Sunday, May 20, 2018

#NationalRescueDogDay

We were completely unaware that today is #NationalRescueDogDay until we read it on the internets. Around our house, every day is rescue dog day. The Better Half has hers; we have ours; and the Daughter Person brought one of her own back from an internship (hers, not the dog's) in North Carolina several years ago.

There may be something special about May because, according to our photo archives, the Better Half was rescued by Franco in mid-May seven years ago.

Franco arrives at his "forever" home
Franco arrives at his "forever" home
Photo by J. Harrington

We were rescued by SiSi just before the beginning of May five years ago

SiSi observing the human she rescued
SiSi observing the human she rescued
Photo by J. Harrington

The Daughter Person was rescued by her whippet/beagle(?) cross later in the Summer, so the May rescue rule doesn't seem hard and fast. We've no pictures of her rescuer to post.

Here's a link to how you can help even if you aren't ready to be rescued by a dog yourself. If, like us, you really are a dog person, we highly recommend trying to find a copy of one of Gene Hill's books go "dog stories" (Tears and LaughterSunlight and Shadows and A Listening Walk... and Other Stories). If you need a little motivation, here's a sampling of his quotes about dogs.

Mary Oliver also understands about the special relationship between people and dogs. Here's an example from her book of Dog Songs.

LUKE


I had a dog
  who loved flowers.
    Briskly she went
        through the fields, 
yet paused
  for the honeysuckle
    or the rose,
        her dark head 
and her wet nose
  touching
    the face
         of every one 
with its petals
  of silk,
    with its fragrance
         rising 
into the air
  where the bees,
    their bodies
        heavy with pollen, 
hovered—
  and easily
     she adored
        every blossom, 
not in the serious,
  careful way
    that we choose
        this blossom or that blossom— 
the way we praise or don’t praise—
  the way we love
     or don’t love—
        but the way 
we long to be—
  that happy
    in the heaven of earth—
        that wild, that loving.


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