Saturday, May 9, 2009

Happy Mother's Day!

My mother taught me to love reading. She has been my biggest fan, even though at this point in her life, she has left behind the Lindsey's and Bertrice Small's she used to read for more spiritual fare, and wants me to move in the same direction. Which might be in my future if romance continues in the line it's been going. Another blog...

Mama was very young when I was born. That's the way things were in rural North Carolina in the mid-50's. Girls got married and started their families. Their young husbands worked hard in factories or on farms. All in all, it was a good life, but times changed. My mother, who only got her GED in her 50's, never questioned my drive to get a college education. She never questioned that I was capable of doing anything that I wanted to. Even when my dream was med school, I never heard "You can't do that." More importantly, when that dream gave way to others, she never criticized me for giving up.

My mother is not an educated woman, but she's probably one of the smartest people I know. There is nothing she could not have done with her life, so I'm even more grateful that she devoted that life to me and my sister and our father.

I sent her flowers for Mother's Day, but that's a teeny thing to do as thanks for such a gift as she has given me.

Thank you, Mama. I love you!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

How Ozzy Saved my Sanity

No, not that Ozzy. This Ozzy is my baby, my 5-year-old Lhasa Apso. Honestly, he's the best dog I've ever had and that's saying something. He has even won over my husband--an otherwise perfect man--who didn't want a dog and is fervently looking forward to the day when there are no non-humans living in our house. "My goal is zero," he says. But, what husband/father/significant other has not wished that at one time or another after the promises of "we'll take care of the dog/cat/ferret (especially the ferret-but that's another blog)" have been forgotten? I have to say, in my defense, I do most of the Ozzy-care. And my husband was the one who let Ozzy start sleeping on our bed. I had him all trained to sleep in his crate. But I digress.

How did Ozzy save my sanity? I had a bout a few years ago with depression. Not enough to be debilitating, but I just didn't find much joy in anything. Except Ozzy. When I would get down, all I'd have to do was look at him. He's got the most wonderful eyes, deep brown and human-looking. A little spurt of happiness would well up in my heart and sometimes I would be brought to tears of joy and gratitude that God had brought him into my life. Lhasas' tails curl really tight and left to themselves, flower in a silky fur. When Ozzy chases a toy, his favorite game, his tail is like a pennant flying out behind him. He bounces as he runs, and when he gets to his toy too quickly, his front feet stop him, while his back legs bounce up off the ground. Yeah, he's cute.

He sticks with me, laying on his little cushion in my office while I work. He'll come over and sit at my feet, looking up at me with those wonderful eyes, patiently waiting for a scratch. He is a little demanding for his treats, and he's learned how to open the pantry door. "Come on, girl, come on. Get me a treat. That's a girl."

Pets are probably the nicest thing God ever did for us...second to saving us, that is. Thank you, Lord, for Ozzy.