often anyway, but there was something different about their approach and delicacy in the matter.

I recently read about an organization called the Heartland Alliance which uses therapy dogs to comfort victims in court when they need to testify.  For example, a young girl had to testify against her father who had sexually abused her.  A golden retriever had spent time with her getting her comfortable with what would come and was even able to be in the courtroom as she gave her testimony, apparently nuzzling the little girl when she paused for too long, to give her support.  With that dog’s help, the girl got through it and her father was locked away.  What an amazing story!

My husband and I have felt a pull to DO SOMETHING to help fight human trafficking, or to help the survivors.  One idea that keeps knocking around in my mind is the idea of therapy dogs.  We would love to have land, dogs, and a sort of “retreat” for survivors to come as part of their recovery.  I have no idea how to make that happen, but we’re believing that God does. Also, neither of us are counselors, but we believe if it’s meant to happen, everything and everyone we need will come together.

None of this would even seem an option today had we not adopted Dylan back in March of 2007.  His love, and MJ’s love inspire me.  They have all the qualities these survivors would need.  Acceptance, unconditional love, and hope.  These dogs display hope every moment of the day.

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Those Crazy Aussie Dog People: Quatro

Posted on June 21, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I guess dogs will be dogs.  When they are bad, are they really bad, or just operating on their instincts?  Sometimes it’s hard to be upset when they seem to think they’ve done something perhaps beyond acceptable, and possibly even treat-worthy.  Also, my Aussies are so cute I can never stay mad at them.  I cannot resist the wiggle.  I believe I’m what you can simply call a sucker, push-over, or puppy-whipped.

First, there is theft.  Am I saying it’s natural for dogs to want to steal?  Of course not- at least not in that sense- but they may get hungry from time to time, and well… let me go back to the beginning of this story.

The little girl next door was having a back yard birthday party and we had been invited, along with Dylan (this was the summer before we adopted MJ).  Dylan just loves children.  After all, children love pretty, fluffy doggies, so not only are they active targets, but they also are prone to fawn all over Dylan.  He was almost more the center of attention than the birthday girl at this party.  “Where’s Dylan? Come here Dylan. I want to play with Dylan. Can Dylan play on a swing?” could be heard in little voices all over the yard, and even on their back enclosed patio (I have no idea how he got in there).  Maybe he was caught up in the excitement, or maybe all the activity had simply left him famished, but as I was sitting in a lawn chair (having a surprisingly pleasant conversation with a couple who had discovered I was the teacher in whom’s class their son had just scraped by with a D), the half a hot dog I had been holding in my hand was gone, and a reddish furry flurry had just made a pass-by.  Yes, I had fallen victim to a run-by hotdog snatch by my own lousy dog!  I wanted to be angry, but another part of me just wanted a slow motion instant replay because I was impressed that he had managed to steal the wiener without actually touching me at all.  Mad skills, right?

Second, we have assault and battery.

A few months later, the little girl next door had a girl scout sleepover.  Most of these girls had been at the birthday party and remembered Dylan.  Now, what I write next is the story as told by my husband because I regret not being a witness to this one.

It was early on a Sunday morning, not even light for long yet.  Kids never sleep at sleepovers and the scouts were already awake and playing outside next door.  Dylan, being a dog of routine and having a tiny bladder, needed to go outside.  Once the handsome dog’s presence was discovered, little girls were begging, “Oh, please let Dylan come play with us!”  In that moment, Robert was torn, knowing it was innocent enough, but not sure of the outcome.  He prefaced the play time with a warning: “Remember that you can’t run.  Dylan WILL chase you, so just stay calm.”

“We promise!” declared those little liars.  As soon as Dylan was free from the leash, he harmlessly jogged, perhaps a bit quickly and excitedly for a jog, over for play time, and every one of those little girls ran in different directions, screaming as they went.  I mentioned in the past Dylan’s breed’s skill set and instincts are to herd, right?  Imagine being a herding dog- it’s in your blood- and all the little “livestock” is running free in chaos.  Yep, Dylan ran literal circles around them to bring them in together, knocking some down and using the nipping technique as he went.  Robert described it as pandemonium, and as he retold the story, I could see his mind wandering back to the fateful scene, as if he now suffered from PTSD.  “One little girl fell down and cried out, ‘I’ve just been bitten by a dog.'”

