The Family Grows

I awake startled. Phantom pain foggily registers. Quietly, I lay on my mattress trying to place the time. Judging the light protruding the scant window coverings, I peg it around 6:30.

I've always been a restless sleeper, tossing and turning through the night. There isn't much consistent in my sleep other then the difficulty in which it comes. This morning I lay on my stomach, my feet overhanging the foot of the bed.

Phantom pain is replaced by the real thing.

"Knock it off..."

There are a few questions where most people find themselves squarely in one camp or the other. For instance; Algebra or Geometry? Collegiate or Professional Athletics? Feline or Canine? You'll find me in camp with geometry, college athletics and dogs. I've always been a dog person.

"Ouch... Stop it!"

Close your eyes, and picture a puppy...

Puppies prior to  memories.

There are almost as many images conjured from that request as there are people who are asked. There are Bulldogs, Beagles, Terriers, and Spaniels of all shapes and sizes. In the neighborhood of 160 breeds in all, then there are endless varieties of lovable mutts.  I've known or lived with at least a dozen different breeds or mixes.  But throughout my life, if ever one asked me to close my eyes and picture a puppy, the only image that would come to my mind is that of a black lab. I grew up in a black lab family. My only neighbor for about a mile was a black lab family.  Pretty much anyone that came to visit (for hunting trips) was a black lab person.  Dad bred them and trained ours from before the start of my memories. Growing up I had two, that I was old enough to remember; Sailor and Sarge. (I say "I had two" only with the secure knowledge that Dad isn't around to correct me. Of course they weren't really mine, but they didn't know that.) Down the hill lived another lab, Rebel with my Aunt and Uncle. All good, smart, working dogs.

"Hey!! ... Someday..."

That's Hershey. Hershey is not a black lab. Hershey isn't even a dog, he's a cat... but he is black. I wouldn't say he's my cat. But, he doesn't know that. He's gotten into the habit of attacking my feet when they hang off the bed. Later in life he'll enjoy biting my face to show affection, but I don't know that yet. Right now all I know is there's a kitten attacking my big toe, and I'm affirming my residence in the dog camp.

Two years later. Coco, another black non-canine, enters our home. I'm still not sure why, but I think it has something to do with a friend for Hershey. Hershey isn't sold on the validity of that idea. To him we've just unleashed a mortal enemy into his domain. Through nine years their relationship flourishes into a begrudging acceptance of each others existence.

Hershey and Coco

My relationship with Hershey and Coco grew with the passage of time as well. They weren't too bad,  almost took care of themselves. You hardly even knew they were there, especially if you wanted some attention. I was only allergic to Coco, and Coco hardly ever got into my face, unless I was laying down to sleep, and only after Hershey had finished chewing on my chin. When I called, they would sometimes come, usually if I was getting them food. Once they even amused themselves with a toy thoughtfully purchased. It was only for five minutes, but there was a lot of passion in that short amount of time. Sure they were still a couple of cats, but they weren't too bad. I think they even begrudgingly accepted my existence.

We(I) always planned on getting a lab, someday. Someday when we got a house with a back yard. After getting our house, it was someday when we had the back yard fenced in. Then one day, Some Day knocked.

E.g. Cute

During one of my daily craigslist free section perusals; where I looked for firewood, lumber, anything useful. I stumbled across an ad proclaiming "Free Black Lab Puppies". On a whim I clicked on the link to look at the pictures. This was my first mistake. "Close your eyes, and picture a litter of puppies..."   Then, I emailed the link to Linda. My second mistake, because her heart melts at the sight of any baby animal, or bug oddly enough. Before long we were seriously discussing the possibility of getting a dog. After going back and forth all afternoon weighing the pros and cons we decided to take the plunge. Taylor needed a dog, that's it. The cat's just weren't pulling their weight in the pet department. We emailed Pat the lab lady and proclaimed our interest. Then we waited, and waited...

After a couple of days without hearing back, we solemnly decided that perhaps it just wasn't meant to be. I even started to convince myself that it was for the better... We were in no financial situation to add a dog to the "mouths to feed" list, our back yard wasn't fenced in, a dog would curb our jet-setting life style. Then, out of the blue, we hear back from Pat.

No sooner had I convinced myself of bullet-dodged, we were perspective puppy parents again. Linda was sure this was meant to be. After all, no one responds to a craigslist inquiry after a week has passed. We set a time to go see the litter. Seven black puppies from a yellow mother and a chocolate father. I am saddened to find out that the two males have been spoken for, but I try to not let my disappointment show.

Sarge surveying the backyard.

