Ama's First Birthday

What a year of memories! Twelve months of  Oma aahs as I watched Ama grow from an adorable chubby-cheeked infant into an inquisitive, lovable, and beautiful toddler. I am are smitten with her!!! I am blessed and lucky to see her almost everyday. I am are crazy about her and I applaud her every discovery. I can sit on the floor for hours watching her explore the world. It is hard to describe the flood of emotions I feel when she comes in my house and eagerly reaches for me to take her in my arms! She makes crazy snorting faces, laughs out loud, batts her eyes, winks when she knows she being clever, and gives me little comfort pats when I hug her tight. Farm chores are put on hold when Ama arrives.  I have written about the power of a grandparent, but to know the power of a grandchild----Oh my, am I smitten!!!

HAPPY 1st BIRTHDAY, AMA

Ama's first birthdy was celebrated with family and friends 

with a pool party at her house on Lookout Court.

Thank you, Sloan, for taking these great pictures of all the fun!

Birthday Girl!!
Mama made Organic Carrot Cake for Ama!

Ama makes her Funny Face for the camera!

Thanks for that delicious cake, Mama!

Papa's girl!

Do you need some more watermelon, Cuz?

Mom, I know this was for the boys' gift bags', but I want this dinosaur!

Aunt Ashley and Aunt Sarah were there to celebrate!!!

Want some icing, Mama?

Mama I'm loving this party!!!



Aunt Megs with Oma's little tarpon--
Elwood is quite the swimmer!!!!!

Uncle Conor

Aunt Courtney and Meara



Ama's BFF Caden- (almost 1 year old), Bruce and Johnna

Making New friends--Mason and Dylan !!

Aunt Pip!

Hmmmmmmm...........



 Ama, thank you for being in our lives-you help make everyday special!
LIFE IS GOOD!

DINGO

It was time.  Our loyal and devoted farm dog, Dingo had been showing signs of getting old.-She snored heavily in a deep, almost unconscious sleep through her afternoon naps, and she would awaken startled when I’d bend down to rub her ears.  Like myself, I’d catch her padding purposefully into a room. She’d stand there scanning the four corners with a puzzled expression, and look at me as if to say, “What did I come in here for?”  

Dingo loved her job.  She was proud to guard her family and uphold order on the farm premises.  She always slept lightly and was the first one up and out the door before daybreak to silently patrol the farm. She did not want to miss a thing, and felt it her duty to investigate the nocturnal comings and goings she missed while snoozing.  But lately, she was slow to rise.  And instead of racing dutifully to the front door, she’d leave her bed and join me as I sat sipping my coffee by the window. She’d politely lay her graying muzzle on my knee and together we’d gaze out across the moon-shadowed pastures waiting for the colors of the day to appear.

Dingo was born the year the Twin Towers of NYC went down.  I first saw her June 21 st of that year, standing bewildered and scared in the middle of the desolate dirt road that leads to my property.  She was a good mixture of shepherd, lab and chow and resembled an Australian dingo dog.  She was with a poodle-like pup with straggly black dreads. She had a makeshift collar of coarse rope tied in a sloppy knot around her neck.  The matted poodle had what looked like a real dog collar. A red plastic-like band buckled too tight around her neck.  Dingo appeared to be the leader of the duo. I already knew the routine. These two buddies were just two more furry faces that had just been discarded. Dogs pushed from some abominable coward’s vehicle and left to figure it out in Florida’s sweltering summer heat and unrelenting thunder and lightning storms.

I did not get to pet Dingo until the afternoon of September 10, 2001.  That first day I saw her in June, she and her friend ran and hid in the woods when I stepped out of my truck to coax them to me. That first afternoon I continued on my way to feed the horses at my barn. Later I returned to the place I first saw them in the road, and I left a bowl of water and a shallow bowl of dog kibble in the shade of a large tree.  As I started to drive off I saw them both emerge from the woods.  I got out of my truck talking and sweetly coaxing them to come to me. They slipped back in the woods.  I drove forward and watched them in my rearview mirror. They emerged from the brush and stood on the roadside watching my tailgate get further and further from them. When it appeared I was safely far away they hurried to the bowls and devoured every bite.  This was the start of three long months of slowly trying to win her trust.