No worries.  Everyone was fine.  No blood had been spilled, and we learned that Dylan enjoys herding girl scouts, even if they do not have any cookies for him (he loves cookies!).

The third issue is conspiracy.

MJ tends to be shy in social settings, so we weren’t sure how she would take to the dog park.  At first she stuck as close to her big brother as possible (she literally wants to be touching him when at all possible), just observing the other dogs.  Then she strayed from her brother’s protection and headed straight towards some largish mutts, challenging them.  This was all calculated as I could clearly see her making sure she knew exactly where her brother was first.  Once the other dogs began to chase her, she ran past her brother, whose attention was now piqued, and under a picnic bench she was still small enough to fit under, but the mutts were not. Obviously that slowed them down, and gave Dylan enough time to come to MJ’s defense.  She is smart and manipulative.  Since almost every other dog Dylan comes into contact with recognizes him as the alpha, the mutts backed off and MJ came out from hiding, and repeated a similar process a few more times.

The fourth crime is accessory to murder.

Ok, so not really murder, but a good crime of passion anyway, or maybe a bit more a case of domestic violence.  I’ve mentioned a few times how much Dylan loves his plush green squeaky spider we named Green.  Seriously, this dog has separation anxiety if he cannot find Green.  When the vacuum runs, Dylan needs Green; when the blender liquifies our smoothies, Dylan needs Green; when it’s bedtime, Dylan needs Green; for any uncertain situation, Green is there, in Dylan’s mouth, or laying close by.  Dylan and MJ play tug with Green sometimes, and now Green is missing a few appendages. Sometimes Daddy and Dylan play tug with Green, and he’s required a few surgeries.  Dylan’s love of Green makes what I witnessed one day seem impossible.  Every time I see Dylan with Green, the song, “Happy Together” plays in my head, so why would I find Dylan holding Green down between his paws as he ripped stuffing out of Green’s neck by use of his teeth?  It was horrible, and I was almost too late to stop it.  At the last possible second, as I called out to Dylan from across the room, and ran in what seemed like bad slow motion in a B movie, he stopped, looked up at me and whimpered.  “Mommy!  I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what came over me, but can you save my friend?”  No, I didn’t actually hear him say that aloud (I’m not really crazy), but it was clear in his eyes.

With a needle and thread that sort of matched the correct shade of Green, I went to work on saving Green, forcing as much stuffing as I could back into the oozing wound.  Dylan paced like an expecting father in the waiting room in those old shows and movies when men weren’t allowed in the room during childbirth.  He whimpered and cried out.  He even came and tried to pry Green from my hands a few times.  Finally, Green was repaired and the two old friends were reunited.

I’d like to tell you that Green and Dylan have lived happily ever after, and they sort of have, except we are now on the fourth Green.

Still, I don’t always understand why my dogs do what they do, but I know by their happy faces that their intentions are never to do harm.  They may just get carried away in the moment.  You cannot look an Aussie is the face and see anything but joy and love, unless it’s guilt brought on by some misunderstanding.

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Those Crazy Aussie Dog People the 3rd

Posted on June 20, 2012 by caverns of my mind

Yesterday was Dylan’s day.  Today is for our little one-Baby Girl as I often call her- MJ, which stands for Mara Jade.  In the trilogy of Star Wars books telling the tale of life immediately following Ewoks, Luke Skywalker is hunted by, and eventually falls in love with and marries a sassy redhead named Mara Jade.  Being the nerds we are, Robert and I named our little red-tri puppy after her.