You see all my experience have been with male dogs. Well, all dogs except Jessie.  Jessie is a story in of herself, but for the sake of brevity I'll leave her out of the current discussion. Suffice to say she did nothing to advance the notion of straying outside my rather narrow canine comfort zone. But here I am, figuring to get a female dog... can't be too bad. Linda and Taylor are continually proving that not all women trail despair and destruction in their wake. Then, realizing there will be no need for an anatomy lesson with Taylor, I make a mental mark in the positive category. Having a female dog might actually make things a bit easier, and she's still a lab...

Fortunately there were multiple puppies left that seemed very promising. After careful interaction we selected one that was attentive, relatively calm, possessed a Westminster approved form, and big paws. The puppies were a couple of weeks from being weaned so we departed empty handed. There was a dog with our name on it, now she just needed a name.

The name... As silly as it sounds now, this was a tough issue for me.  My brain was unable to compute. No name felt right on my tongue. The mental image of a black lab mixed with a feminine name fried my neurons.

After perusing more naming lists than consulted for Taylor, I made note of a few names that caught my eye. Linda and I discussed the list and narrowed our choices to Bailey, Sadie, Luna, and Shilo. Bailey was most in my comfort zone since it was gender neutral, but also liked the "exotic-ness" of Shilo and Luna. The final decision however was not made by Linda or myself.

One night while getting Taylor ready for bed, I casually inquired her thoughts. Upon hearing, she immediately latched on to Luna.  The name was as if cast in stone. Taylor made a wise choice, for many reasons. She has been enamored with the moon for as long as either of us can remember.  Many times I've walked around our "yard" carrying Taylor to get an unobstructed view. Also, we now have the symmetry of two T's and and two L's. (sorry Hershey and Coco... someday you'll get your post.)  Luna now seems to fit a black lab pretty well, although it's ironic that it was the most feminine of the finalists.

Our name plate has meaning again.

Well, that's the origin of Luna.  It took much longer to write then I'd thought.  Emotionally it's about like introducing a child.  But then that's silly, unless you know what I mean.  I found it somewhat important to  attempt to convey how I felt about a pet such as Luna, if I am going to write about her in the future.  Speaking of which, there's already enough material to write a short book.  But since I've already done so just introducing her, and I don't want to put people through a novel here. I will save them for a later date. For those who might inquire about her health. Thanks to good vets and better family she is fully recovered and none the worse for wear. I may elaborate at a later date, but it's more news than story worthy. 


Taylor and Luna have become best friends, although she is sometimes overwhelmed by Luna's enthusiasm. They share a passion for sticks, rocks and getting dirty.  Luckily, Luna also has a passion for water, so she gets frequent hose baths.


Since this post is already considerably longer than I had envisioned, I'll attempt to finish it in a quicker, more visual format.

Protecting her bounty.

An attempt to make friends with Taylor.

Luna enjoys playing in the water while I wash the truck.

She loves her tire, we play fetch with it a lot.  (Which has eliminated the remainder of the backyard weeds)

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And now a little about Taylor over the last 2 months.

Someone needs a bath.

Taylor really likes dirt. Fortunately for her, there is no shortage around our house.  Usually she can get her fix by playing anywhere in our sparse back yard.  This particular day things were a little more focused.  While I was unloading a trailer and disassembling a play set (we found one in need of repair on craigslist whose owners just wanted it gone), Taylor started piling dirt on the trailer. When asked what she was doing, she responded "Making a birthday cake."  After she had made herself a nice little pile she turned her attention to some prime dirt. I had leaned part of the play set on the pump house, and Taylor discovered the remnants from my failed tomato growing adventure.  She started transporting dirt from the pot to the trailer, claiming it to be chocolate.  After the cake was satisfactorily formed, she told me she wanted candles.  With her help I fashioned some candles for her to blow out.

"Cheeeeeese!"

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Taylor's current treat of choice?  Spoonful of peanut butter.

I really like this picture because it shows off a bit of her personality.  I'm really anxious to play with some current video of her.  Maybe I can do some very light editing and at least get a clip together.

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Her shirt says it all.

Taylor turns 3.  This year she had her birthday party at a local park. Unfortunately we don't have many pictures of the occasion.  At least not many of quality. She did have a good time though and really enjoyed playing with her friends.  One of their parents was taking more pictures and video.  We are currently trying to acquire these.  Some may be posted at a later date?

Hello Kitty Cake

Taylor didn't like everyone singing for her.

Opening Presents

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Well that's about all I have to put up right now.  In all honesty, I have more I could put up.  But, if the line isn't drawn somewhere, the post would never get made, and it would take 2 hours to read it.  I do have one more small thing to share.  One Sunday afternoon, while Mommy was in making Taylor lunch, I brought the camera out to her play area.  There weren't many good pictures, but I did get some video that includes conversation.  I am going to try to piece something together from all the footage.   In the meantime, here is a little snippet that happened when I set the camera down to give her a push.  It provides some footage rare enough to feel at home on Roger Patterson's camera.

Until next time.
-TA