It had never taken me so long to convince a dog to trust me. What had someone done to these two dogs to make them so afraid of people? I spent hours sitting in the road, both dogs within my reach, but any move I made to touch them was met with serious growls and barred teeth. And so morning and night, I fed them---I was even able to worm them with Lassie liquid wormer in their food.  One afternoon in the pouring rain while they were eating I distracted them enough to cut the makeshift collars off somehow avoiding snapping teeth.  Three months of thunderstorms, mosquitoes, and incessant heat until one day in September Dingo appeared for breakfast with no friend.  

I have no idea what happened; I can only torture myself with my imagination.  The woods have bobcats, wild pigs, and coyotes. The canal where I sometimes watched them drink is home to alligators and snakes.  I did what I should have done months before---I called my friend at animal control and asked for advice.  She agreed to meet me that afternoon after work.  The county has only three large traps for animals.  She agreed to let me borrow one that night if I put down $100.00 deposit.  She had been eating Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch and had the box with a leg bone on her front seat.  We set the trap up in the shade of a pine tree and she threw in the chicken bone, turned to me and said, “Chicken bones get ‘em every time!”

We parted ways and I returned to my barn.  My good friend and riding buddy MO called to tell me she was on her way to my barn to ride her horse.  I told her of my frustration and the new plan and explained where I had hidden the trap. Twenty minutes later as she drove down the dirt road, she called me and said, “You got yourself a Dingo!!”

I could ramble on about what a great dog Dingo was… I will one day write down all the stories of my escapades with her. That first week I took her to the vet to be spayed.  I put the word out to try and find her a good home.  Thank God, I had no takers.  It didn’t take long for everyone to see that she was a gem of a dog! There was no way she was leaving my farm! She was an awesome dog.  Mannerly, modest, brave, and loyal, she became everyone’s favorite to take on horseback rides.  She was instinctive, protective, intelligent, and I believe she would have laid down her life for me.  And like most rescues, she remained forever grateful for the opportunity to walk the beat on Forever Weekend Farm. 

Probably one of the hardest things to do as a dog owner is making the decision to intervene and help a beloved pet pass painlessly onto heaven. I have selfishly held on to an ailing senior pet because the thought of not having that friend grace my day was too much to bear.  The uncertainty of never having that zealous greeting at the door after a long day at work or never being so appreciated for just being me was something I could not face and so I sidelined that dreaded decision.  Oh, I talked the talk and advised others what to do when their pets were ready. I still do. I’m always offering to hold friends’ hands and be there to help when it is time.  It is such a hard decision.

Yes, it is a hard decision, but a loving and loyal friend deserves to die with dignity.  I promised that to Dingo.  So thirteen years from the month she was probably born---on a beautiful Friday morning, Dingo did not eat her breakfast.  She did not eat her dinner.  Saturday morning, Dingo did not get up.  We carried her outside and we stretched out with her on her quilt in the shade of an oak tree.  We told her how wonderful she was and how much we appreciated her.  Her breathing was labored and I thought God was going to take her.  Dingo did get up one more time.  She never wanted to be any trouble so I believe she was trying to go off and die in peace without a lot of fuss.  I could not bear that---We carried her into the house and we made her as comfortable as possible.  But as she was being gently carried into the living room, her eyes met mine.  That look said it all.  I knew my sweet friend was ready.  I knew it was time.  I called my vet who has always agreed to come to the house and  Jerren, Pat, and I sat with Dingo stroking and hugging her.  We told her what she meant to all of us and how happy we were to have had her in our lives.  Our vet arrived and gently sat with us.  And while Dingo was being lavished with love and praise, she quietly helped our forever friend pass on.

My Dingo slipped off to heaven with her head resting in my arms.  She was buried next to Billy Bob and Wooie.

Every day I think I see her. In the morning, when I sit in my chair sipping coffee, I look out on the fields as the morning sun turns them green, and I see Dingo. Silently she trots with grace and grit, her head held high. Her eyes are bright and her tail..... a wagging flag as she continues to patrol the pastures of Forever Weekend Farm with dignity. She is forever in my heart.