The happiness we had with Dylan for our first year led us to thinking we might want to add to our family unit, and it just so happened that Dylan’s birth mother had recently given birth to another litter of puppies.  In fact, there had been another bitch (it’s ok to say it in this case because that’s what the word was intended for anyway, so calm down) who had a litter around the same time and there were many puppies to unload.  Three of them were still available much past the usual time, so they were again “discount dogs.”  We took Dylan back with us and he picked one of the two little girls because she didn’t annoy him as much as the other.  She immediately attached herself to her big brother (remember that they really do have the same mom), but he wasn’t so sure.  The lack of personal space sort of freaked him out for a while.

Dylan had a toy Green and a Blue

Eventually he learned to more than just accept her, and to actually love her.  We knew this had happened when he actually brought her his favorite toy and best friend, Green.  Green is to Dylan what that blue blanket is to Linus, so at that moment we knew he loved his baby sister.

MJ using Green for a sleep buddy, with Dylan’s permission

Even now, the two are inseparable, and Dylan puts up with quite a bit of abuse from MJ.

MJ can be a pain in the neck

You could say MJ  had a troubled youth.  I’m not sure if it’s because she knew she was a “discount dog,” or what, but when I took her out on the town for people socialization, she was always mostly interested in discarded cigarette butts.  At home, she was always trying to drink Mommy and Daddy’s beer or wine.  She tended to sprawl out on the floor in the most unladylike positions.  She even resorted once to chewing a plugged in electrical extension cord (also two remote controls, a Blackberry, and a pair of glasses, though those did not electrocute her and cause her Mommy to panic).

It was clear she needed reform, so we enrolled her into Puppy Kindergarten, and she became the star pupil.  With her troubles behind her, she has taken on new interests and hobbies, like chasing and catching the “flippy,” leaning against everything, and warning us when anything moves in our front or back yards.  She has learned her left from her right, and has even attempted to take up singing, though she is not nearly as controlled and on key as her brother (though he does get “stuck” and stutter sometimes).  She has also mastered the head tilt of curiosity and waking us up in the morning.

I think she fears she is still missing out on something…like having a tail, but she’s found a way around that, also making parts that fall off Dylan’s Green useful. She really likes “Green leg” because it has a squeaker at the end.

MJ is nothing if not resourceful

Yes, our little girl is all grown up now into a beautiful lady, but just as I as the youngest will always be my mom’s “baby,” MJ will always be my little puppy.

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Those Crazy Aussie Dog People: Part II

Posted on June 19, 2012 by caverns of my mind

The star of today’s show is Sir Dylan.  You may remember his rump from yesterday’s post (that’s usually the part dogs meet first, right?). Today, here is his handsome mug for your viewing pleasure:

Dylan enjoys peanut butter, long walks anywhere on a leash, cuddling, barking at squirrels, Mommy and Daddy time, and his best friend Green.

Ignore the date- the camera lies.

The day we bought Dylan changed the course of the rest of my life.  Due to health issues in his original people family, Dylan had been “returned” to a breeder (Heavensent Aussies) in connection with the Buckingham Ranch, where he was born.  By this time he was alomst 1 1/2 and was a discount dog because of all this.  We arranged to look at a litter of puppies, but had been informed he would be there too.  I don’t remember even looking at those puppies once we arrived.  We met Dylan, took care of the financials and paperwork, and were on our way with our new dog.

It all happened so fast.  As we walked our new dog to the car, I remember freaking out a bit.  After all, with dog ownership comes great responsibility.  I could only guess this was the feeling new parents get when taking home their baby for the first time. Now I know you are shaking your head at this if you are a parent- probably laughing too- but it’s the closest thing I know.

I wanted Robert to have a dog and I was going along with it.  I knew little about taking care of a dog and was terrified.  I had been a cat person because they were easy.  Food. Litter box. Clean litter box. Done.  A dog would demand my time and attention, which I had little of as a first year teacher.  As I watched Dylan leap excitedly and unquestioningly into the back seat of the car, I was panicked.  He seemed ok with the whole thing, but I wasn’t sure I was…and I had to sit in the back seat with him in order to keep him from climbing up on us in the front seat.

