An Update

It's been awhile since I've posted on what we've been up to.  We have been busy around here.
In one of my previous posts I told you about the little dog we were fostering - Oliver.  Well we thought we had found Oliver his forever home.  After Oliver being with his new family for three weeks we got a call from the new owners.  Apparently their other dog took well to Oliver in the beginning but then decided Oliver was not his cup of tea.  The other dog began to attack Oliver so they called us and asked if they could "return Oliver to us."  Of course we agreed.  So Oliver is back and we've decided he will stay with us.  Took him into our vet and had the little guy neurtered - all is well.

We had our dear friends Shirley and David stay with us for 2 weeks - we had a wonderful time exploring the area with them and showing them around a little.  They are now settled into their winter rental in San Miguel de Allende Mexico.  SMA is a 5 hour bus ride from where we are - Shirley reported that the bus trip was uneventful with beautiful scenery. 

We had our General Assembly for our Homeowners Group here (called our Fracc) - I decided to run for a position on the board of directors - and I won!  There were three other candidates - I will enjoy this learning experience as the laws in Mexico are very different from back home.  Since we will now own two properties here in Chapala Haciendas it made good sense for one of us to be on the board.
I've also signed onto a committee here in Chapala Haciendas - I'm looking forward to that as well.

We're now having the exterior of our home painted and it's looking great!  Once this is finished we'll will have competed the work around here.  It's been a long haul - a year and a half of projects.  We will be glad to have the work complete. 

Greg's family arrives February 28th.  His Sis Julie, Bro Rob will be with us for 10 days.  Greg's Mom is also coming and she will stay on with us until the end of March.  Greg will fly home with her and will be able to handle our income taxes and financial stuff at the same time.  This will be Greg's first trip back home since we pulled out of the driveway last May!  I know he is looking forward to seeing our  Kids and Grandkids!!  Our daughter Michelle is expecting her second child in late May -  I hope to plan a trip home once the baby is born.  I miss our family - it's the thing I find the most difficult about living here in Mexico.  Really, it's the only thing I miss.  We really love the life we have carved out for ourselves here - many new friends, many events, lots to do all the time.  Our days are full with outings, friend get togethers and of course with 6 dogs - there is always something going on. 
Life is good !

The weather has been wonderful up until yesterday.  A cold front has moved in with heavy rains yesterday and again today.  Daytime highs are around 16 degrees and down to about 8 at night.  We bought a propane little heater for the house as it has been a little chilly here in the mornings.   It seems strange to look outside and not see the prestine clear blue sky and the glorious sunshine!  We have definately become accustomed to knowing that each day will be the same as the last.  No talk here much about weather - no weather network, no stormy days.  The rains that we are getting now are welcome as the gardens and mountains are dry .  We have not had rain since last October which is the norm here.  This morning as I post this, the birds are singing merrily. 

Hoping that you all are well and have a Happy Valentines Day!
Hugs
xoxox

So Many Abondoned Dogs .................food for thought..........

How Could You?

by Jim Willis

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent, and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter.

It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

THE END