We had purchased a crate, which Dylan was to sleep in at night and stay in when we went to work.  The crate was in the living room and our bedroom was far down at the end of the hallway, around a corner even.  Still, we could hear him crying all night long. Determined for Dylan to get used to sleeping in that crate, Robert even spent the first night sleeping next to him on the floor.  After that we tried earplugs at night because Robert couldn’t sleep on the tile floor every night.  A month or so of this must have gone by before I realized it made more sense for Dylan to be free to roam at night since Robert tended to be gone at least a few nights each week.  After all, dogs are protectors, but he couldn’t protect me while locked in a crate.  That was phase one for Dylan getting his way.

Phase two came one day when I wasn’t feeling well.  I had a mind-numbing, vomit-inducing headache, so I went to bed to nap in the darkness.  After a while, Robert realized Dylan was not with him. As he approached the bedroom, there was Dylan, curled up right next to me…on the bed!  After that, the rules about not getting on the furniture no longer existed.  He won us over with love and devotion.  Once we also had MJ we had to upgrade from a double to a king.  Heck, there were cold nights when even the cat slept on the bed with all of us, and she hates the dogs.

Dylan’s protective and loving nature helped us form a quick bond, and learning how to care for him became easy.  Love has a way of working itself out.  Even as I type this, Dylan’s head is resting on my foot while he sleeps, ears twitching and all.  It’s hard to remember that time over five years ago when I couldn’t imagine bonding with this guy, because now I cannot imagine NOT having this love.

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Those Crazy Aussie Dog People: My Dog Days of Summer

Posted on June 18, 2012 by caverns of my mind

How many of you know some of those crazy dog people?

What you cannot see right now is that I am raising my hand and pointing frantically at myself because I AM one of those crazy dog people.  Yep- we have no kids, so our dogs have taken over that part of our lives.  We send the traditional family photo Christmas card, with our dogs in the pic in place of kids.  I even considered getting those tacky little family stick figure window stickers for my car, using a man, a woman, and two dogs (maybe we’d even stick the cat on there, but she prefers to be left out of everything).  We pretend we know what the dogs would say if they could speak and speak for them, and we call each other Mommy and Daddy when the dogs refer to us.  “Aw, MJ just loves her daddy!”

I didn’t start out as a crazy dog person.  In fact, I grew up as a cat lover and was a bit scared of dogs over 30 lbs, but my husband wanted to be able to get a dog once we had a house, and I was ready to give it a try.  We researched breeds and kept coming back to Australian shepherds, which are not Australian, by the way.  This is an active breed, an intelligent breed, and a fluffy breed (our Dyson has been a great investment).  They were primarily bred in America for the purpose of herding cattle, instincts that apparently carry over to girl scouts (it’s ok- nobody was hurt). Because tails could get in the way, causing injury or infection, the breed standard is also to have their tails docked when they are puppies, for which my belongings and I are ever grateful.

This seems to have led to various degrees of “the wiggle.”  The wiggle encompasses everything from a slight movement of the “nub,” to a full on body-bent-in-half-at-the-waist wiggle, to “the Shakira” in which MJ’s hips move so quickly you can feel a breeze if you’re standing close.  With the last two types there are also often happy snarls and sneezes (we read somewhere that these sneezes are a sort of dog laughter).

In Dylan’s case, the docked tail has also lead to what we call the “Donald Rump.” I’m sure you can see why.

If it’s true that pets can add years to one’s life, I am certain Robert and I will live at least till 100, and so to return the favor, I am dedicating a blog post each day this week to my Awesome Aussies, Sir Dylan (we never call him Sir, as we’re afraid it will go to his head- he’s already quite the alpha dog) and Mara Jade (she’s named after Luke Skywalker’s redheaded wife).

If you stay tuned, you’ll get the girl scout story.

For today, I’ll leave you with this thought:

“My goal in life is to be as good of a person as my dog already thinks I am.” ~Author Unknown

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